After dismantling Antonio DeMarco of Tijuana for The WBC lightweight World Championship, Larry Merchant asked Adrien Broner if he would rather be known as a “Boxer or a Fighter”.
“If I had a choice, I would be a Playboy, Larry.”
Quote of the year.
Adrien Broner: I Would Rather Be a Playboy
It is also kind of strange, since when I was a young cub, I always wanted to be a professional boxer. And now I am an International Playboy. It is funny how the world works.
Anyways, Adrien Broner is the real deal. Is he the next Pernell Whitaker? Not sure. Is he the next Floyd Mayweather Jr.? Not sure either.
However, I think he may punch harder than both those guys.
Adrien Broner Knockouts – Boxing Highlights
On another note, I have been so disconnected from boxing lately, that I didn’t even know that Emanuel Steward passed away.
I had the pleasure of being introduced to Emanuel Steward on more than a few occasions. The first time when I was really young. I am not completely sure he ever remembered me, but he was the coolest cat you will ever meet.
G Manifesto Hall of Fame Member of the highest order.
Rest in Peace, boxing will never be the same.
On that same note of being disconnected, I finally watched Sergio Martinez VS Julio Cesar Chavez Jr.
Sergio Martinez is The Man. He fights at a level that is so damn elevated. Tons of heart too. Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. also proved himself to the haters. I have always said that people were way too hard on the kid. He can fight.
Chuvalo was rough, tough and very strong; He had a “cast iron” chin, similar to that of the great Jim Jeffries; He fought the hardest of punchers – George Foreman, Joe Frazier, Cleveland Williams, Oscar “Ringo” Bonavena, Yvon Durelle – and was never knocked down; During his career, he won the Heavyweight Championship of Canada
George was inducted into the World Boxing Hall of Fame in 1997
Interview conducted by Barry Lindenman
BL: You come from Canada which is known for turning out tough, rugged hockey players. You were known as a tough and rugged boxer. How did you get involved in the sport of boxing when it appears from your boxing style that you would have made a great hockey player as well?
GC: You think I fight like a hockey player (laughing)? You think all Canadians are tough? I thought they were mostly “stick and move” guys (laughing). As a kid, I remember when I first opened up a Ring magazine. It was the first time I’d ever seen anything about boxing, heard anything about boxing or even knowing about boxing. For me it was like when a kid opens up the centerfold of Playboy. To me, it was like “wow, this is it!” I thought it was like the greatest thing in the world. I saw pictures of guys with all these muscles throwing punches shots at each other. I guess it was the respect for power that really turned me on to boxing as a young man.
BL: Did you have a certain boxing role model that you patterned your style after?
GC: No, not really. There was a lot of guys I liked but I don’t think I ever tried to fight like this guy or that guy. I grew up watching Joe Louis, Willie Pep and Ray Robinson. As a kid when I first started to box, those guys were champions of the world so they’ll always mean something a little more special to me than a lot of the other guys. You’re looking at me through American eyes. To me, I’m just a fighter, you know what I mean? I don’t think I had a Canadian style or an American style. My style was just mine, just walk in and pitch.
BL: You will always be remembered as a long time heavyweight contender who fought the best, took their best shots and was never knocked off his feet either as a pro or an amateur. Are you satisfied with your reputation and how you’re remembered as a boxer?
GC: First of all, it depends who’s trying to remember me. Certain guys may think of me in a certain way and other guys may think of me in another way. Most people think I was a tough guy who took a good rap. I think I was a lot better defensive fighter than I was ever given credit for. I’ll go down in history as a supposed tough guy who fought a lot of tough guys, beat a lot of tough guys, lost to some tough guys. I was there. I was a contender for almost a couple of decades and knocked on the door a few times, but am I satisfied, hell no! If you’ve never been champion of the world you can’t be satisfied. I guess I can say I’m proud of my achievements. I’m happy with some of the things I’ve done. I did OK. A fighter always thinks he coulda done better than he did. There’s always a gnawing kind of feeling that I wish I could have been champion of the world. There’s a piece of me that always feels kinda incomplete. All in all, I did a lot better in life than most guys. I was ranked number two in the world at one time. Not too many guys can say they were number two in the world, except Hertz, me and Hertz (laughing)!
BL: Having faced such great fighters such as Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier, who would you say was the hardest puncher you ever faced in the ring?
