Articles of 2009

Farewell To HBO's Boxing Ambassador, Artie Curry

Published

16 years ago

May 14, 2009

NEW YORK — As several hundred boxing and television types filed out of his memorial service at Madison Square Garden’s WaMu Theatre Wednesday afternoon it occurred to me that Artie Curry’s worst fears had been realized. For us it had been a poignant and often uplifting celebration of his life, a tribute to a departed friend, but Artie, well, he might not have hated it, but he would have squirmed uncomfortably through almost every minute of it.

Once I recovered from the shocking news of his death five weeks earlier, I’d inquired about arrangements. There were none, I was told. Artie had left express wishes that he be cremated without fuss, privately and quietly interred without a formal funeral service.

I wondered then whether he had had some vague premonition of his impending demise, because men in their forties don’t commonly devote much thought to these matters. As it turned out, his death had been preceded less than two months earlier by that of a beloved sister, who’d succumbed to cancer. Her burial struck Artie has such a gut-wrenching, grief-stricken experience that he determined that he didn’t want to be the focal point of a similar exercise. He’d told Lise Curry that, and, lest his mother be tempted to override his wishes, he’d told several friends as well: No body, no funeral, no tears.

Of course he could have anticipated that with HBO showing Paul Williams-Winky Wright in Vegas just a few nights later there would be the inevitable 10-count before the main event. And as they attempted to convey their sense of loss even while attempting to explain just who Arthur Curry was and what he did to a television audience that had probably never heard of him, first Michael Buffer, then Jim Lampley, and finally Larry Merchant each flubbed his lines, bursting into tears on-camera.

The concept behind Wednesday’s gathering was that it wouldn’t violate Artie’s proscription. The well-intentioned idea was that his friends, his family and his HBO family would come together at the Mecca of Boxing to exchange some light-hearted reflections, share a few memories by telling stories in which Artie would often be the butt of the joke – in his self-deprecating humor he was used to that – and everyone would go home happier for the experience.

They even managed to retrieve footage of the high point of his non-HBO television career – his appearance as a contestant on “The Price is Right.”

When Bob Barker looked to Row 18, fourth seat from the right, and said “Arthur Curry, come on down!” recalled his old friend and HBO mentor Carl Veibranz, “Artie sprang up like a jack-in-the box and bounded down the stairs like a boxer entering the ring.” In his subsequent conversation with the host he was in the process of bonding with a spellbound Barker when there came a voice-over:

“We interrupt this program to take you to the White House…”

And for the next 25 minutes Ronald Reagan addressed the nation over the troublesome issues in Afghanistan (back then, we were defending the rights of our friends, the Taliban) and that was the end of Artie’s career as a game-show contestant.

But despite such moments of levity, and the fact that a decent interval had elapsed, close to a dozen speakers shared their memories of Artie at Wednesday’s gathering, and almost without exception they were unable to get through their remarks without succumbing to tears. Whether it was HBO Sports president Ross Greenburg or Time Warner CEO Jeff Bewkes or Lou DiBella, whose tenure as an HBO executive paralleled Artie’s eventual role with the network, or Kery Davis, the VP to whom Artie allegedly reported (though as Davis made clear, the opposite sometimes seemed to be the case) or Roy Jones Jr., not a man normally given to sentimental reflection, at some point they all found themselves crying, and when they cried, the rest of us did too, and somewhere Artie was saying “Damn! I told you this was a bad idea!”

It wasn’t a bad idea at all, and we all left the better for it. But it clearly wasn’t what Artie would have wanted, because in his mind it was never about himself. But they all turned out for him Wednesday – boxers great and small, past and present, promoters, sportswriters, judges, officials, trainers, sanctioning body officials. There were even a couple of what looked suspiciously like round-card girls.

In just over an hour it took for a dozen people to fill in the gaps of a life story, interspersed with some uplifting, but inevitably emotionally overwhelming live musical performances from Tracy Adams, Fabian Spady, and Chaz Perry, it became clear that while both Artie’s life and career over the past three decades had been the product of a series of happy accidents, in each instance it had been he and he alone who had seized the moment and made the most of every opportunity to arrive at the indispensable position he held at the time of his untimely end.

