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OUT OF THE PAST
The Italianate courtyard of the Boston Public Library is a secret place for scholars and students. It is modeled after Rome’s Palazzo della Cancelleria with its marble arches and stone corridors forming a square of sixteenth century masonry. There’s a vision rising out of the fountain in the center –a nude sculpture called Bacchante and Infant Faun. Condemned during the Victorian era, it depicts wanton revelry in honor of the god of wine.
On Thursday, I sat on one of the ornate chairs before an ornate table and gazed upon another vision –this one fully clothed and at study. Torrents of ash blonde hair kept spilling forward over her open book. She’d throw it over a shoulder. It fell again. She tucked it behind an ear. It untucked and launched itself back onto the page. The fifth time she threw it back, she bristled. I was tickled. When she packed her things and arose out of her chair like a bacchante in a blue dress, she glanced my way. To my dismay, she turned and went in the wrong direction. I watched her go and then watched her turn back toward (what I deemed) destiny’s direction. There were about six steps between us –which meant that I had about six seconds to find words that struck a balance between confident and cute. As it happened nothing happened. She breezed by my nonchalant pose and gave me a look as if my zipper was down. Unfortunately, it was.
Boston has many secret places that only the locals know, and a storied past at every corner –but you won’t find either if you ignore the proverbial warnings about driving in this city. You’d be better off on a horse. This city wasn’t planned on a grid like New York or Washington; it wasn’t planned at all. Ralph Waldo Emerson said that cows did the urban planning and he wasn’t wrong enough. “In Boston town of old renown,” an old postcard reads, “the gentle cows the pathways made, which grew to streets that keep strangers quite dismayed.”
It is best explored on foot.
After a wardrobe adjustment and few minutes repairing chipped pride, I left the Palazzo and strolled through the ritzy Back Bay. The Mechanics Building stood around the corner on Huntington Avenue and hosted hundreds of boxing matches. One of them involved Harry Greb and Kid Norfolk in 1924. It ended after the referee disqualified the wrong guy, at least according to the menacing crowd that almost tore the walls down. The match was trumpeted by the dailies as “the fastest and most curious contest ever in a Boston ring.” In 1959 the building was razed to make way for the Prudential Plaza …to make way for placid modernity:
The spot where Greb and Norfolk brawled like sailors is now a reflecting pool.
I walked down Boylston Street toward what was once the Combat Zone, past the site of the Gilded Cage, a strip club managed in the sixties by a former champion from the twenties named Johnny Wilson.
Born Giovanni Panica, Wilson was a Sicilian-American out of Charlestown and never out of connections –with friends like mob bosses Frank Costello and Al Capone why should he be? For three years he ducked Greb to stay connected to his tainted crown. When Greb finally cornered him, he hammered Wilson’s “overhanging nose” for fifteen rounds and took that crown. Another middleweight named Jock Malone was confident that he could do to Wilson what Greb did; so confident, in fact, that he promised the press that he would jump into Boston Harbor if he lost. Wilson knocked him out. The next day, a crowd of thousands gathered at the Charlestown Bridge to see if he’d keep his word. Malone was there on time. He climbed over the railing and posed for a moment fully dressed and wearing a straw hat. “I owe Wilson a splash!” he called out before plunging fifty feet into the brine. Boston cheered as he swam ashore and triumphantly hopped into a waiting car.
Wilson lost five of his next seven and hung up the gloves. He ran a speakeasy during Prohibition and got adjusted to cigars and sleeping til noon. By the time I arrived on the scene, he was pushing 80 and still had his hair parted down the middle, black and slicked back –Roaring Twenties style. In the evening he’d have a glass of burgundy, light up a cigar, and walk these same streets for hours on end, reminiscing.
I went left at Boylston Square, maneuvering my way through artsy types and Emerson students in flip-flops. The Paramount Theatre approached out of the past.