GC: It was neither of those guys. Mike Dejohn was a real good wacker. Mike Dejohn knocked out a lot of guys in one round. Mike Dejohn was a good banger. Foreman was a good banger too, of course. Mel Turnbaugh was also. I guess they were about the three hardest punchers: George Foreman, Mel Turnbaugh and Mike Dejohn.
BL: During your great career, you fought Muhammad Ali twice and went the distance with him both times. You first fought him in 1966 just before his three year exile from the sport and then again in 1972 soon after his return to the ring. What differences did you notice in Ali in the two times that you fought him and did you alter your strategy between the first and second fights?
GC: You got it wrong. Ali went the distance with me both times (laughing). I threw more head punches in the second fight. In the first fight, I concentrated on maybe 75 – 80 % to the body.
I kinda switched it the other way around in the second fight. I fought a smarter fight the second time. I hit him with a lot of jabs in the second fight. Nobody ever talks about that but if you look at the film, you’ll notice I hit him with a lot of jabs. But I still think I should have worked the body more than I did. I worked the body too much in the first fight and not enough in the second fight. The second fight was still a very close, hard fought fight. Some sportswriters even thought I won the second fight. How was Ali different? He was just more energetic in the first fight. He threw more punches and had more verve in a sense. He was trying to get by in the second fight with a lot of guile. He didn’t have the same physical attributes as he had in the first fight. He had flashes of it but he couldn’t sustain it like he could in the first fight. In the first fight, he was a much better conditioned athlete. After his exile, he never really came back. He never came back to the fighter he was before he was put into exile. He was never that fighter ever, ever, ever again. Even though he fought some great fights after with Joe Frazier for instance, he was never the same fighter. When he beat George Foreman he beat him by using his brains. He sucked him in with the “rope – a – dope.” He didn’t beat him on physical ability as much as a well planned fight plan. He used his intelligence and general boxing savvy and let Foreman punch himself out. Then he just took over. But he was not the same athlete ever again.
BL: Ali was famous for giving his opponents nicknames. Sonny Liston was the Bear, Joe Frazier was the Gorilla. He nicknamed you the “Washer Woman.” Do you know what he meant by that?
GC: In September of 1963, I beat Mike Dejohn, knocked him colder than Missouri mule. I knocked him out with a left hook and pummeled him over the ropes. It didn’t occur to me until twenty five years later in 1988 why he called me the “Washer Woman.” It was because in the fight with Dejohn, I had his back draped way over the ropes and I already had him knocked out. I had him pinned against the ropes and I started pummeling him, just beating on a knocked out guy. It looked like I was working on a scrub board. That’s why he called me the “Washer Woman.” It sounds uncomplimentary but it really wasn’t. Ali said George Chuvalo fights rough and tough like a “Washer Woman.” It was a kind of a cute term.
BL: Although you never won a world title during your career, what would you say was your greatest moment in your boxing career?
GC: There’s a few of them. I knocked out Doug Jones, something that Ali couldn’t do. In fact, a lot of people thought he actually beat Ali. I knocked out Jerry Quarry when a lot of people thought I would lose to Quarry. I knocked him out with a second to go in the seventh round. After the Frazier fight, my eyes had a propensity to swell up very rapidly so in the fight with Quarry, I fought like a one eyed cat peeping in a seafood store for about four rounds. The referee told me if the eye gets any worse he was gonna stop the fight so if I didn’t knock him out when I did, they would have stopped the fight. I also knocked out Manuel Ramos in five rounds. He was the Mexican champion who’d beaten Ernie Terrell and a few other guys and had Frazier down before Frazier eventually stopped him.
He fought everyone and anyone who meant anything in the heavyweight division in the 50’s, 60s and 70’s. No one ever knocked him down, and only Joe Frazier and George Foreman were able to stop the man who Muhammad Ali called “The Washer Woman.” Make no mistake; George Chuvalo was no washer woman. In fact he was without question the toughest of the tough; the most rugged of the top men of his day.
He faced, in a career that spanned 22 years, the aforementioned Ali, Frazier, and Foreman, plus Floyd Patterson, Jerry Quarry, Doug Jones, Cleveland Williams, Brian London, Jimmy Ellis, Ernie Terrell, Zora Folley, Mike DeJohn, Robert Cleroux, Manuel Ramos, and Oscar Bonavena. Even before he was experienced enough he was put in with ranked contenders, Howard King, Big Bob Baker, Julio Mederos, and Alex Miteff. George turned pro in 1956 winning four fights by quick KOs in one night.