Essentially an abandoned child from Brownsville who barely knew his natural parents, he grew up in a series of foster homes, and at 17 was about to be discharged from the system. Lise Curry and her husband, a sometime jazz singer, were looking to adopt a small child, but a social worker passed along word about Artie Sheppherd, whom he described as “a diamond in the rough.”

When DiBella phoned Lise Curry a day or two after Artie’s death he’d never met her.

“You’re going to be surprised,” she told him. “I’m a little white lady.”

“Yes,” said DiBella, “but I also understand that you’re a strong black woman.”

Artie finished high school as a member of the Curry family, and eventually took their name. A few phone calls through friends of friends resulted in a pro-forma “job interview” and a place in the mail room at the Time-Life building, whose rounds included the offices of subsidiary HBO.

“He never took anything for granted, not even the smallest kindness,” recalled Mary-Ellen Simonnin, who arranged his job interview back then. “He’d thank me and tell me how thrilled he was to be working at such a great job, and I’d be thinking ‘Great job? As a mail room boy?”

And, if you went strictly by the job description, he wasn’t even very good at that. “It quickly became apparent that getting the mail delivered on time was not among Artie’s priorities,” recalled Viebranz. But as he made his rounds and stopped to chat in each office, brightened the day of each and every occupant with his infectious conversation, and along the way he was absorbing everything he came in contact with along the way, and learned the way this intricate company operated by mentally connecting its individual components.

Always a sports fan (and, as footage showed at his service attested, the owner of a deadly jump-shot from three-point range well into his forties), Artie had naturally gravitated to the HBO side of the Time empire, and after seven years in the mailroom was offered the chance to join HBO sports as a production assistant. On the surface this could have been a job holding even less promise for the future than the mailroom, but he plunged into it with such enthusiasm that it eventually became clear that his people skills might make him useful in an even more important role, that of a go-between coordinating relations between the network, its sometimes contentious roster of boxers, and the public that represented the constituency of both.

The role has been described as “ambassador,” but it was more and less. Officially at the time of his death Artie’s title was “Manager of HBO Sports Talent Relations.” He had his own expansive office, and, he told Vierbranz in a recent visit, “you wouldn’t believe how much money I’m making now.” (He was right about that part. Viebranz, who had been an HBO VP when he was ushered out the door a decade ago, couldn’t.)

The job was a two-way street, of course. Artie managed to maintain the trust and loyalty of both his employers and the boxers because he never favored one over the other and never tried to bullshit either one of them. His friendship with Jones appears to have been one of the more enduring, and while Roy deliberately avoided citing past examples, one can almost imagine a conversation between the two, whether on the grounds of the farm in Pensacola or in a Vegas hotel suite.

“An HBO jacket for your cousin? What size does he wear, my brother?”

“Smoke on another HBO undercard? I can pass it along and see what they say.”

“You headlining as a rapper at Radio City Music Hall? Get real, my brother. No chance.”

“But how about you fighting at Radio City Music Hall? Now, there’s a chance to make history.”

“Artie,” said Bewkes, “would come up with all these ideas that shouldn’t have worked, but you’d be surprised how often they did.”

Kery Davis recalled a meeting when Artie reported for his annual job review. The network, of course, hadn’t a single complaint, but Artie did: “I don’t think I’ve been giving enough back,” he told Davis, and proposed a program that would send HBO boxers out into the community to speak at schools and social agencies. Somehow the concept had never occurred to his superiors, but as Artie outlined it to Davis that day, Kery found himself thinking, “He’s absolutely right.”

He truly carved out his own job description, one that made him so irreplaceable that the notion of a single successor has not even been contemplated. As Merchant noted on the broadcast the weekend Artie died, he was not only the bridge between the fighters and the HBO suits, but between them and the guys in the tuxes at ringside, too.

