Chapter 4

This time we really did celebrate, after all, Dave was on the brink of achieving his goal. The title he’d always dreamed of was now within his grasp. Not that it was a sure thing, Sam Wade was still wearing the belt, but now it looked like it really could happen. Now back in those days, the Junior Middleweight championship wasn’t considered one of the big ones, in fact a lot of fight fans couldn’t tell you who held that particular title, but it was still a championship. It got your name in the record books and it wasn’t anything to scoff at.

We had a party at the hotel. There were some people from Pittsburgh who’d come for the fight, and some locals who’d come just because it was a party. It didn’t matter, we were in that kind of mood; friend or scrounger, all were welcome. So far as I knew it was the first real break in training Dave had since this whole business started. He came over to me with Marie on his arm and a bottle of Schmidt’s in his hand.

“God damned beer, Charlie, you don’t know how good it tastes until you haven’t had it for a while. It’s great stuff.”

“That’s not the only thing that’s better if you haven’t had it in a while.”

I looked at Marie and saw she was blushing, I hoped I hadn’t insulted her. It was hard for me to think that I’d had such a low opinion of her a little over a month ago. Now I was worried that a slightly off colored innuendo may have embarrassed or offended her. It’s funny how your point of view can change. Back then I thought she was some tramp whose job was to manipulate my brother, now I thought of her as the best thing that could have happened to him.

When we got back home, we had another party at the bar. This one was for the locals, his hometown fans. It was one last chance for him to let off some steam before he went back into training, the Wade fight was only a month away. That was the one thing that kept bothering me; the schedule was too tight. By fight night he would have been in almost five months of continuous training with no real rest. That in itself was exhausting, but to go from being a barkeeper to a title contender in that short a time was ridiculous. But that’s the way Wade’s people had planned it.

Once again it crossed my mind that this would be a good time to call it quits, but I knew there would be no stopping him now and I can’t say I blame him. To have come this close and not try would probably have killed him. I had supported him right along and all I could do at this point was continue to do so. Besides, I was beginning to believe he would do it.

After all the celebrating and carrying on, it was time for Dave to go back into training. It would be the same as the last time; two weeks in town then two weeks in camp. The fight would be in Las Vegas and I would have preferred he train somewhere out there. That would give him a chance to acclimate to the locality. There was a world of difference between the desert climate and that of Pennsylvania or upstate New York. But then, you can’t have everything.

Every time he stopped at the bar he was mobbed by his local fans. The “Comeback Kid” was an even bigger celebrity than the “The Uncrowned Welterweight Champion” had been. Dave was riding a high tide of popularity and I was hoping he was enjoying it; I remembered how quickly that acclaim could fade.

Things were beginning to affect his training also. Well-wishers were dropping by the gym in numbers, all wanting to shake his hand or tell him they were rooting for him. Dave was never one to ignore his fans. There were two reasons for this; first, he had a genuine appreciation for them and second, he loved the attention. But it was getting bad enough that Curley, after a talk with Huffman, decided to send him to off to the training camp a week earlier than they’d originally planned.

“Just too God damned many distractions around here,” he announced. “We ain’t gettin’ any damned work done.”

For once I agreed with him. The press build up for the fight was in high gear and they were covering it from two angles. The story of a retired fighter staging a somewhat surprisingly successful comeback was the main point. People love underdogs, and when it looks like they might actually come out from under, they stand with him. The other point was uglier; he was being held up a small version of a Great White Hope. Racism was far from dead even in sports back then, and there were plenty around who were willing to exploit it. Both Curley and Wade’s people were willing to do anything to build up the box office receipts.

All I knew was getting Dave out of town was a good idea. Wade was not only a good fighter on top of his game, but was also defending his title. Guys don’t give their titles up easily, besides that, there’s another tradition in boxing, one that says the challenger has to take the title away from the champ. That means, quite simply, the judges tend to favor the title holder on the cards. You really have to out show him to win on a decision. It may not sound fair, and it probably isn’t, but it’s the way of it. Wade was going to be a tough nut to crack. Dave was going to have to concentrate on the job at hand.

We talked on the night before he went to camp. At first we just did the usual type of chatter one does in a situation like that. The good luck, catch you later sort of thing, but then he got serious. I could tell his nerves were beginning to get to him.

