Chapter 3

We did celebrate this time, the knockout win over Delario wasn’t a chicken shit win like the one over Finley; it was significant. We all reacted differently. Dave was the picture of self-confidence, Curley was beside himself, Huffman seemed to feel it was his win, and I was cautious. Marie was the most interesting to me. Unable to watch the fight, but unwilling to stay away, she’d been allowed to sit and wait in an office belonging to the manager of the concession stand. After the fight she seemed happier that Dave hadn’t been hurt than that he’d won. I was now sure I’d misjudged her. Yes, Curley had used her for bait, but she hadn’t been a part of it; she really did care for my brother.

Two down and all that stood between Dave and his shot at the title was Jessie Munro, but he was one hell of an obstacle. If Delario had been where Dave was early in his career, on the rise, then Munro was where Dave had been in his best days, at the top of his game. A rated fighter, he’d beaten the champ once back before Wade had won the title. A victory here was not anything to be taken for granted.

There wasn’t much time for Dave to celebrate or rest on his laurels. Once again, the training was stepped up. Now they were arraigning for suitable sparring partners, not just guys who trained at the gym. One or two were guys who’d sparred for Munro in the past. The last two weeks before the fight Dave was going to a proper training camp in upstate New York. I don’t know where the money for all this was coming from and I guess I didn’t care. All I knew was it wasn’t coming from Dave or me, and Curley was too cheap to pop for this, beyond that I could only speculate and I chose not to.

I was less involved with his training this time. I still had a bar to run. Nick, my head bartender was doing a great job whenever I took off during all this, but still the business had to be attended to. If Dave got beaten, or even hurt in training, the whole deal would fall apart and we would be out in the cold. The bar had to be taken care of, I couldn’t risk losing it or business falling off. I was kind of glad about that in certain ways; after all I wasn’t really all that enthusiastic about this comeback stuff in the first place. I kept hoping Dave would call it off and quit as a winner.

There was another thing; there were a lot of questionable people involved with the sport. When I was younger that made it exciting, rubbing elbows with people from the underside of life, like something out of Damon Runyon, but by this time I saw things differently. I didn’t trust too many of them. There are good and honest people involved in the fight game, lots of them. But even those, after years of dealing with the shit heels, are usually bitter cynics; distrusting and misanthropic. In a situation like Dave’s you can’t even trust the sparring partners; one is always likely to try and go for a knockout in a routine sparring session hoping to make a name for himself or impress a potential manager.

“Hey look at me, the unknown who clocked the challenger,” it happens all the time.

My opinion of Curley Bannon has been made pretty clear, Huffman I didn’t like or trust, Marie I had unjustly dismissed as a part of the conspiracy. Now that I’d seen how they’d used her, well that just added to my distaste for the other two. I was glad to be playing less of a part in this whole thing; I really needed a break. Don’t misunderstand, I was still a part of it and still supported Dave all that I could, but I was able to get out long enough to get a well needed airing.

Business at the bar had picked up drastically, people were coming in hoping to meet the “Comeback Kid”. Of course they were usually disappointed since he was seldom at the bar anymore, only dropping in for an hour or two in the evenings. Eventually he did that even less and less, too many people trying to buy him drinks, which he thankfully refused, and wanted to keep him there late talking about boxing. He had no choice, he was in training and while he appreciated his fans, they were a major distraction.

Sports reporters were beginning to drop in or call, asking for interviews with Dave or even myself. Usually I gave them a lot of stock answers; yes this is for real, of course he stands a chance, we’re planning on going all the way, etc., etc., etc. It was everything I could come up with to stay noncommittal without insulting them. It always helps to have the press on your side. Then one night a blast from the past strolled into the bar; Bob Rhyerson.

Rhyerson was a sports reporter out of Chicago. He wrote a syndicated column, and he specialized in boxing. I knew him well from the old days. I think he was the first to call my brother the “uncrowned welterweight champ” after the first Rojas fight. If he wasn’t the first, he had jumped on it quick and popularized it. He was a good guy and we’d always gotten along, so when he came around to talk, I felt obligated to oblige him.

“Charlie, long time no see, how’ve you been?”

“Bobby Rhyerson, man, you’re a sight for sore eyes. I’m fine, how about you? How’s the world treating you?”

“Not very often, you know how it is. Can you spare me a few minutes to talk?”

“Yeah, I think it can be arraigned.” I jokingly gave him a confused look, “What ever could you want to talk about?”

“The price of beer,” he laughed, “what else?”

“Don’t worry about it, special price for old friends, on the house. Beer good, or do you want something else?” I gestured towards an empty table.

“Beer’s more than good, it’s great.”

I went over to the bar and drew him a stein, poured a ginger ale for myself, and told Nick to take over for a few minutes. Taking the drinks back to the table, I sat down.

“OK Bobby, exactly what do you want to know?”

“I’ve been wondering about whether this thing is a set up or the real thing. We can keep this sort of off the record if you like. Basically I wanted to find out for myself before I gave a public opinion.”

“Oh, it’s very real. The first fight against Finley was a push over, but Delario was legit. Munro and the possible title shot are definitely for real.”

“And do you think your brother can pull it off? Those are two pretty good boys and Dave’s no spring chicken.”

“Of course he can. Now what did you expect me to say? Something like, ‘It’s a long shot but if they underestimate him he could surprise them?’ That he can win if they take him for granted. No, I can’t say that, I’m not going to. Maybe some foolish talk about if he really gets lucky and they’re careless he could win. No, I’d never say anything like that.” But I had said it and Rhyerson knew it.