This all begs the question; how is it possible that Chuvalo looks (okay, his nose is a little mushy) and sounds as though he never stepped into the ring let alone absorbed the punches of the toughest men in the world? Just ask Chuvalo for an answer to that. He has a theory that appears to have validity.
“Some guys are built for speed,” explained the former Canadian heavyweight boss. “Some guys are built for power. Your body type dictates your style, I was a walk in pitcher, and I didn’t move too much. I wanted to walk in and slug it out. I can tell you the guy who won’t take a good shot; the guy with the small head and a neck like a stack of dimes.”
He explained that fighters who had bigger heads and short powerful necks were better equipped to take a hard punch than a guy with a skinny neck and a narrow or small head. He mentioned a few examples of fighters who have had that innate ability to take punches and that list included Jake LaMotta, Tex Cobb, and himself.
“And even Ali,” he added. “He took a pretty good rap, even though he’d been down a few times.”
Here is a little article on The re-opened 5th Street Gym:
Through a slumping economy and a rapidly changing boxing landscape, the owners have established 5th Street Gym as a landmark in its own right.
The secret, Baiamonte said, is in the spirit.
“A lot of gyms are so money-hungry, that all they care about is, ‘OK, this is what you have to pay, and that’s it,’ ’’ Baiamonte said. “Here, we won’t do that. Here, it’s just being friendly. That’s the one thing Angelo always did: He was friendly with everybody.”
Baiamonte is one of several “Dundee disciples,” a group of trainers who honed their craft under the late Angelo Dundee. A self-described gym rat, Baiamonte began working with Dundee in 2000, and in 2009 he decided he wanted to reopen the 5th Street Gym. As he looked into different options, he joined forces with the Chicago duo of Spencer — also a trainer — and Tsatas —a businessman and boxing enthusiast.
All that’s left of the original location is a plaque, and so Baiamonte, Spencer and Tsatas bought a space one block north, at 555 Washington Ave.
Now, the 5th Street Gym’s legacy is displayed on the walls of the new location with fight posters dating to Muhammad Ali’s storied 1964 upset victory over Sonny Liston. Baiamonte even brought in a window from the original gym and the sign that welcomed visitors from 5th Street.
Still, the owners know they’ve got to pave a legacy of their own.
“Don’t try to copy,” Dundee told the trio. “You’ve got to create.”
Today is a sad day as G Manifesto Hall of Fame Member, Angelo Dundee passed away.
It is no secret that I am a big advocate of the 5th Street Gym in Miami Beach. And I have had the pleasure of meeting Angelo Dundee on a few occasions, the first time when I was a young cub with my Father.
Angelo was always super cool. The last time I was at the 5th Street Gym, Matt Biamonte told me Angelo wasn’t feeling too well.
One of the things I most remember about Angelo Dundee was during the hype and build up of the Marvelous Marvin Hagler VS Sugar Ray Leonard fight when I was a kid. It was widely accepted that Hagler punched harder than Leonard.
But Dundee said, (I am paraphrasing here) “Leonard hits way harder than Hagler. Leornard has one punch knock out power. Hagler is more a fighter that needs to accumulate punches. He just isn’t going to get that kind of “accumulation” on my guy!”
Dundee was a true tough guy and a master of mental warfare.
They just don’t make them like Angelo any more.
One of Angelo Dundee final interviews (one of the best interviews on youtube, period)
There was no way Angelo Dundee was going to miss Muhammad Ali’s 70th birthday party.
The genial trainer got to see his old friend, and reminisce about good times. It was almost as if they were together in their prime again, and what a time that was.
Dundee died in his apartment in Tampa, Fla., Wednesday night at the age of 90, and with him a part of boxing died, too.
He was surrounded by his family, said his son, Jimmy, who said the visit with Ali in Louisville, Ky., meant everything to his Dad.
“It was the way he wanted to go,” the son said. “He did everything he wanted to do.”
Jimmy Dundee said his father was hospitalized for a blood clot last week and was briefly in a rehabilitation facility before returning to his apartment.
“He was coming along good yesterday and then he started to have breathing problems. My wife was with him at the time, thank God, and called and said he can’t breathe. We all got over there. All the grandkids were there. He didn’t want to go slowly,” the son said.
Dundee was the brilliant motivator who worked the corner for Ali in his greatest fights, willed Sugar Ray Leonard to victory in his biggest bout, and coached hundreds of young men in the art of a left jab and an overhand right.
More than that, he was a figure of integrity in a sport that often lacked it.