“I can’t believe that this is really going to happen, it’s what I’ve been wanting since the second Rojas fight. A second chance, man, it’s unbelievable.”

“Yeah,” I responded, “just don’t take anything for granted. Wade isn’t going to just lay back and let you walk away with his title. It’s not going to be easy.”

“I know, but I’m not going to make it easy for him. Win or lose, he’s going to know he was in a fight.”

“Just don’t get cocky, you can’t take Wade lightly.”

I know, I know,” he paused, like he was deep in thought. “Do me one favor, will you?”

“Name it.”

“Watch out for Marie, will you? She’s really scared, she tries not to show it, but she is.”

“Sure, you really didn’t have to ask. Tell her to see me if she needs anything.”

“Thanks Charlie, I really appreciate it. Now, I got to try to get some sleep, it’s a long ride up to camp tomorrow.”

He got up and went out, leaving me sitting there alone. It was all out of my hands now, there was no place left for me in this little endeavor. From now until fight night I would have no real contact with my brother and no influence. That last part bothered me, but as I said, I had gotten swept up in the whole thing; I was seeing more of the rewards, and less of the risks.

It was funny, the three weeks Dave was away went by fairly quickly. Being removed from it all had its advantages; I wasn’t as concerned about it on a day to day basis. It was like he was away safe and sound preparing for the fight, so there was nothing for me to worry about. I went about my business unperturbed. Huffman had actually done a good job so far, so there was no reason to think he wouldn’t continue to do so. Marie showed up once or twice to say hello, she didn’t seem too worried either. For once all seemed right, there was no need to sweat it out.

Two days before the fight, Marie and I flew out to Vegas to join Dave, Curley, and Huffman. They had gone out a couple of days earlier to get ready. Unlike in Philly, Marie and I were sharing a two bedroom suite on the same floor as Dave’s larger suite.

“OK,” Curley joked good naturedly, “no hanky-panky now, don’t make me sorry I teamed yous’ guys up.”

I remembered the time in Ohio and knew the last thing I was going to do was make a pass at Marie. It still bothered me that I had treated her so shabbily back then.

“Interest in this fight is amazin’,” Curley told me, “I never expected to be like this. It’s like people are lookin’ to see a race war in the ring.”

A race war in the ring; I was surprised he didn’t bill it as such. I didn’t know how much of the interest was race based and how much of it was the comeback story, all I can say is neither Wade nor my brother engaged in any form of race baiting. Wade was there to defend his title and Dave was there to claim it. They were two professionals and weren’t willing to crawl through the muck. But then again, they didn’t have to, there were plenty of others who were doing it for them.

This was the big time. I’d forgotten what it had been like; press coverage of the weigh in, interviews, the whole nine yards. Granted I was just on the periphery of it all, but it was still exciting none the less. The one thing I couldn’t forget however was that he’d been through this twice before. Two title fights, twice on the brink of fulfilling his dream and he’d come up short both times. I was haunted by the thought that history could repeat itself, but I seemed to be the only one who was. Everybody else seemed to be exuding confidence. I hoped they were right.

So there I was, the only pessimist in the crowd. While I couldn’t shake the memories of the two Rojas fights, I also couldn’t help but think of what it would be like if Dave won. I guess there’s something in our makeup that causes us to dismiss doubt and cling to the hope of the unlikely happening. Despite my misgivings, there was some thread of thought in my head that was sure he could win. Marie, of all people, was the one who noticed my mood.

“What’s the matter, Charlie? You don’t seem to be yourself. Is there something wrong?”

“No, I guess not, I’m just thinking about tomorrow night. I’m just getting a little anxious about it, pre-fight jitters.”

“Don’t you think he’s going to win?”

“Well, I think he can win, but that doesn’t mean he will win. I just don’t want to get my hopes up too high. I’ve been through this before and been disappointed; you know, once burned twice shy.”

“You shouldn’t let the past bother you. This is a whole new situation, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is. I think it’s the all or nothing aspect of it that’s bothering me. It’s like your birthday when you were a kid. You look forward to it, you can’t wait, then it comes and it’s over. If you didn’t get what you wanted, too bad.”

“What a strange thought that is.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’m prone to strange thoughts. It’s kind of like my job to think of this shit.”

