The Sweet Science
Knoxville TN Summer 2009
Go to your refrigerator, grab two 12 oz beers. Now hold them in your hands, outstretched shoulder level. That’s right out in front of you, shoulder level, two 12 oz beers, how hard can that be. Now do it for three minutes, just three minutes. Have one of your kids put on one of your favorite pop songs they are usually just under three minutes. One minute into this you ached, two minutes your sweating it takes all you got and you can’t go three minutes. NOW do this for 16 rounds, with an opponent that wants to kill you. You have entered the ring of The Sweet Science, boxing.
Preservation Pub (again)
Trivia night at the Pub starts at 11:00 pm on a Sunday, to say the least there is a selective crowd. That night it was physicist from around the world in town for a symposium and late night trivia. Along with some of the smartest people in the world were Juli my good friend, Angel (pronounce Ang Al) and I. We had no idea who Angel was but he became part of the Candy Kids Trivia Team at the Pub that night.
Angel all 5’ 10”, tattooed covered body and face but as I have learn in previous encounters with individuals perception is deception. So he was welcomed onto our team, ready to do battle with some of the smartest people in the world. Good thing as between the three of us we knew just enough of each category to get second place. We lost out to the team from Sanford by 1 point. Seems that common sense and streets smarts can hold it own against the quark theory. A proud moment in all of our lives.
Between questions Angel and I talked, at first my relationship with Juli. “Platonic friends.” I reassured him as did Juli who I saw had a twinkle in her eye every time she talked to Angel. I asked him what he was doing at the Pub at midnight on a Sunday, which was now a Monday, playing trivia.
“Restin for a fight next week at the civic center” he said with a smirk
“A fight. Boxer?”
“Yea, boxing middle weight, fighting for the money they give me”
“How long have you been in the ring?”
“Sixteen rounds” Angel smiles, “Naw six years at it, hard. Not sure how long more, medical problems, don’t know how much more I can take.”
“What’s training like, I heard it is grueling.”
“Hay it can be, sparring, fighting with some street punk don’t know nothin, throw n punches every where, Not hard to out think, out box, good though make you the predator, you knows the one who eats.”
“Yea, the sweet science, a game of lies, go for the head, hit the body, drop your arms act like your going for the body hit the head.”
“Hombre you ax like you know, you a BOXER.”
Angel looked surprise that I would know a little about the sport. His speech emphasize BOXER almost mocking but I knew by his expression it was curiosity as to why a tall skinny white guy would even know about the sweet science.
“No way, I am a tall skinny white guy, not into getting my ass kicked every time I go into a gym. Admire the sport and the participants, the strength, the cunning and intelligence to be a good boxer. Let alone the training, I lived in Atlanta when Evander Holidfeild was going for the title. Heard what he trained like, all day every day sparring, punching bag, sit-ups till you puke, running, running, running. Not a boxer just one who enjoys, no admires the sport. What got you started?”
“I was street fight n for free, boxing at the boys club a little, golden gloves then the old dude told me to show up at the gym and teach me the way. You know how to be a pretty boxer. Float, weave like Ali.”
“Where did you start at?”
“Miami, west side, train down there, fought all over state of Florida, the old man say I need to get some other experience, fight out of state, so I try Knoxville.”
“What are you thinking about when you are in the ring?”
“My opponent, get the best of him, thinking how can I get round him, land a punch. Gut, head, do I dance, do I hit. I also think what he is think n how to get me, play the lying game wid him.”
“How many bouts have you been in?”
“38 n 8, now”
“Not bad, how many pro bouts with the big money”
“Big money, ha lucky I get to eat for what day pay me.
Purse fights about 15 won them all, promoters try to screw me out of the money, tell me they get me a title bout, just scam n me. The old man say I’m not ready, be patient so I fight here.”
Then the announcer came over the PA with the last question of round 1.
“What is the only day of the year that there is NO professional sports being played” the trivia announcer asked.
“I know this” I said
“Christmas?” Angel said “Nope day after the Baseball’s All Star Game.” I whisper as Juli wrote down our answer and scurried it to the master of ceremonies. We were now just three points away from first.
“How old when you first enter the ring” I asked as Juli came back with a thumbs up.
“Sixteen, in high school, golden gloves program at the Boys Club, the old man saw me box ax me to come to the gym ben wid him ever since. Old man a good dude, cool old white dude, takes care of me. Don’t let the promoters get to much just there UN fair share.”
Angel was covered in tats, face, neck, arms and hands each one a story. The largest one Marcia, was for his daughter in Miami. Fourteen living with Angel’s mom, doing good in school even looking at college, the first in his family. We talked some more about the sweet science, how promoters try to screw every boxer they can. How trainers try to keep the bad away from the good but the boxer gets swayed with money and fame. Like the old saying goes you meet the same people on the way up as you do on the way down. A beautiful sport a nasty business.
The best description of the sport comes from Rope Burns by F X Toole, who also wrote the short story Million Dollar Baby.
Excerpt from Rope Burns by F X Toole But there is so much to learn in the sweet science, so from the beginning Mac taught the kid to think in the ring, to fight pretty. The pretty fighter was the man, and fighting pretty meant you were slick in the way your moved, the way you threw punches and the way your slipped punches; that you had defense as well as offense; and that you outsmarted your opponent; that you moved while you punched, so that you kept your opponent off balance and missing and without thump in his punches. So the first thing Mac taught Puddin was that balance meant leverage; that leverage meant speed; that it was speed that meant power, because balance and leverage were behind the speed, not muscle.
NOTE: Big John Tate came from the cotton fields of Arkansas to Knoxville TN in 1975 wanting one thing “to fight”. His career spans the highs and lows that are boxing. In the 1976 Montreal Olympics he won the Bronze Medal after going down to the Cuban boxer Teófilo Stevenson. Then Big John Tate went on to win the Heavyweight title vacated by Muhammad Ali in 1977 beating the South African Gerrie Coetzee. This was the pinnacle of his career, a short lived life of fame. In a match against John Weaver to defend his title he lasted up t the 15th round, comfortably ahead in points Big John Tate was assure a victory till the last minute of the 15th round when Weaver landed a punch that knock Tate to the canvas.
His career over, no re-match, no defending the title against Ali, one punch in the final minutes of a match change it all for Tate. He had kept his title for a short 5 months. Then what followed were a series of defeats, matches against lesser knows and cocaine addiction. This all cumulated to lead Big John Tate on a downward path. Even though he boxed until 1996 he never regain the respect he once had. His cocaine habit took him to even further lows, living on the streets of Knoxville, a life of assaults and petty theft that resulted in jail time on numerous occasions. Then tragically in April of 1998 in a fatal single car accident Big John Tate was gone. The Knoxville coroner reported that John Tate had been using cocaine regularly for the past 24 hours before his accident. In the end the ring made him and the ring destroyed him.
