growing up in a boxing culture family, man I got stories. as a kid, I was taught to box, cuz dad was taught to box, cuz grandad was taught to box, cuz great grandad was taught to box... the hooks go back to ww1, at least. I was never 'technically educated' (didn't care much about that)to form a legit opinion on who is better - I just liked certain personalities and styles. a couple/tree boxing stories. first, the manassa mauler. in the 1930s, two kids get on a train in Bridgeport, meeting for the first time, to go to school in Chicago. one is George Gunther, who subsequently became the longest serving legislator in the history of Connecticut, and one of us. instant best pals for life. they get a job in a hydrotherapy, 'shvitz bath' kinda place. 1930s Chicago, Capone, the whole scene. one day, some suits drag a wasted guy into the spa. they say 'youse gotta fix him up. he has a dinner tonite and can't even talk now.' the two run him thru a series of showers, steam, massage, etc. Dempsey comes back to life. on the way out he says thanks, then gives each of them a gold $20 coin (like a bazillion dollars at that time). next? ali. hearing the story a million times about how they sat around the radio listening to cassius clock liston in maine, I was tuned into muhammed. spring 1991, we go to AC to see foreman v holyfield, the one where some knuckleheads threw firecrackers during the fight. fights over, the crowd slowly rolls out of the arena, people standing around talking. cuz says 'hold up, there's ali! I gotta go meet him.' freaking scene outta a movie. cuz walks up a grand flight of stairs with muhammed at the top. we're watching. he shakes his hand, says a word or two, and comes back down. were all excited 'what's he like? what's he like?' cuz says 'he's gone. ain't nothing there. fried green tomatos.' sad. great dude. iron mike, late 90s, I think. we've been AC people also since ww1. staying at the Claridge (the "Connecticut casino') I was allowed to bring a friend along for that trip. we go out for a stroll, and end up at Caesars. walking into the newpaper/notions store, my bud gets excited, and whispers 'there Tyson!' by himself, and just buying some stuff, I fly up on him to say hi (I always liked that guy, he really knew how to clock his opponent), and reach out to shake his hand. now mr Tyson is not tall, and seeing him one could wonder 'how is this guy so tough?' the way my bud tells the tale, my face turned color. standing a good half foot taller than him, my hand disappeared in his. whoa. 'sir, yes. sir! nice to meet you!' lol. having seen almost none of the big names fight, except for that holyfield/foreman one, I can't really say who is better, but as far as the 'show,' I always liked the power of foreman and tyson, the skill of louis and dempsey, and all things ali. I hear that holmes was a moose, too. what's a 'bayone bleeder?' lol. the folks lived a life where that 'golden gloves' thing in ny was something like religion. I only got to watch bowery boys movies to get a taste.