“His job was so unique and he was so good at it that he actually had better access to the seats of power at HBO than the guys in the boardroom did,” said DiBella. “Artie was HBO royalty.”

And he rubbed shoulders with boxing royalty as well.

“I can’t begin to tell you the basis for our relationship, because it doesn’t even make sense to me,” said Jones. “He’s from the North, I’m from the South. He’s from the big city, I’m from the country. It’s not like we had a lot in common, but we hit it off right away and stayed that way for years.

When he spoke to Artie just before his death, Jones recalled, he had mentioned that he wasn’t feeling well but said he had medication had things under control. RJ had been worried enough to offer to fly to New York. Given his well-documented history of Big Apple Xenophobia, this was, Artie had to know, a reflection of the utmost concern, but he discouraged the visit. Within a day he was dead of a heart ailment.

“Sometimes an angel just appears in your life,” said Jones, “but don’t ever take anything for granted, because in a spark that angel might just fly off without warning.”

Even as he choked back his own tears, Jones expressed his confidence that, “Wherever Artie is right now, he’s happy and he’s smiling.”

One can only hope so. Peace, my brother.

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George Kimball

Articles of 2009

UFC 108 Rashad Evans vs. Thiago Silva

Published

15 years ago

December 31, 2009

David A. Avila

Former champion Rashad Evans meets Brazil’s venerable Thiago Silva in a non-title belt that can lead to a return match with the current champ, but first things first.

Evans (15-1-1) and Silva (14-1) meet in Ultimate Fighting Championship 108 in a light heavyweight bout on Saturday Jan. 2, at the MGM Grand Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. A win by either fighter could result in a world title bid. The fight card is being shown on pay-per-view television.

Events can change quickly in the Octagon and anybody can beat anybody in the 205-pound weight division. Just ask Silva or Evans.

Silva and Evans are both experienced and can vouch firsthand about the capriciousness of fighting in MMA and especially as a light heavyweight. On one day this man can beat that man and on another day, that man can beat this man. It can make you absolutely daffy.

Evans, 30, is the former UFC light heavyweight world champion who only defended his title on one occasion and lost by vicious knockout to current champion Lyoto Machida of Brazil. It’s the only defeat on his record.

Silva, 27, is a well-rounded MMA fighter from Sao Paolo, Brazil who is versed in jujitsu, Muy Thai and boxing. He can end a fight quickly in a choke hold just as easily as with a kick or a punch. His only loss came to who else: Machida.

Evans and Silva know a win can push open the door to a rematch with current UFC light heavyweight champion Machida.

“A win against Rashad would put me in the track against Lyoto,” said Silva, in a telephone conference call. “That's what – what I want to do.”

When Silva fought Machida the two Brazilians were both undefeated and feared in the MMA world. The fight took place in Las Vegas and with one second remaining in the first round a perfectly timed punch knocked Silva unconscious.

“I was humbled big time, man,” says Silva who fought Machida in January 2009. “I learned a lot from that fight. I think I can correct the mistakes from that fight, not overlooking anything else right now, but just I want to get the chance to fight him again.”

For Evans it was a different circumstance. The upstate New Yorker held the UFC title and was defending it after stopping then champion Forrest Griffin by knockout. Still, many felt Machida was far too technically versed. Evans was stopped brutally in the second round.

“I've made it a point to not – to not get distracted on what I want to do, because you know Thiago (Silva) is a very hungry fighter,” said Evans who has not fought since losing the title to Machida last May. “My focus is just on Thiago so much. You know I don't want to overlook him, you know, not even a little bit.”

Dana White, president of UFC, says the winner of this fight could conceivably fight Machida in the near future. Evans and especially Silva are motivated by the open window.

“I learned a lot from that fight. I think I can correct the mistakes from that fight,” says Silva. “Not overlooking anything else right now, but I just want to get the chance to fight him again.”

What a prize. The winner gets to face the man who beat him: Machida.