“To me, he was the greatest ambassador for boxing, the greatest goodwill ambassador in a sport where there’s so much animosity and enemies,” said Bruce Trampler, the longtime matchmaker who first went to work for Dundee in 1971. “The guy didn’t have an enemy in the world.”
How could he, when his favorite line was, “It doesn’t cost anything more to be nice.”
Dundee was best known for being in Ali’s corner for almost his entire career, urging him on in his first fight against Sonny Liston through the legendary fights with Joe Frazier and beyond. He was a cornerman, but he was much more, serving as a motivator for fighters not so great and for The Greatest.
Promoter Bob Arum said he had been planning to bring Dundee to Las Vegas for a Feb. 18 charity gala headlined by Ali.
“He was wonderful. He was the whole package,” Arum said. “Angelo was the greatest motivator of all time. No matter how bad things were, Angelo always put a positive spin on them. That’s what Ali loved so much about him.”
Arum credited Dundee with persuading Ali to continue in his third fight against Joe Frazier when Frazier was coming on strong in the “Thrilla in Manilla.” Without Dundee, Arum said, Ali may not have had the strength to come back and stop Frazier after the 14th round in what became an iconic fight.
Dundee also worked the corner for Leonard, famously shouting, “You’re blowing it, son. You’re blowing it” when Leonard fell behind in his 1981 fight with Tommy Hearns – a fight he would rally to win by knockout.
A master motivator and clever corner man, Dundee was regarded as one of the sport’s great ambassadors. He was inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 1992 after a career that spanned six decades, training 15 world champions, including Leonard, George Foreman, Carmen Basilio and Jose Napoles.
“He had a ball. He lived his life and had a great time,” Jimmy Dundee said. “He was still working with an amateur kid, a possible Olympic kid, down here. When he walked into a boxing room he still had the brain for it.”
Dundee will always be linked to Ali as one of the most successful fighter-trainer relationships in boxing history, helping Ali become the first to win the heavyweight title three times. The pair would travel around the world for fights to such obscure places as Ali’s October 1974 bout in Zaire against Foreman dubbed “The Rumble in the Jungle,” and Ali’s third fight against Frazier in the Philippines.
I just realized that this is The G Manifesto’s 1000th post.
And what better way to celebrate that milestone than with a classic fight between two G Manifesto Hall of Fame Members Arturo Gatti and Angel Manfredy?
If you have never seen this fight, watch it. You can learn a ton about boxing and heart.
I had the pleasure of meeting both these cats. Both of the were total class acts. (I also met Ivan Robinson around the same time, who waged two epic wars with Arturo Gatti and lost to Angel Manfredy. Also cool as f*ck.)
Make sure you watch Angel Manfredy’s post fight interview (starts about 2:40 of the last video posted).
For all the people that doubted me in my life, and tried to stop me, all I have to say to you is what Angel Manfredy had to say to all those that bet against him:
Bruce Lee rocks the pocket square perfect. Straight across. Matching with the tie can pretty dope, as witnessed here, but far from necessary.
Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra always rock the pocket squares on point. Smoking is a nice Style touch as well.
Las Vegas visionary and all around super G, Bugsy Siegel knows how to rock the square. I have mentioned before that I have the same “large houndstooth check” jacket. I had to have it Custom Made, of course.
James Bond always rocks the square right. Real subtle and dope.
Chain smoker, International Playboy and Boxing Champ Mickey Walker wears the square with ease. So does Doc Kerns.
Sean Connery shows you how to relax: pocket square, feet up and with a smoke.
Serge Gainsbourg can rock the square.
Hollywood Playboy Warren Beaty rocks the square while playing Bugsy Siegel. Good casting job.
Super G Robert Shaw rocks the power square. Presence. And I don’t mean that Led Zeppelin album either. Or maybe I do.
Hollywood tough guy Humphrey Bogart busts a decent square.
Marcello Mastroianni rocks the gun, the flower and the square. Watch La Dolce Vita.
Joe Frazier, the hard-hitting boxing heavyweight who handed the legendary Muhammad Ali his first defeat, died Monday, shortly after being diagnosed with liver cancer, his family said in a statement.
The former heavyweight champion, who was 67, became a legend in his own right and personified the gritty working-class style of his hard-knuckled hometown, Philadelphia — a fitting setting for the “Rocky” film series, starring Sylvester Stallone as hardscrabble boxer Rocky Balboa.
“You could hear him coming, snorting and grunting and puffing, like a steam engine climbing a steep grade,” Bill Lyon wrote in a Philadelphia Inquirer column about Frazier, nicknamed Smokin’ Joe.