When it was built during the Hoover administration, the Paramount was a movie house –one of the first of its kind, all class. By the time Nixon got in, it was a dilapidated creep joint, all crass. The only white guys at this end of Washington Street wore raincoats; the rest didn’t even pretend to be part of civil society. Sharp ones with sharp eyes scanned for easy marks. The broken ones lay down in dark corners. By the eighties they were lying around on the sidewalks too. Young hoodlums like this one couldn’t even maintain a respectable swagger without stepping over them.
The Paramount reopened last year –all class once again. A seven thousand bulb marquee lights up Washington Street like a dream, like a great comeback.
As the evening sky turned orange and then dimmed, I was in the North End –the old Italian enclave a stone’s throw from Faneuil Hall. The Fisherman’s Feast, a tradition brought from Sicily to these shores a hundred years ago, was beginning. A crowd was carrying a statue of the Madonna down to Christopher Columbus Park to bless the fishing waters. Heralded by a marching band, the procession winded its way back to a chapel where the statue rested. Green, white, and red confetti littered byways lined with carts hawking salsicce, arancini, pizza, and –best of all– cannoli from Mike’s Pastry. A gypsy offered handwriting analysis. A master of ceremonies sat in a booth and heckled the yuppies who didn’t buy raffle tickets. “You wit tha green shirt, buy a raffle ticket… Where you goin’? Where you goin’?”
Local boxing legend Tony DeMarco was there –it was his night.
Unlike fellow Siciliano Johnny Wilson, DeMarco was born right here, on Fleet Street. Way back in ’55 he became one of the shortest welterweight champions in history with one of the longest nicknames –“Short, Dark, and Harmful.” He lost his title to a fiercer Italian in Carmen Basilio though he never lost his friends. They all came out this evening to see him honored by the Madonna del Soccorso di Sciacca Society as the “Italian-American of the Year.” He climbed the stairs onto a makeshift stage as if it was a ring and carried a water bottle in his hand. He’s pushing 80 now, and the busted beak and heavy scarring around the brows told me he got off easy. There were no signs of impairment, no sobering reminders of those twenty-four rounds with Basilio that would have killed lesser men.
When he took the microphone he offered no war stories. He spoke instead of love and friendship. His father was from the fisherman’s town of Sciacca in Sicily, his mother was too (“God bless her soul”), so this feast is close to his heart. “I know they see me now,” he said as tears welled up, “I am as proud to receive this award as I was when I became welterweight champion of the world.”
His arms spread wide as if to embrace the cheering crowd. Camera phones clicked where once flashbulbs exploded.…
It was getting late when I sat on an ornate chair before an ornate table in front of Caffe Vittoria. Hanover Street still bustled with tourists looking for secret places and hints of the North End’s storied past. I sipped espresso. Boston is a sentimental city, I mused. It’s a city that holds onto yesterday so tightly that even its new glories are often old glories restored, if only for a night.
With that, I walked back toward Boylston Square …and wished I had a cigar.
……Image via c21rooney on Flickr. Contemporary fight reports involving Greb can be found on Bill Paxton’s website: harrygreb.com; Details about Johnny Wilson in 1970 from Bud Collins’ “Portrait of an Ex-Champ” (Boston Globe 11/15/70); Jock Malone’s dive off the Charlestown Bridge reported by the Boston Daily Globe 8/1/24 (“Malone Leaps 50 Feet Into The Harbor, Big Crowd Watching”). DeMarco’s ascension to the title is also reported by the Globe, 4/2/1955 (“DeMarco Wins Welter Crown; TKO Victor Over Saxton In 14th”)…..
…Tony DeMarco’s autobiography, Nardo: Memoirs of a Boxing Champion (written with Ellen Zappala) has just been released. Order it soon and he’ll sign it….
Springs Toledo may be contacted at scalinatella@hotmail.com.