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Articles of 2009

Ten Boxing Wishes For 2010

Published

15 years ago

December 30, 2009

Ralph Gonzalez

As 2009 comes to a close, one reflects on what went well and what went wrong during the year in boxing. There were many highlights. Pacquiao vs. Cotto and Showtime’s Super Six tournament were part of the best that boxing had to offer. But there were some low points too therefore the industry has some work to do in order to keep generating fans. Here are some suggestions for 2010:

10. Better pay per view cards

Paying 40 to 50 bucks to watch the main event gets old real quick. Why do we have to sit through a horrible under-card to get to the main course? It’s like being fed spam appetizers before the Thanksgiving turkey. It seems that the pay per view promoters just don’t get it. Are they watching what they put on or do they only watch the “big fight” as everyone else is slowly being conditioned to do so?

9. Time to make Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. fight

Okay, I understand he’s the son of one of the greatest fighters that ever lived. But he’s had 42 fights against low to mid level competition and has never managed to look spectacular. It’s time to throw the 23 year old out of the nest to see if he can fly. My suggestion is a fight against Sergio Mora or maybe even Yuri Foreman. Neither of these guys can punch. They may outbox Junior but they won’t totally humiliate him.

8. No more ridiculous Pay Per View mismatches

Floyd Mayweather Jr. vs. Juan Manuel Marquez should’ve never been made. It was a ridiculous fight when it was announced and it was more ridiculous when it took place. Unable to bring Manny Pacquiao to the bargaining table for a third match against Juan Manuel Marquez, someone figured that pairing up the 135 pound champion against a natural 147 pounder like Mayweather would be a great idea. The pay per view generated over a million buys but the fact that millions of people were treated to an incredibly boring mismatch is what’s truly worrisome. I can guarantee you one thing about this card. The sport of boxing lost fans once the show was over and done with. Talk about short term thinking.

7. Chris “The Nightmare” Arreola shows up for a fight in amazing shape

It was painful to see Chris Arreola take a beating from the Ukrainian giant, Vitali Klitscho. The champion certainly earned his “Dr. Ironfist” moniker as he plowed his powerful shots into the former #1 WBC heavyweight contender’s face. He reddened and bloodied the young Mexican American with an assortment of weapons and foot movement seldom seen on a six foot seven inch heavyweight. Arreola was brave and unrelenting in battle. He never stopped coming forward and took chances when he could. His work in the ring at the Staples Center in downtown Los Angeles wasn’t the problem. Where Arreola let himself down was outside the ring. His unwillingness to condition himself into a finely tuned athlete cost him certain immortality as the first ever heavyweight champion of Mexican descent. Arreola has the heart and skills but it was his mental fortitude that broke down. Anyone who’s followed the Riverside fighter knows that his best weight is somewhere in the 230 pound range. It certainly isn’t at the 252 pounds he registered on the scale at the Staples Center. Those fifteen to twenty extra pounds might have made all the difference in the world. Maybe he would’ve been a little quicker, maybe he could’ve sustained a faster pace in order to tire out the champion. In his most recent fight against Brian Minto, Arreola weighed in at a career high 263. It looks like “The Nightmare” isn’t willing to change for anyone. At this pace, the only nightmares he’ll be providing will be to the management of Hometown Buffets all across Riverside. Just kidding “Nightmare”!

6. More respect for the lighter weights

Real boxing fans know that the most exciting fighters in the sport are usually found toiling in weight divisions south of 154 pounds. Pacquiao, Cotto, Juan Manuel Marquez, Edwin Valero, Israel Vazquez, Juan Ma Lopez, Vic Darchinyan, Rafael Marquez and countless others have been the real driving force behind this sport. It’s those great fighters that have made boxing fanatics out of casual fans. The heavyweights may get all the money and glory but it’s the little guys who make the sport shine and it’s time they received greater compensation. It’s dismaying to think that a mediocre heavyweight can make three or four times as much as the great Rafael Marquez.