I let it go at that. There would have been no point in my pointing out the possibility of a bad decision, like in the first Rojas fight, or him getting the holy hell beaten out of him, like in the rematch. That first night in the bar, Curley had said Wade wasn’t that good, he was wrong, as Curley often was. What he should have said was Wade wasn’t that exciting, he wasn’t a big box office draw, but he was good. But Marie, who’d been scared through all three previous fights and saw Dave win, now believed Wade wasn’t that good, that this was going to be a cake walk. I saw no reason to tell her otherwise.

If all this sounds confusing, that’s because it was. My thoughts and emotions were all jumbled up at the time. My opinions were changing minute by minute. Even after all these years I can’t clearly describe how I felt, I can just say I was taking nothing for granted.

The official weigh-in was early, both made the weight easily, there was no real drama or contrived shenanigans; it was all simple and professional. They shook hands, each answered a few simple questions for the sports reporters, then left. The afternoon before the fight was nerve wracking, it was like the die had been cast, there was nothing to do but wait. It was too late to adjust strategy or anything like that. We had to be sure Dave stayed rested and relaxed, so we really couldn’t even talk about the fight except in the most general terms.

Everything becomes important on the day of a big fight. Ordinarily simple things like what and when to eat take on new importance. The thing is you want your guy to eat a good hardy meal to be sure he has plenty of fuel for the night’s work, but you don’t want him to overeat. You have to allow time for it to digest and for his stomach to settle. There’s actually an art to it. In Dave’s case a steak and baked potato with a salad were followed by a walk. I don’t know where they walked, Huffman and Marie drove off with him, whether they went downtown or out to the desert, I hadn’t a clue.

I had the luxury of going down to the hotel bar and having a couple of beers, a juicy burger, and a mess of French fries. I almost felt guilty; almost but not quite. Later, when I went up to his suite, I found they’d returned and Dave had gone to bed to take a nap. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. I sat down in a chair to watch the television and dozed off myself; sleeping off the effects of the beer.

You often hear the phrase “there was electricity in the air” but you probably never know what it really means unless you been close to a big event. The excitement it generates can literally be felt. I don’t just mean at title fights; the World Series, the Super Bowl, the Olympics. Actually, I don’t even mean just in sports, politicians probably feel it on election night, actors and actresses on opening night, or anybody else who’s faced a make or break moment in their lives. And I don’t just mean the main participants, I could feel it and I was just a glorified towel boy, still I was part of the crew.

One of the good things about a big fight is they have a set starting time. No rushing at the last moment to get out there because there had been couple of early knockouts on the undercard. We could time it so Dave would be ready at ten o’clock. He didn’t have to be sitting around all suited up waiting for the call to go out while trying to burn off tension and nervous energy. Don’t get me wrong, the tension was still there, but we could lose some of it in the last minute preparations.

Following him out to the ring was exciting in its own right. The applause was overwhelming, people at a title fight may have their favorites, but they’re there to see a title fight. They tend to cheer on both fighters equally when they appear. They may be rooting for one or another, but the fight itself is the main thing. It tends to be overwhelming. To be a part of it is something too, even walking down with the entourage you feel special, somehow an important piece of it all, even if you know you’re not. Beyond that, I don’t really know how to describe it other than it’s exhilarating.

Once it the ring, Dave acknowledged the crowd then did his usual routine of checking the tension of the ropes, getting a feel for the footing on the canvas, and just moving around in general. He did his best to ignore the outburst of applause when Wade came down the aisle. When Wade stepped into the ring, he also began checking its condition. The two men began moving about, seemingly oblivious of each other. Nothing could be further from the truth; however, both were acutely aware of the other’s presence and every move they made.

There was a pageantry to title fights; any former champions or boxing luminaries who were present were called up into the ring and introduced. There were usually no shortages of them, many ex-pugs wound up working in Vegas, glad handing customers at the casinos, driving cabs, or opening doors. Some just hung out there with the “sporting crowd” remembering the glory days when they had hangers-on of their own. It was a kind of sad commentary on the sport.

