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I guess you could say that early on my main sport was street fighting, which just was like another game, especially if you were good at it. It was justsomething I did, not something I am terrifically proud of. When we werekids we used to go to a place and say, "Ah, there's no girls here, nobody tobeat up, let's get out of here." You know, so it was kind of stupid, but that'sthe way it was.
When you're a kid in Brooklyn and you're little, like I was -- only about89 pounds and 4'11" in tenth grade -- you have to stand up for yourself.Plus, I had a big mouth, so guys used to love to throw me over the table,just because they could. Nobody got killed, nobody got hurt too badly.It was a time when kids fought with their hands and not with guns, andso a lot of times you ended up being best friends with the guy you endedup fighting with. It had to do with some kind of respect borne out ofthe fight.
"I Thought I'd Gotten Drafted"
When I got older, I owned a little piece of a bar in Long Island, and a bunch of my friends all hung out there. One day they got the bright idea toenter me into the Golden Globes. They just filled out an entry blank in theDaily News and a short time later I got a notice to appear for my physical. Fora second, I thought I'd gotten drafted!
I went to the bar that night, where all my friends were all laughing aboutit, and I said, "Okay, I'll do it." So I entered the Globes in the sub-noviceclass at 175 pounds, light-heavyweight, which was a lot bigger than I was atthe time. I should have been fighting at 160.
"I Knew There Was Something Wrong Because
You're Not That Good A Loser"
I used to train like this: I'd sit at the bar and I'd go, "Aw, I got time forone more," and then I'd go fight.
I had a great first year. I knocked out the first six guys I fought. Theywere writing me up in the paper as the "Battling Bartender." "I serve mittensinstead of Manhattans" -- stuff like that. I could punch a little bit, so I didokay. But then, I ran into a kid who really knew what he was doing and hebeat the hell out of me at the Downtown Athletic Club. I got knocked downand I remember, as I was going down, hearing my mother scream in this kindof vortex. It was the last fight my mother ever went to. The next thing Iknow, I wake up in the shower. I open up the shower curtain and I see thecoach, Sarge, who was this old sergeant from the Police Athletic League. Isaid, "Hey, Sarge, what happened?"
"Well," he said, "we're going home a little early tonight." Then he said,"You went down, but you weren't knocked out. It was interesting, becauseyou got up and you congratulated the other fighter, you thanked the referee,you congratulated the other corner. I knew there was something wrong, because I know you're not that good a loser!"
I was in Never-Never Land. I didn't know who I was. But even though Igot beat up, I was hooked. I really loved it. It was that moment when you'reyoung when you think, "I found what I can do! What I'm really good at."That's what it felt like to me.
I went back the next year in the open class, and this time I trained. Igot down to 160. I figured, if I can knock out light-heavyweights, I'llkill middle-weights. I fought the champ in the first round. He hit mewith three thousand jabs. I had him down twice, but I lost the fight.Then I turned pro. Five bucks and you got your boxer's license. I went toGleason's gym, on 28th Street in Manhattan. It was the Mecca of boxing inNew York at the time. There was an older guy sitting at a counter as youwalked in the door, his name was Sammy Morgan, and he had this big, bulbous nose -- obviously he had been a fighter -- and he said, "What do youwant?"
I said, "I want to be a fighter."
He said, "What?"
I'm looking around -- there was all this noise -- and just as I said again, "Iwant to be a fighter," the bell rang, and it was quiet!
He said, "Chicky!" -- that was Chicky Ferrar, the great trainer -- Thisguy wants to be a fighter!"
Chicky says, "He wants to be a fighter? Come on over! Has he gotequipment?"
I got dressed and Chicky said, "Show me what you got." I got in the ring,and he put a little Vaseline on me and stuck my mouthpiece in. I turnedaround, and there was the number sixth-ranked middle-weight in the world,Eddie Gregory, sitting across, standing across the ring -- later, he changed hisname to Eddie Mustafa Mohammed and became World Champ. He beat thehell out of me. I lost my temper, which was one of my problems when I firststarted to fight. So I tried to hit him back and then he really beat me up. ButI came back the next day, because I was hooked.
The Games Do Count
Excerpted from The Games Do Count: America's Best and Brightest on the Power of Sports by Brian Kilmeade
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
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