5. An American Heavyweight champion

Speaking of heavyweights, two Americans tried and failed at dethroning Vitali Klitschko this year. Both Kevin Johnson and Chris Arreola did their best to wrestle the belt away from “Dr. Klitschko” but came up short since they were easily outclassed. What happened to the great American Heavyweight? Where’s our new Joe Frazier or Ali? Even a new Gerry Cooney or a Ken Norton would do at this point. I’ve got a feeling that the only way we’re going to see an American champion is if Klitschko retires. My money is on Arreola. Although undisciplined and rough outside the ring, he’s got tons (no pun intended) of natural talent. He’s without a doubt the most talented American heavyweight on the scene.

4. More ShoBox

The Showtime Cable network gave us the best boxing on TV for the price of a cable television subscription. Their ShoBox series has been a proven hit for Senior VP of Sports Programming Ken Hershman. The concept is simple yet brilliant. Match up two up and comers with great records and let’s see what happens. Sometimes the results are surprising. Many have passed the ShoBox test and went on to bigger and better things. Others have been exposed as having padded records and eventually their careers stall and take a dive.

3. More safety in Mexico so I can attend a show without a gun battle breaking out

Having lived near the Tijuana border all my life I’m dismayed at the war zone that the city has evolved into. Every day there are reports of shootings fueled by the drug war trade. Believe it or not, there was a time when Tijuana was safe and most wouldn’t have thought twice about crossing the border for some seafood and nightlife. No more. Having covered several boxing cards on Revolucion Avenue many years ago, I got a taste of just how important the sport is to Mexican fans. It’s also important to me but not that important. For now I’ll stick to covering shows at the Pechanga Casino and in the less dangerous city of L.A. I never thought I’d say that.

2. Pac Man vs. Mayweather

This is the fight everyone wants to see. Seeing how Mayweather dominated Pac Man’s arch enemy, Juan Manuel Marquez, you have to wonder if the Filipino can handle Lil’ Floyd’s speed and size. One thing is for sure, betting against Pacquiao doesn’t usually work out for me. It never has. There’s no future in it. So if the fight gets done it’s Pacquiao by TKO in ten.

1. And finally

One final wish is reserved for all the readers of TheSweetScience.com I wish you all a healthy and happy 2010. Thank you for your continued loyalty to the site. It’s very much appreciated.

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Articles of 2009

A Very Special New Year's Day Column

Published

15 years ago

December 30, 2009

Robert Mladinich

It has been just over four months since Nick Charles, the play-by-play announcer for Shobox: The New Generation, was diagnosed with stage IV bladder cancer and forced to take a medical hiatus from the monthly show that has aired since 2001.

Since then he has undergone grueling chemotherapy treatments that have resulted in him losing all of his hair as he forces himself to live as normal of a life as possible. Through sheer force of will, as well as the strength and support that he receives from his wonderfully loving family and his strong Christian faith, the 63-year-old Charles has managed to keep his weight up while not falling prey to the always lingering threats of depression, cynicism and negativity.

If one was unaware that he was battling such an insidious disease, you’d never know from talking on the phone to him that he has been to hell and back. He has lost none of the inspiring energy that has endeared him to members of the boxing community and legions of worldwide viewers.

“I’m doing great,” Charles said during a telephone conversation on December 30th. “I’ve been off the chemo for a month, and the doctors have told me that I’m 80 percent in remission. I’m going to see them again in three months. It may come back, but if it takes one year, or two years, or however long, I’m going to make the most of the good time.”

As physically and emotionally wrenching as the grim diagnosis and subsequent treatment has been, even for someone as perpetually positive as Charles, the longtime announcer said a lot of good things have come from it.

Having been married three times, Charles is the father of four children: Jason, 38, Melissa, 34, Charlotte, 22, and Giovanna, 3 ½.

While Charles is not big on regrets, he is the first to admit that he wasn’t always there for his older children. For many years he traveled the world as a CNN correspondent, often putting the demands of his career above all else, including those closest to him. Nowhere was the strain more evident than in his relationship with Melissa.

Having been divorced from Melissa’s mother since 1977, Charles said his relationship with that daughter has been especially “hot and cold, all of our lives.”

His illness has enabled them to forge a relationship that has been “based on a massive amount of forgiveness and understanding.”

