June 16, 1982 -Loaded Gloves and Empty Pockets: How the Resto-Collins Scandal.....

Loaded Gloves and Empty Pockets: How the Resto-Collins Scandal Mirrors Today’s Heavyweight Robbery of the Working Class- From the smoke filled den of your favourite ghost, druncle Bert.

You want anger? You want righteous, volcanic, spit-flying outrage? Pull up a chair, because if the Luis Resto–Billy Collins Jr. debacle made you sick to your stomach, just take a look around at the world outside the ring today. The same poison that ruined Billy Collins—that lethal mix of greed, corruption, and utter disregard for the powerless—has metastasized from the boxing underbelly to the very heart of our global economy. The same scumbags who loaded Resto’s gloves are loading the dice on Wall Street, in government, and anywhere they can squeeze another dollar out of the working man’s misery.

Let’s rewind to that infamous night in 1983, when Panama Lewis and his puppet Resto turned a prizefight into a crime scene. They didn’t just cheat; they committed an act so vile, so calculated, it should’ve landed them in a cell for life. They stripped the padding from Resto’s gloves, wrapped his hands like he was smuggling bricks, and sent him out to destroy a kid who just wanted a fair shake. Billy Collins Jr. stepped into that ring with dreams and left with his life in ruins, all because two bottom-feeders decided their payday was worth more than a human being’s future.

Now, fast-forward to today. You think the game’s changed? Think again. The same kind of fix is in, only now it’s not just one fighter getting set up—it’s millions. The economic disparity that’s choking the life out of the middle and working classes is nothing less than a high-stakes, white-collar mugging. The gloves are off, the padding’s gone, and the people in charge are swinging for the fences with brass knuckles.

Let’s talk about corruption and inequality, because they’re joined at the hip like Lewis and Resto, feeding off each other in a sick, endless clinch. Studies have shown that income inequality doesn’t just allow corruption—it breeds it, fertilizes it, and lets it grow like mold in a damp basement. The rich aren’t just motivated to cheat the system—they’re given the keys to the vault. They bribe, they scheme, they write the rules to suit themselves, while the poor are left to pay the price. Sound familiar? It should. It’s the same damn thing that happened to Billy Collins, writ large.

Think I’m exaggerating? Look at the scandals that have rocked the world in the last few decades. Politicians, oligarchs, and corporate kingpins caught with their hands so deep in the cookie jar, they’re practically wearing the jar as a glove. In Chechnya, workers are forced to pay bribes just to keep their jobs, losing half their income to a slush fund controlled by a dictator who spends more on birthday parties and boxing exhibitions than on his own people. In Tunisia, the ruling family monopolized entire industries, shutting out competition and raking in billions while the average citizen struggled to put food on the table. In oil-rich Equatorial Guinea, the Obiang family has stolen billions, leaving three-quarters of the population in poverty while their playboy son collects supercars like baseball cards. And don’t even get me started on the Paradise Papers and the global tax havens that let the world’s wealthiest dodge their obligations while the rest of us get stuck with the bill.

This isn’t just corruption—it’s systemic, institutionalized theft. It’s the same mentality that let Panama Lewis walk into a locker room, strip the padding from a pair of gloves, and send a young man to his doom. The only difference is the scale. Back then, it was one ruined fighter. Now, it’s entire generations being robbed of opportunity, security, and hope.

And what happens when you try to fight back? When you point out the loaded gloves, the rigged game, the fact that the deck is stacked against you from the start? You’re told to shut up, to stop whining, to accept your lot in life. The commissions, the regulators, the so-called watchdogs—they’re either asleep at the wheel or in on the fix. The same way nobody in the Garden that night had the guts to stop the fight, nobody in power today has the guts to stand up to the real criminals bleeding society dry.

Don’t believe me? Look at the numbers. Countries lose around $500 billion a year to corporate tax dodging alone—enough to fund the UN’s entire aid budget twenty times over. That’s money that could lift millions out of poverty, build schools, fix roads, provide healthcare. Instead, it lines the pockets of people who already have more than they could spend in a hundred lifetimes. And every time a new scandal breaks, we get the same song and dance: a few resignations, some crocodile tears, a promise of reform. Then it’s back to business as usual.

The worst part? Just like Billy Collins, the victims are left to pick up the pieces. The working class, the poor, the vulnerable—they’re the ones who take the punches, round after round, while the fat cats in the luxury boxes sip their champagne and count their winnings. And when the damage is done, when the dreams are shattered and the lives are ruined, the perpetrators walk away with a slap on the wrist, if that.

So what’s the answer? Do we just throw up our hands and accept that the game is rigged, that the gloves will always be loaded, that the fix will always be in? Hell no. If there’s one thing boxing teaches us, it’s that you never quit. You keep swinging, you keep fighting, you keep calling out the cheats and the crooks until somebody listens.

We need real accountability. We need watchdogs with teeth, commissions that actually protect the fighters—the workers, the citizens, the people who make this world run. We need to shine a light on the backroom deals, the offshore accounts, the sweetheart contracts that let the rich get richer while the rest of us get the shaft. We need to remember Billy Collins Jr., not just as a cautionary tale, but as a rallying cry—a reminder that when the rules are broken, when the gloves are loaded, when the powerful prey on the powerless, it’s not just a tragedy. It’s a crime.

So the next time you hear about a new corruption scandal, a new case of economic injustice, don’t shrug your shoulders. Get angry. Get loud. Demand better. Because if we let the Panamas and Restos of the world keep swinging, unchecked and unpunished, we’re all just one punch away from ending up like Billy Collins—beaten, broken, and forgotten.

And that, my friends, is something no true fan—of boxing, of justice, of humanity—should ever accept.