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“TAPIA”: To Hell And Back, And Hell and Back…And Now in a Better Place
There is a scene in the documentary “Tapia,” which debuts on HBO Tuesday night (11 PM ET), where “Mi Vida Loca,” the New Mexico native who epitomized ‘talented but troubled,’ in a sport no stranger to that type, has just learned he lost a fight.
The fight occurred back near his heyday, toward the tail end of if, and Tapia recalls his thinking as the others guys’ hand was raised. He admits that his thoughts went to his wife, his beloved Teresa, and he said he knew he let her down. It was clear, more than a decade later, the emotions still stung him.
Now, when I saw the video of Tapia reacting to the loss, and saw Teresa’s face, I noted that I saw the same look on her face as was always present, when she was in his presence. I saw a look of love; adoration; concern; a love mixing romantic and maternal yearnings. I saw the look of love that all of us should be so lucky to enjoy.
Teresa Tapia was present at HBO headquarters in new York City on Wednesday evening to view the documentary “Tapia,” which was produced by the ace HBO crew, and multi-media mogul Lou Dibella in concert with rappetrepeneur 50 Cent.
I gravitated to her after paying respects to some of the persons instrumental in the superior finished product, including director Bentley Weiner, who put her stamp and attention on exemplary footage collector by film-maker Eddie Alcazar. After admitting my severe envy of writer Aaron Cohen, whose words were made to sing by Liev Schreiber, I tracked down Mrs. Tapia. She seemed in decent spirits; I didn’t note any teariness, or red eyes signaling a state which would send me away, to give her privacy.
My first question: was it love at first sight when you set eyes on the prizefighter, who comes off as a complex package of turmoil and sweetness who was destined to go from hell and back, and hell and back, as long as his perpetuity would last on this earth. “No, I think it was more of, he was interesting,” she said, her mind drifting back to Albuquerque, where both grew up, and where young Tapia rose in the ranks from the amateurs, into the pro scene, where he won crowns at super fly to feather before retiring in 2011 with a 59-5-2 mark. “And he didn’t give up. Him, he’d say it was love at first sight, but I though, ‘Gosh this person is pushy,’ she said chuckling lightly.
“I think what I loved about Johnny the most was his sense of protecting me,” she said of the man who battled the turbulent stream of thoughts and emotions which clouded his brain after his mom was murdered, when he was a little boy.
Producer DiBella weighed in on Wednesday, and said, “Everyone should watch this. Boxing fans are going to love this, there’s a lot of boxing in it, but this is not a boxing movie. This is a movie about life, about demons, addiction, drug use, mental illness, but it’s also a movie about the enduring nature of the human spirit, to not quit, to keep getting up. That’s one of the things I’ve alway loved about boxing,” the former HBO exec continued, “the metaphor about being knocked down and getting up. As sick as Johnny was, as many times as Johnny died, and was revived, Johnny never gave up on life, and most importantly, Johnny never gave up on love.”
Rick Bernstein, executive producer of HBO Sports, shared his thoughts on the film. “Johnny Tapia’s life story was an incredible journey, and we are eager to celebrate his biggest accomplishments and chronicle the toughest and most difficult moments of his turbulent life,” Bernstein said. “Tapia was so much more than just a world champion, and we want to share this gripping account with our subscribers, many of whom may have seen Johnny in his five fights on HBO, but may not know the amazing story behind the fighter.”
50 Cent, too, said the Tapia tale affected him. “Johnny’s is a story that needed to be told,” he said. “Everyone can relate to some aspect of it, which makes it that much more powerful. Personally, his journey is one that has touched me greatly.”
I shared the notion of that “hell and back and hell and back” phrase with Teresa, because it was she who was there after Johnny would make a foray into the dark zones where cocaine’s crooked finger beckoned him, for days long benders. It was she who’d dust him off, admonish him, and then hug him, when it became clear that the drug was controlling the man, and he was not of his own volition when he was off and running.
That scene when Johnny admitted it stung him to lose, because of how it would disappoint the saintly Teresa, she picked up on it, too. “He didn’t want to disappoint those he loved the most, but when I’m looking at him, I’m looking at him in utter disbelief, and with an almost maternal instinct. You just want to comfort him.”
That could occur, but then the waves would wash over him again. The powerlessness at being unable to stop fate from taking mom, the inability, despite being a man amongst men in the squared circle, to be able to conquer emotions like ring foes. He couldn’t keep them at bay, though boxing being a reason for being gave him respite.
I shared with Teresa, and by the way contemplated not doing so, but decided to do so because I think it’s valuable for many folks to hear, because they might identify with the situation, that my mom was something of a troubled soul.