Emanuel Navarrete and Rafael Espinoza Shine in Phoenix
PHOENIX – Saturday was a busy night on the global boxing scene, and it’s quite likely that the howling attendees in Phoenix’s Footprint Center witnessed the finest overall card of the international schedule. The many Mexican flags on display in the packed, scaled down arena signaled the event’s theme.
Co-main events featured rematches that arose from a pair of prior crowd-pleasing slugfests. Each of tonight’s headlining bouts ended at the halfway point, but that was their only similarity.
Emanuel “Vaquero” Navarrete, now 39-2-1 (32), defended his WBO Junior Lightweight belt with a dramatic stoppage of more-than-willing Oscar Valdez, 32-3 (24). The 29-year-old champion spoke of retirement wishes, but after dominating a blazing battle in which he scored three knockdowns, his only focus was relaxing during the holidays then getting back to what sounded like long-term business.
“Valdez was extremely tough in this fight,” said Navarrete. “I knew I had to push him back and I did. You are now witnessing the second phase of my career and you can expect great things from me in 2025.”
“I don’t really know about the future,” said the crestfallen, 33-year-old Valdez. “No excuses. He did what he wanted to and I couldn’t.”
Navarrete, a three-division titlist, came up one scorecard short of a fourth belt in his previous fight last May, a split decision loss to Denys Berinchyk. This was Navarrete’s fourth Arizona appearance so he was cheered like a homeboy, but Valdez was definitely the crowd favorite, evident from the cheers that erupted as both fighters were shown arriving in glistening, low rider automobiles.
Both men came out throwing huge shots, but it was Navarrete who scored a flash knockdown in the first round, setting the tone for the rest of the fight. There was fierce action in every frame, with Navarrete getting the best of most of it, but even when he was in trouble Valdez roared back and brought the crowd to their feet. He got dropped again at the very end of round four, and Navarrete sent his mouthpiece into orbit the round after that.
When Navarrette drove Valdez into the ropes during round six it looked like referee Raul Caiz, Jr was about to intervene, but before he could decide, Navarrete finished matters himself with a perfect left to the ribs that crumpled Valdez into a KO at 2:42.
“He talked about getting ready to retire soon so I told him we had to fight again right now,” said Valdez prior to the rematch. There were numerous “be careful what you wish for” type predictions of doom and he entered the ring at around a two to one underdog, understanding the contest’s make or break stakes. “Boxing penalizes you if you have a lot of losses,” observed Valdez. “It’s not like other sports where you can lose and do better next season. In boxing, most people don’t want to see you again after a couple of losses.”
What Valdez might decide remains to be seen, but even in defeat he proved to be a warrior worth watching.
Co-Feature
After their epic, razor-close encounter almost exactly a year ago, it was obvious Rafael Espinoza, and fellow 30-year-old Robeisy Ramirez should meet again for the WBO featherweight title belt Espinoza earned by an upset majority decision. Espinoza turned the trick again this time around, inside the distance, but it was more anti-climactic than anything like toe-to-toe.
The 6’1” Espinoza, now 26-0 (22), was the aggressor from the opening frame, but 5’6” Ramirez, 14-3 (9) employed his short stature well to stay out of immediate danger and countered to the body for a slight edge. The Cuban challenger avoided much of their previous firefight and initially controlled the tempo. The crowd jeered him for staying away but it was an effective strategy, at least at first.
Espinoza connected much better in the fifth round and looked fresher as Ramirez’s face rapidly reddened. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere in round six, Ramirez took a punch then raised a glove in surrender. Whatever the reason, even looking at Ramirez’s swollen right eye, it looked like a “No Mas” moment. Replays showed a straight right to the eye socket, but that didn’t stop the crowd from hooting their disgust after ref Chris Flores signaled the end at 0:12.