He knew it had been my way of giving him my opinion while maintaining deniability. He’d wanted my honest opinion and he’d gotten it. Make no mistake, I had said things the way I did for a reason; I knew Rhyerson could read between the lines.

“So, what if I said my opinion was similar to what you just said?”

“I’d say that’s your opinion, not mine. You’re entitled to it.”

“And if it turned up in my column, you wouldn’t be pissed?”

“No, as long as you didn’t quote me as a source. But, if I said it would irk me, would that stop you?”

“You know better than that. You always played straight with me in the past though, and I’ll play straight with you now. I figure it’s a long, long shot, but I just wanted to know if it was all on the up and up. You say it is, so as far as I’m concerned, it is. I thank you for that bit of honesty, and I will treat Dave fairly in my column.”

“Can’t ask for more than that, besides, some honesty may have some influence on the situation.” I decided to stop talking in vague terms, “Honestly, Bob, I don’t like the whole thing, but that’s off the record.”

“I got’cha, from here it’s between you and me, no problem. There was nothing you could do to stop it?”

“No, he’s a grown up, free to make his own decisions; I’m just trying to support him as best as I can.”

“Well, like I said, that will go no farther. What I really wanted to know was whether the fix was in or not. If it was I was going to ignore the whole thing, since it’s not I’ll call it like I see it. I have to thank you for being honest about it.”

“Well if it’s a fix, nobody has clued me or Dave in on it. Like you said, we always played it straight with each other, no need to change that.”

With that we sat for about an hour talking boxing in general. When he got up to leave he thanked me again. I thanked him also; it had been an opportunity to say out loud the things that had been running through my mind from the beginning.

The problem was his question, “There was nothing you could to stop it?” kept running through my mind. I had previously convinced myself there wasn’t, but Rhyerson’s words were beginning to haunt me. I began to wonder if I should have tried harder to talk Dave out of this. Then I remembered him telling me if I wasn’t on board with it I should leave. I could do that; perhaps my walking away might even give him some second thoughts. If I did and something went wrong, then at least I’d have a clear conscience. Or would I? No, if I did get out, I would feel like I abandoned him to the wolves, if I stayed I’d feel like I didn’t do enough to stop him. It was a no win situation. I decided to keep on going the way I was and hope for the best. Things would probably work themselves out.

My one attempt to stop this thing would a feeble one at best, but it was all I could come up with. One day when I stopped at the gym to see how things were going I ran into Marie. I thought that she might be his Achilles’ heel. If Curley had used her to lure Dave into this deal, I thought I could possibly use her to lure him out of it. It was worth a try. She was sitting in one of several folding chairs that were along the wall for spectators watching Dave in the ring sparring. I went over and sat down next to her.

“Hi, Marie, what’s up?”

“Hi, nothing special. I thought if I watched him practice, maybe I’d get to where I could actually watch him fight. I even get worried watching this though.”

“Hanging around with Curley, you must have seen fighters before, it’s one of his many businesses.”

“Sure, of course, but I just knew them as fighters; I didn’t get to know them as people. At least not the way I know Dave. Funny, the others were people too, but I just looked at them as fighters. I guess you shouldn’t just lump people together like that.” I winced slightly; after all, that’s what I’d done with her initially.

“You’re right there. So, how’s he looking?”

“I don’t know, all I see is guys hitting him. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t, perhaps you don’t even have to.”

“What do you mean?” She was looking at me quizzically.

“Did you ever tell him how you felt?”

“You mean try to talk him out of fighting?”

“Yeah, why not? If that’s the way you feel, let him know.”

“I couldn’t, that would upset him, this is what he wants, it’s all he talks about. I couldn’t try to stop him, it just wouldn’t be right.”

“But you’ve said yourself, you’re afraid. Don’t you think he should know that?”

“No, and please don’t tell him. I don’t want to deny him something he wants this bad. I think he deserves it, he’s earned it. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

She had me there. It’s funny how this girl with her simplistic view had summed it all up. Dave had a chance here at something he’d always wanted and neither of us had the heart to tell him not to take it. It didn’t matter that this was all a publicity ploy, a fat payday for Wade, or anything else; it was still a second chance for my brother.

When the time came for the move up to the training camp in the Catskills, I took a couple of days off to help him make the move. One of the problems of owning a station wagon is you always get stuck hauling the luggage, and once more this was no exception. It was a long drive and I was alone again with a load of suitcases. Halfway across Pennsylvania on the turnpike I wished I’d taken the bus. The ride was not only long, but now it was growing lonely, I was starting to feel like I was being taken advantage of. When I finally found the place, I saw Curley’s Caddie and pulled in behind it. I was willing to do anything that might inconvenience him.

After I unloaded, I took a walk around with Dave. It was a nice place, it looked like it had been a small farmette at one time, or maybe the remnants of a larger farm. At about five acres on a small side road, it was a large old farmhouse and a barn, which had been converted to a gym. There were several gallows like frames of iron pipe where heavy bags and speed bag platforms could be mounted for outdoor training in the summer. There was a long one story building behind the barn; the dormitory for fighters and sparring partners. It really was the epitome of what you’d think a training camp should look like.

I stood by the wagon looking around trying to figure out where I was supposed to go. That’s when Dave came out of the farmhouse dressed in a dark sweat suit. He looked like he was ready to start training then and there.

“Come on in, I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve got a room here in the big house.”