She didn’t interpret things in a way that would enable her serenity, most of the time. And I really comprehended that back in 1994, which was the year Teresa married Johnny. I’d gotten into a legal scrape, and asked my father for counsel. He and I were chatting, and he then made a phone call to his wife, my mom.
Hey dad, can I say hi to mom?
He asked her, and she spoke for a span. He was silent. He then turned to me, with a grave look in his eyes.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you right now,” he informed me.
Oh that stung. Still does, more mildly now.
But…but…aren’t parents supposed to be there for you through thick and thin, I protested after he’d hung up the phone. He took a moment to compose his thought: “Your mother… is the sort of person who will not ever be truly at peace while on this earth.”
I nodded, and I got it. Not fully…but enough so that when mom died in 2009, and was, to the end, a difficult sort, I didn’t wallow in what ifs, or whys, as in, why was she the way she was. She was what she was, and she tried her best. Some people really aren’t so much built, emotionally, for the coaster ride of life. Stomaches can’t take it. Brains too frazzled to process the daily dose of indignities and slings and arrows and demonic twists fate hands us at times. My mom was one of them…and I think Johnny was too. That’s why you will talk to many folks who knew him well, and they weren’t bowled over, or catastrophically felled when they learned he’d died on May 27, 2012 from a heart attack. In a better place, they’ll say…
“There’s a part of me that, if there’s any bright side, it’s knowing that he’s crossed over to where for so long he’d wanted to be,” Teresa said. “And you feel that he’s still there…but still there’s a huge void in my heart. And nothing can fill it.” Two years on, and the pain lingers, and hasn’t dissipated the way some might expect.
Yes, she said, that man was the love of her life and she could never love that way again. There will be no remarriage in her future, she said. “I think he would be a hard act to follow,” she said, understating furiously.
Three sons, Johnathon, age 22, Johnny Lorenzo, age 14, and Johnny Niccolai, age 9, remain on earth; Teresa will now deal with children left behind, as Johnny was when his mom was taken away. They will know that mom stood by their dad every time he won crowns, did his signature backflip, and when he back-slid, back to the grotesque mistress of his, cocaine. “The addiction, I looked at it like someone who has diabetes, or whatever,” she told me.
That acceptance of a flawed being kept Johnny alive for maybe longer than many would have predicted. There were so many ODs and some suicide attempts…
The thought of seeing him again helps her when the gloom overwhelms. “One of these days,” Teresa Tapia said, “we will see each other again. I believe that that time will come. Where he’s buried, I have a spot right next to him. Not to be morbid, but I know we will be joined again.”
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Steven Navarro is the TSS 2024 Prospect of the Year
“I get ‘Bam’ vibes when I watch this kid,” said ESPN ringside commentator Tim Bradley during the opening round of Steven Navarro’s most recent match. Bradley was referencing WBC super flyweight champion Jesse “Bam” Rodriguez, a precociously brilliant technician whose name now appears on most pound-for-pound lists.
There are some common threads between Steven Navarro, the latest fighter to adopt the nickname “Kid Dynamite,” and Bam Rodriguez. Both are southpaws currently competing in the junior bantamweight division. But, of course, Bradley was alluding to something more when he made the comparison. And Navarro’s showing bore witness that Bradley was on to something.
It was the fifth pro fight for Navarro who was matched against a Puerto Rican with a 7-1 ledger. He ended the contest in the second frame, scoring three knockdowns, each the result of a different combination of punches, forcing the referee to stop it. It was the fourth win inside the distance for the 20-year-old phenom.
Isaias Estevan “Steven” Navarro turned pro after coming up short in last December’s U.S. Olympic Trials in Lafayette, Louisiana. The #1 seed in the 57 kg (featherweight) division, he was upset in the finals, losing a controversial split decision. Heading in, Navarro had won 13 national tournaments beginning at age 12.
A graduate of LA’s historic Fairfax High School, Steven made his pro debut this past April on a Matchroom Promotions card at the Fontainebleau in Las Vegas and then inked a long-term deal with Top Rank. He comes from a boxing family. His father Refugio had 10 pro fights and three of Refugio’s cousins were boxers, most notably Jose Navarro who represented the USA at the 2000 Sydney Olympics and was a four-time world title challenger as a super flyweight. Jose was managed by Oscar De La Hoya for much of his pro career.
Nowadays, the line between a prospect and a rising contender has been blurred. Three years ago, in an effort to make matters less muddled, we operationally defined a prospect thusly: “A boxer with no more than a dozen fights, none yet of the 10-round variety.” To our way of thinking, a prospect by nature is still in the preliminary-bout phase of his career.
We may loosen these parameters in the future. For one thing, it eliminates a lot of talented female boxers who, like their Japanese male counterparts in the smallest weight classes, are often pushed into title fights when, from a historical perspective, they are just getting started.