***
Richard Torrez, Jr, now 12-0 (11), displayed his Olympic silver medal pedigree in a heavyweight bout against Issac Munoz, 18-2-1 (15). Torrez, 236.6, found his punching range quickly with southpaw leads as Munoz, 252, tried to stand his ground but looked hurt by early body work that forced him into the ropes. He was gasping for breath as Torrez peppered him in the second, and Munoz went back to his corner on unsteady legs.
Munoz’s team should have thought about saving him for another day in the third as he ate big shots. Luckily, referee Raul Caiz, Jr. was wiser and had seen enough, waving it off for a TKO at 0:59.
“I don’t train for the opponent,” reflected Torrez, who isn’t far from true contender status. “Every time I train, I train for a world championship fight.”
***
Super-lightweight Lindolfo Delgado, 139.9, improved to 22-0 (16), and took another step into the world title picture against Jackson Marinez, now 22-4 (10), 139.2.
On paper this junior welterweight matchup appeared fairly even, and Marinez managed to keep it that way for almost half the scheduled ten rounds against a solid prospect but Delgado kept upping the ante until Marinez was out of chips. The assembled swarm was whistling for more action after three tentative opening frames, as Delgado loaded up but couldn’t put much offense together.
That changed in the 4th when Delgado connected with solid crosses. In the fifth, a fine combination dropped Marinez into a delayed knockdown and a wicked follow-up right to the guts finished the wobbly Marinez, who had nothing to be ashamed of, off in the arms of ref Wes Melton. Official TKO time was 2:13.
In a matter of concurrent programming, Saturday also held a lot of highly publicized college football and basketball games which likely detracted from the larger mainstream audience and media coverage this fight card deserved. That’s a shame but you can’t fault boxing, Top Rank, or any of the fighters for that because, once again, they all came through big time in Phoenix.
Photos credit: Mikey Williams / Top Rank
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A change of champions took place as Richardson Hitchins rallied from a lethargic start to wrest the IBF super lightweight title from Australia’s Liam Paro by split decision on Saturday in Puerto Rico at Coliseo Roberto Clemente in San Juan.
Brooklyn has another world champion.
“I’m just happy to be a world champion,” Hitchins said.
Hitchins (19-0, 7 KOs) proved that his style of fighting could prevail over Paro (25-1, 15 KOs) who had previously knocked off another Puerto Rican champion, Subriel Matias.
Both fighters expected a different kind of encounter as Paro immediately started the fight with constant pressure and short, precise combinations. Hitchins had expected a different attack and seemed hesitant to pull the trigger.
“I couldn’t get my timing,” said Hitchins. “I thought he was going to put the pressure on me.”
Soon Hitchins ramped up his attack.
After Paro had jumped ahead with a constant strategic attack, Hitchins slipped into second gear behind a sharp right counter that found the target repeatedly.
Things began to swing in the Brooklyn fighter’s favor.
Those long arms came in handy for Hitchins who snapped off deadeye rights through Paro’s guard repeatedly. Soon the southpaw Aussie’s eye began to show signs of damage.
But Paro never quit.
Aside from using quick counters, Paro began firing lead lefts and the occasional right hook and uppercut. But seldom did he target the body. Slowly, the rounds began mounting in favor of the Brooklyn fighter.
Perhaps the best blow of the fight took place in the ninth round as Hitchins connected flush with a one-two combination. Though stunned, Paro trudged forward looking to immediately counter.
He mostly failed.
Still, Paro knew the rounds were not one-sided and he could close the distance. The Aussie fighter did well in the 11th and 12th round but could not land a significant blow. After 12 rounds one judge saw Paro the winner 117-11, while two others saw Hitchins the winner 116-112 for the new IBF titlist.
“He’s a hell of a boxer,” said Paro who loses the title in his first defense. “It’s not a loss, it’s a lesson.”
Other Bouts
A battle between Puerto Rican featherweights saw Henry Lebron (20-0) out-battle Christopher Diaz-Velez by decision after 10 action-packed rounds.
In a lightweight fight Agustin Quintana (21-2-1) gave Marc Castro (13-1) his first loss to win by split decision after 10 rounds.