“This has had a tremendous healing effect on both of us,” said Charles. “My illness has had a fortifying effect on a lot of things, the most important of which is my relationships with my family.”

That also includes his first wife, with whom he has had an often acrimonious relationship over the past three decades.

“It took a long time for the scab to become a scar, but we had lunch one day and it was so great to once again see the gentle, soft sides of each other,” he explained. “The whole divorce process creates a hardness that doesn’t always go away.”

Charles is also the grandfather to three children, some of whom are about the same age as his youngest daughter. He jokes that he has a “nuclear 21st century family” because of the similar ages of two generations of children. One of the hardest things for him has been the realization that he can’t always play with them in manner in which he would like.

“The hemoglobin is the fuel in your tank, so when it’s low you can’t will yourself to do things no matter how much you want to,” said Charles. “You can’t just sleep it off or work through it. I don’t want the kids to wonder why I can’t play in the backyard with them, or kick a soccer ball, or throw them in the air.”

Particularly difficult is when Giovanna reminds her father of how handsome he is, but then innocently asks him what happened to his hair, eyebrows and lashes.

“You try to keep things on a need to know basis, which is not easy when dealing with curious kids,” said Charles.

While Charles might look like the kind of guy that things have often come easy to, the reality is that his beginnings were far from auspicious. But, he says, his often challenging Chicago childhood blessed him with the steely resolve that has helped him so much during the arduous journey he is now on.

“I had it pretty rough growing up,” he explained. “I remember the lights and the heat being shut off and eating mustard sandwiches. I went to work at 13 and always had insecurities about the future. But I always expected and saw the best in people, so when I got sick, never once did I say 'Why me?”

Since taking a leave of absence from Shobox, the outpouring of support from the boxing community has warmed Charles’s heart. For a guy that is battling for his life, he actually considers himself fortunate to be surrounded by so much goodness in both his personal and professional lives.

“I always hear that boxing people are ruthless, but I couldn’t disagree more,” said Charles. “I’ve probably received about 1,000 e-mails, and people are always following in sending their best wishes. From the relatively unknown people in boxing to many of the more famous people, there has been an outpouring of true affection.”

Charles said that the Top Rank organization has been exceedingly kind and gracious. He was touched beyond description when he learned that officials in Oklahoma got special permission to have a seamstress sew “Keep Fighting Nick” onto their sleeves. He chokes up when talking about cut man Stitch Duran giving up an endorsement opportunity so he could put Charles’s name on his outfit. He never tires of hearing shout-outs from fighters on television.

Charles has always been a people person with an inordinate faith in the goodness of his fellow man. Battling this illness has only made his already strong faith in humanity even stronger.

“Adversity is a great teacher, and it really teaches you who your genuine friends are,” said Charles. “I have a lot of friends.”

He also has a remarkable wife, Cory, a CNN producer to whom he has been married for 11 years. She is the daughter of an electrician, a self-made woman who exudes all of the warmth of her native Brooklyn. She has reinforced her husband’s spiritual base by her love, optimism and strength of character.

“If I get down, she reminds me to not get too caught up,” said Charles. “I believe in eternity, and that has put me pretty much at peace.”

More than anything else, Charles wants to get himself back behind a microphone sooner rather than later, and hopefully on Shobox. He is the first to admit that viewers “don’t watch the series to see Nick Charles,” but he is proud of the fact that he was “part of the identity” of such a popular show.

“And people love comeback stories,” added Charles. “That’s the message I’m getting from the people out there.”

In boxing the word “champion” is often overused because it pertains only to winning belts and receiving worldwide recognition for being the best at your craft. The reality is that life’s real champions have other qualities, such as the innate ability to treat people well and always make them feel better about themselves, especially when the recipients of the goodwill are in no position to give them anything back.

By that standard of measure, Charles is as much, if not more of a champion than all of the boxers he has covered during the nine years that Shobox has been on the air.

I know I speak for scores of others when I say, “Happy New Year, Champ. We hope that you are the comeback story of the year in 2010.”

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