But for the time being, we will adhere to our operational definition. And within the window that we have created, Steven Navarro stood out. In his first year as a pro, “Kid Dynamite” left us yearning to see more of him.
Honorable mention: Australian heavyweight Teremoana Junior (5-0, 5 KOs)
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The Challenge of Playing Muhammad Ali
There have been countless dramatizations of Muhammad Ali’s life and more will follow in the years ahead. The most heavily marketed of these so far have been the 1977 movie titled The Greatest starring Ali himself and the 2001 biopic Ali starring Will Smith.
The Greatest was fictionalized. Its saving grace apart from Ali’s presence on screen was the song “The Greatest Love of All” which was written for the film and later popularized by Whitney Houston. Beyond that, the movie was mediocre. “Of all our sports heroes,” Frank Deford wrote, “Ali needs least to be sanitized. But The Greatest is just a big vapid valentine. It took a dive.”
The 2001 film was equally bland but without the saving grace of Ali on camera. “I hated that film,” Spike Lee said. “It wasn’t Ali.” Jerry Izenberg was in accord, complaining, “Will Smith playing Ali was an impersonation, not a performance.”
The latest entry in the Ali registry is a play running this week off-Broadway at the AMT Theater (354 West 45th Street) in Manhattan.
The One: The Life of Muhammad Ali was written by David Serero, who has produced and directed the show in addition to playing the role of Angelo Dundee in the three-man drama. Serero, age 43, was born in Paris, is of Moroccan-French-Jewish heritage, and has excelled professionally as an opera singer (baritone) and actor (stage and screen).
Let’s get the negatives out of the way first. The play is flawed. There are glaring factual inaccuracies in the script that add nothing to the dramatic arc and detract from its credibility.
On the plus side; Zack Bazile (pictured) is exceptionally good as Ali. And Serero (wearing his director’s hat) brings the most out of him.
Growing up, Bazile (now 28) excelled in multiple sports. In 2018, while attending Ohio State, he won the NCAA Long Jump Championship and was named Big Ten Field Athlete of the Year. He also dabbled in boxing, competed in two amateur fights in 2022, and won both by knockout. He began acting three years ago.
Serero received roughly one thousand resumes when he published notices for a casting call in search of an actor to play Ali. One-hundred-twenty respondents were invited to audition.
“I had people who looked like Ali and were accomplished actors,” Serero recalls. “But when they were in the room, I didn’t feel Ali in front of me. You have to remember; we’re dealing with someone who really existed and there’s video of him, so it’s not like asking someone to play George Washington.”
And Ali was Ali. That’s a hard act to follow.
Bazile is a near-perfect fit. At 6-feet-2-inches tall, 195 pounds, he conveys Ali’s physicality. His body is sculpted in the manner of the young Ali. He moves like an athlete because he is an athlete. His face resembles Ali’s and his expressions are very much on the mark in the way he transmits emotion to the audience. He uses his voice the way Ali did. He moves his eyes the way Ali did. He has THE LOOK.
Zack was born the year that Ali lit the Olympic flame in Atlanta, so he has no first-hand memory of the young Ali who set the world ablaze. “But as an actor,” he says, “I’m representing Ali. That’s a responsibility I take very seriously. Everyone has an essence about them. I had to find the right balance – not too over the top – and capture that.”
Sitting in the audience watching Bazile, I felt at times as though it was Ali onstage in front of me. Zack has the pre-exile Ali down perfectly. The magic dissipates a bit as the stage Ali grows older. Bazile still has to add the weight of aging to his craft. But I couldn’t help but think, “Muhammad would have loved watching Zack play him.”
****
Twenty-four hours after the premiere of The One, David Serero left the stage for a night to shine brightly in a real boxing ring., The occasion was the tenth fight card that Larry Goldberg has promoted at Sony Hall in New York, a run that began with Goldberg’s first pro show ever on October 13, 2022.
Most of the fights on the six-bout card played out as expected. But two were tougher for the favorites than anticipated. Jacob Riley Solis was held to a draw by Daniel Jefferson. And Andy Dominguez was knocked down hard by Angel Meza in round three before rallying to claim a one-point split-decision triumph.
Serero sang the national anthem between the second and third fights and stilled the crowd with a virtuoso performance. Fans at sports events are usually restless during the singing of the anthem. This time, the crowd was captivated. Serero turned a flat ritual into an inspirational moment. People were turning to each other and saying “Wow!”