Welterweight Jose Roman Vazquez (14-1) defeated Jalil Hackett (9-1) by split decision after 10 rounds.
Photo credit: Melina Pizano / Matchroom
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A Six-Pack of Undercard Action from the Top Rank Card in Phoenix
Top Rank promoted a 10-fight card tonight at the NBA arena in Phoenix. The undercard included welterweight standout Giovani Santillan and a bevy of young prospects.
Based on his showing tonight, Albert “Chop Chop” Gonzalez is a prospect on the cusp of being a contender. A high-octane fighter with ring smarts that bely his tender age, the 22-year-old Gonzalez pitched a near 8-round shutout over Argentina’s Gerardo Antonio Perez, advancing his record to 12-0 (7). Although Gonzalez was forced to go the distance after five straight wins by stoppage, Perez, an Argentine who had never been stopped and was better than his 12-6-1 record, had a granite chin.
LA junior bantamweight Steven Navarro improved to 5-0 (4 KOs) with a second-round stoppage of Gabriel Bernardi (7-2). Navarro had Bernardi, a Puerto Rican, on the canvas twice before referee Raul Caiz Jr waived it off.
In a welterweight contest slated for “10,” Giovani Santillan improved to 33-1 (18 KOs) at the expense of Fredrick Lawson who retired on his stool after only one round. It was a nice confidence-booster for Santillan who took a lot of punishment in his last fight vs. Brian Norman Jr, a fight that Santillan was expected to win. However, tonight’s win should come with an asterisk as Lawson, a Chicago-based Ghanaian, is damaged goods and ought not be permitted to fight again, notwithstanding his 30-6 record. (All six of his losses, including the last three, came inside the distance.)
In a welterweight contest slated for six rounds, 19-year-old SoCal prospect Art Berrera Jr advanced to 7-0 (5 KOs) with a second-round TKO over Juan Carlos Campos (4-2) who fights out of Sioux City, Iowa. Referee Wes Melton lost his balance as he stepped in to stop the one-sided affair with a nano-second remaining in round two and went flying into the ropes, but was seemingly unhurt.
In a major surprise, Cesar Morales, a former Mexican national amateur champion, lost his pro debut to unheralded Kevin Mosquera, a 23-year-old Ecuadorian. A flash knockdown in the opening minute of final round factored into the result. The judges had it 39-36 and 38-37 for Mosquera (3-0-1) and 38-38.
The night did not start well for Morales’ trainer Robert Garcia who had five fighters in action tonight.
In the lid-lifter, 21-year-old Las Vegas lightweight DJ Zamora, a protege of the late Roger Mayweather, improved to 15-0 (10 KOs) with a second-round stoppage of Argentine import Roman Ruben Reynoso (22-6-2). Zamora put Reynoso on the canvas in the opening round with a left to the solar plexus and knocked him down in the second round with a counter left to the chin. Reynoso made it to his feet, but had no beef when the fight was waived off. The official time was 1:56 of round two.
Bouts involving former Olympians Lindolfo Delgado and Richard Torres Jr plus two compelling world title rematches round out the 10-fight card. TSS correspondent Phil Woolever is ringside. Check back later for his post-fight reports.
Photo credit: Mikey Williams / Top Rank
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Featured Articles2 weeks agoRemembering the Macho Man, Hector Camacho, a Great Sporting Character
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Featured Articles3 weeks agoThe Hauser Report: Some Thoughts on Mike Tyson vs. Jake Paul
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Featured Articles4 weeks agoAvila Perspective, Chap. 304: Mike Tyson Returns; Latino Night in Riyadh
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Featured Articles3 weeks agoGolden Boy in Riyadh Results: Zurdo Ramirez Unifies Cruiserweight Titles
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Featured Articles4 weeks agoSay It Ain’t So: Oliver McCall Returns to the Ring Next Week
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