MANNY STEWARD has always studied form and that’s because he comes from a far-flung side of the sport where knowing all the details is the difference between a State champion and a running kid. crying in the trunk.
Years later, it was Manny who cooked and prepared the food in the suites of Atlantic City hotels as he was getting the same kids from Kronk’s amateur network ready. fight; same mentality, same details, just more money. The kids were fighting under the brighter lights, but he was still studying.
That’s part of what a coach does.
Last Friday, at York Hall, Martin Bowers met Chris Bourke at the conclusion of the first round; it wasn’t a good round for Bourke, his first in 11 months, and he never looked right. Bowers knew Bourke, liked Bourke, and went to the gym with him.
On Friday, Bowers stopped Bourke before he sat down, took a close look at him and said something in his ear. I guess it’s personal and I guess correctly at the time, Bowers wanted to know if Bourke was okay and ready to move on? From my seat, I’m not sure. Bowers wanted to know. He clearly had the answer he needed; Bourke won in the third round.
That’s part of what a coach does.
Martin Bowers and Chris Bourke
Angelo Dundee is a coach by coach in many ways. He’s an expert at hitting the right buttons at the right time and is a turning miracle in the 50 seconds he has made and broken careers in the dark.
It was Dundee in his best minute that caught Sugar Ray Leonard’s ears late in the twelfth round against Tommy Hearns in their first game. His guy, as sweet Ang would say, is letting the fight go. Dundee gave him a corner and that could backfire. Dundee yelled and slapped Leonard on the thigh: “You’re blowing it, son. Don’t fight at his pace, if you don’t keep up with yours, you’ll ruin it,” Sugar had lost all the cards. Sugar listened and stopped Hearns on round 14.
Leonard knows exactly what Dundee did that night and tells the story in style. “Then it came, the spark I needed, from the voice of Angelo Dundee. At about 8:30 p.m. on Wednesday, September 16, 1981, Angelo came to my rescue and I will always be grateful for that.”
That’s part of what a coach does.
Boxing coaches need to know their opponents, they need to know what questions to ask, they need to know what to say in their darkest moments and it’s very important that they know when to step in and save them. his martial artist. Not all of them, but the good ones.
One day in Manila, at the end of the greatest 14 rounds in history, Eddie Futch secured his place in boxing lore when he climbed over the rope to face Joe Frazier. It was the third and most barbaric battle between Frazier and Muhammad Ali. The greatest war.
The clock said Frazier had three minutes left to complete 15 rounds on his feet. Ali almost collapsed. Futch took a deep breath and took a long look at his boxer. Every second on the ticking clock – boxing history is being made and the world is watching.
Futch leaned down, his words locked between his lips and Frazier’s ears. It’s unforgettable. Ali won all three cards.
“I’ll stop it, Joe. The war is over.” That’s what Futch remembers saying. He also remembers that Frazier never complained. Frazier tried to stand in the corner, but Eddie tapped him on the shoulder. “Sit down. The war is over. This is the best thing to do.”
Futch, in the Hollywood version, can also say: “Sit down son. It’s done. No one can forget what you did here today. Those words are just amazing.
It stopped a few seconds before the bell of the final round. What drama, it’s hard to imagine.
The men in the corner are just human. Over the past few weekends, I’ve seen so many coaches in the ring that I would ban them because of their incompetence. In New York, during Amanda Serrano’s bout, there were a lot of dangerous idiots in charge of the boxers. Too much. We’ve also seen, over the last two or three years, so many pictures and movies of individual fights where so-called coaches have welcomed the side-smashing. Ask yourself, would you be happy leaving your child in the care of a man who always admires his boxer knocking someone down in the gym? you will?
In the British ring, I’ve seen men who don’t have enough experience control boxers in serious fights. They don’t have the knowledge of the ring or the guts to do what Ben Davison did last Saturday. They are also not knowledgeable enough to hire a cutter with the necessary skills and knowledge for the night.
Adam Booth, a decent man with a lifetime of boxing experience, was right about the dangers of being a brave boxer, but the dangers are greater than being a brave trainer. have a cold. It’s the truth.
As expected, there was criticism of Davison’s timing last Saturday, pointing out that the half had less than ten seconds left. I went back to Futch again. Everyone told him that Frazier had only three minutes left to live. Here’s what Eddie would say to them: “I’m not the timekeeper, I’m the man in charge of the warriors.” That is the simple truth.
Leigh Wood and Ben Davison (Mark Robinson Matchroom Boxing)