****
The unexpected happened in Tijuana last Saturday night when 25-to-1 underdog Bruno Surace climbed off the canvas after a second-round knockdown to score a shocking, one-punch, sixth-round stoppage of Jaime Munguia. There has been a lot of commentary since then about what happened that night. The best explanation I’ve heard came from a fan named John who wrote, “The fight was not over in the second round although Munguia thought it was because, if he caught him once, he would naturally catch him again. Plus he looked at this little four KO guy [Surace had scored 4 knockouts in 27 fights] the way all the fans did, like he had no punch. That is what a fan can afford to do. But a fighter should know better. The ref reminds you, ‘Protect yourself at all times.’ Somebody forgot that.”
photo (c) David Serero
Thomas Hauser’s email address is thomashauserwriter@gmail.com. His most recent book – MY MOTHER and me – is a personal memoir available at Amazon.com. https://www.amazon.com/My-Mother-Me-Thomas-Hauser/dp/1955836191/ref=sr_1_1?crid=5C0TEN4M9ZAH&keywords=thomas+hauser&qid=1707662513&sprefix=thomas+hauser%2Caps%2C80&sr=8-1
In 2004, the Boxing Writers Association of America honored Hauser with the Nat Fleischer Award for career excellence in boxing journalism. In 2019, Hauser was selected for boxing’s highest honor – induction into the International Boxing Hall of Fame.
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L.A.’s Rudy Hernandez is the 2024 TSS Trainer of the Year
L.A.’s Rudy Hernandez is the 2024 TSS Trainer of the Year
If asked to name a prominent boxing trainer who operates out of a gym in Los Angeles, the name Freddie Roach would jump immediately to mind. Best known for his work with Manny Pacquaio, Roach has been named the Trainer of the Year by the Boxing Writers Association of America a record seven times.
A mere seven miles from Roach’s iconic Wild Card Gym is the gym that Rudy Hernandez now calls home. Situated in the Little Tokyo neighborhood in downtown Los Angeles, the L.A. Boxing Gym – a relatively new addition to the SoCal boxing landscape — is as nondescript as its name. From the outside, one would not guess that two reigning world champions, Junto Nakatani and Anthony Olascuaga, were forged there.
As Freddie Roach will be forever linked with Manny Pacquiao, so will Rudy Hernandez be linked with Nakatani. The Japanese boxer was only 15 years old when his parents packed him off to the United States to be tutored by Hernandez. With Hernandez in his corner, the lanky southpaw won titles at 112 and 115 and currently holds the WBO bantamweight (118) belt. In his last start, he knocked out his Thai opponent, a 77-fight veteran who had never been stopped, advancing his record to 29-0 (22 KOs).
Nakatani’s name now appears on several pound-for-pound lists. A match with Japanese superstar Naoya Inoue is brewing. When that match comes to fruition, it will be the grandest domestic showdown in Japanese boxing history.
“Junto Nakatani is the greatest fighter I’ve ever trained. It’s easy to work with him because even when he came to me at age 15, his focus was only on boxing. It was to be a champion one day and nothing interfered with that dream,” Hernandez told sports journalist Manouk Akopyan writing for Boxing Scene.
Akin to Nakatani, Rudy Hernandez built Anthony Olascuaga from scratch. The LA native was rucked out of obscurity in April of 2023 when Jonathan Gonzalez contracted pneumonia and was forced to withdraw from his date in Tokyo with lineal light flyweight champion Kenshiro Teraji. Olascuaga, with only five pro fights under his belt, filled the breach on 10 days’ notice and although he lost (TKO by 9), he earned kudos for his gritty performance against the man recognized as the best fighter in his weight class.
Two fights later, back in Tokyo, Olascuaga copped the WBO world flyweight title with a third-round stoppage of Riku Kano. His first defense came in October, again in Japan, and Olascuaga retained his belt with a first-round stoppage of the aforementioned Gonzalez. (This bout was originally ruled a no-contest as it ended after Gonzalez suffered a cut from an accidental clash of heads. But the referee ruled that Gonzalez was fit to continue before the Puerto Rican said “no mas,” alleging his vision was impaired, and the WBO upheld a protest from the Olascuaga camp and changed the result to a TKO. Regardless, Rudy Hernandez’s fighter would have kept his title.)
Hernandez, 62, is the brother of the late Genaro “Chicanito” Hernandez. A two-time world title-holder at 130 pounds who fought the likes of Azumah Nelson, Oscar De La Hoya and Floyd Mayweather Jr., Chicanito passed away in 2011, a cancer victim at age 45.
Genaro “Chicanito” Hernandez was one of the most popular fighters in the Hispanic communities of Southern California. Rudy Hernandez, a late bloomer of sorts – at least in terms of public recognition — has kept his brother’s flame alive with own achievements. He is a worthy honoree for the 2024 Trainer of the Year.
Note: This is the first in our series of annual awards. The others will arrive sporadically over the next two weeks.
Photo credit: Steve Kim
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