One by one these boxing luminaries were brought up to the ring. Some were well known, some less so, some I’d never heard of. When the unknowns were announced, I’d look over at Huffman quizzically; he’d usually shrug his shoulders and shake his head. He hadn’t a clue either. It didn’t matter though, all were welcome; they’d take there bows, go to each corner and shake hands with everyone there. Some looked like they didn’t know who Wade or Dave were either, so it all balanced out I guess.

When they made the official introductions and the crown erupted, cheering for both fighters in their turn, something funny happens. While I’ve always maintained boxing is an individual sport, when you’re in the corner at a time like that you really feel like you’re a part of a team; that they’re not just cheering your guy, they’re cheering everybody associated with him including you. It’s a wild sensation. Perhaps that’s the reason why guys like Curley are attracted to a sport that they don’t really understand.

The first round was kind of slow. Both Wade and Dave came out warily, each cautious, watching in case the other decided to come out swinging, hoping to catch his opponent by surprise. Neither did, it’s something that will occasionally happen but seldom does. With so much on the line guys seldom want to make a mistake early or expend energy that they’ll need in later rounds. But one thing must be understood about boxing, you have to expect the unexpected; it’s all a part of the “protect yourself at all times” dictum. You also want to wait for the other guy to make a mistake be ready to take advantage of it.

Neither tried any grandstanding, they both jabbed, maneuvered, and probed in an effort to see what the other was bringing to the match. Each wanted to see how the other was going to react, both willing to wait for the first good opening. Actually, the first three rounds went that way, pretty much even, but we had to assume the judges would give the rounds to the champion. Between the third and fourth rounds Huffman told Dave it was time to play it more aggressively; take the fight to Wade, try and force an opening and take a shot. I agreed, just hoping Dave didn’t take it too far and get reckless.

In the fourth, he began using a trick he’d use a lot in the past. He’d periodically drop into a low crouch and throw a long lunging left to Wade’s mid-section. There was no follow through, but due to the quickness he did it and his low angle, it was difficult to counter him. It was a seemingly ineffective maneuver, more of a nuisance than a threat. Every time he did it, however, he was watching Wade’s reaction watched as his guard came down slightly. The third time he did it, the left was more of a feign, as he threw a right hook without looking to where he knew Wade’s head would be. He connected solidly, Wade staggered back and his guard came down. Dave stepped forward throwing a series of hard punches, unfortunately he’d gotten too excited and threw them wildly, landing only glancing blows. Wade managed to turn his backwards stagger into a back pedal, escaping Dave’s volley, hurt but not done. He went desperately on the defensive and managed to last out the round. Dave had won the round, but had lost an opportunity to win it all then and there.

The fifth and sixth rounds were more active, both trying to get the upper hand. Wade was attempting to make up for lost ground, while Dave wanted to repeat what had happened in the fourth. The problem was, in doing so my brother was getting careless; he was making too many small mistakes, getting sloppy. He was in dangerous territory. I understood how his mind worked and knew what was going on. After landing that Sunday punch in the fourth, he’d gotten overly confident thinking he could easily repeat it. When Wade avoided every other attempt, he started to get frustrated and was now determined to land another potential knockdown punch. With each failure he was getting frantic. I grabbed Huffman by the shoulder and yelled in his ear to be heard over the crowd.

“Tell him to settle down, God damn it. He’s trying to end this thing with one punch, it won’t work, Wade won’t let it.”

Huffman nodded his head in agreement without taking his eyes off the fight. Then he raised his hand up and gestured me away. I wasn’t sure if he’d paid any attention to me at all. I could only hope he had and at the end of the round he would repeat what I’d said to Dave. I’ll never know, Wade had opened a slight cut above Dave’s right eye and taking care of it was the priority between rounds. There was no room in the corner for me, I had to stay out of the way.

The cut wasn’t bad, it was small and not directly over the eye, more towards the end of his eyebrow, but it changed things dramatically. It had to be protected, if Wade could work on it and open it up further, it could become a major problem. This made Dave even more desperate, more determined to end it as quickly as he could. One moment he was busy protecting the eye, then he’d make a wild charge swinging hard going for the kill. Unfortunately he seemed to have given up all attempts at strategy, no bobbing or weaving, simply advancing and throwing punches. Most of them were ineffective, Wade easily slipped away but managed to get in some good shots at Dave’s eye.; blood was starting to flow.