“He was swarming and unrelenting, and he prided himself that he never took a backward step, and he reduced the Sweet Science to this brutal bit of elemental math: ‘I’ll let you hit me five times if you’ll let me hit you just once.'”
Frazier’s family issued a brief statement about his death.
“We The Family of … Smokin’ Joe Frazier, regret to inform you of his passing,” the statement said. “He transitioned from this life as ‘One of God’s Men,’ on the eve of November 7, 2011 at his home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.”
Muhammad Ali said in a statement that the “world has lost a great champion.”
Possibly the greatest of all, was Carlos Monzón. For the young up-and-coming G’s on the rise out there who don’t know their International Playboy history, Carlos Monzón was arguably the greatest middleweight Champion of all time, along with other G Manifesto Hall of Fame Members, Marvin Hagler and Sugar Ray Robinson.
Not suprisingly, Carlos Monzón was also a top notch International Playboy and traveled the world with Argentine and Italian models and actresses.
Let’s break down this G a little as there is a lot to learn from Carlos Monzón:
On Carlos Monzón’s Stamina and Training Habits:
Monzon’s stamina was probably his most impressive and illogical asset, since he was ever bit as proficient as Stanley Ketchel and Harry Greb at taking the rule book and throwing it out of the window. Ketchel invariably whiled away his leisure time by drinking and whoring out on the old Barbary Coast. Greb was a walking encyclopaedia on the best nightclubs and pool halls in any given town.
Monzon kept his body beautiful in trim by resting it horizontally against any passably attractive woman and by blow-torching his lungs with up to a hundred cigarettes a day. His nicotine intake would decrease by an impressive fifty a day when he got down to serious training, including a few smokes on the run to relieve the tedium of roadwork.
Author George Diaz Smith wrote of Carlos, “A guy like Ricardo Mayorga (another G Manifesto Hall of Fame Member) would be a novice compared to the likes of the iron lunged Monzon. Nobody could figure this out. For all of the years that I’d seen him, Monzon never gasped for air, tired or opened his mouth gagging for oxygen in any round.”
“There was an arrogance, even an insolence about Monzon. He carried himself like a winner. I was in the office of the promoter, Rodolfo Sabbatini in Rome with my wife of the time when Monzon strolled in, impeccable in a white suit, bronzed skin, smoking a cigarette, looking as if he had walked in off the set of a Federico Fellini film.
“He was a very cool looking guy and obviously a man absolutely full of confidence. He was one of those boxers who entered the ring as if he KNEW he was going to win, just a matter of how he did it.
“Although very good at long range, Monzon could bring up shorter punches. My memory tells me that he really hurt Jose Napoles with a right to the body in Paris. Although that fight was officially stopped because Napoles was cut, believe me, Angelo Dundee was glad to get his guy out of there because Jose was starting to get destroyed.”
When Monzon shocked the boxing world by winning the World Middleweight Title by knocking out Nino Benvenuti, people rubbed their heads and said, “Carlos Who?!” Fame and fortune were now his. His ego and temper grew. Even though he was married, he had countless romances on the side. Actress Suzanna Gimenez was seen with him. Monzon acted in eight Italian and French films, including starring in the movie, EL MACHO. He jet-setted with movie star Alain Delon. He kept winning and winning. He survived a gun shot to the shoulder from his wife; an accident they said.
He was accused of breaking a reporter’s jaw. He was friendly only with the elite of the elite. He had a soft spot for Bennie Briscoe and always greeted his arch-rival with a big smile and firm handshake. He retired undefeated over the last thirteen years of his career. In retirement boredom set in and so did his demons. Caught up in the party lifestyle, it came crashing down when he was convicted of killing his common-law-wife.
I like the fellow
who in the heat of battle
was able to plant our flag
in the toughest terrain.
Champion in his game,
confident in his ability, he saw the vultures grouping,
chased them with his hat
and seared them with his poncho.
If you go forward tenaciously
you’ll struggle through with your message,
even though your wagon gets stuck
and the cattle crush you. There’s nothing wrong with the man
who wears out his knife
defending his honor.
The coward hands it over to the police
without ever taking it out of its sheath.
Here’s to you, Carlos Monzon.
one hundred percent Santafesino.
the new world champion.
Strength, fists and heart.
From this old tree, for you a prize of honey
and a laurel wreath. From your tent a cry of victory,
a woman’s hand in yours,
and a carnation pinned to your lapel.