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Chicago Golden Gloves changing location. St. Andrews has great Boxing History.
St. Andrew's Says Goodbye to the Golden Gloves
November 23rd, 2010 3:14 pm CT
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After decades in the St. Andrew’s gym on Addison Street, the Chicago Golden Gloves is moving west to Gordon Tech. The old gym finds itself being crunched by a neighborhood that has been gentrified and now is aching for parking spaces.
Gordon Tech, just down the road on Addison is no spring chicken. It’s been there since 1952, but it has a parking lot in the adjoining city park.
Both facilities say that they will hold 3,000 fight fans, but that seems to be a stretch. What Gordon won’t be able to retain is the history of St. Andrew’s.
The bleachers may still creak when some overweight fight fan waddles up, but there will be no memory of fight nights when cigar smoke clogged the air. Tobacco infused haze fogging harsh lighting is now outlawed. Some will still wear fedoras and clutch the cups of beer sold by the father’s club. Fighters will still mingle will the audience before and after their bouts with fresh aspirations, exalted or wounded pride.
But, you will never be able to look around and remember one of the nights that Ernie Terrell sat in the bleachers. Big Ernie was the guy that Ali punished after he insisted on calling him “Clay”. No one mentioned the “what’s my name?” fight when they thrust programs at him for an autograph. Big Ernie had been there. Even in the cheap seats, long past his prime he commanded the respect.
Down by the ring Montell Griffin, fresh from a defeat by Roy Jones had been introduced. People cheered their home boy and all was forgiven.
A local singer was always found to exercise her melisma. Ring girls from some modeling school bravely paraded in their bathing suits, enduring the crude calls from the crowd. They were intent on pursuing their ‘careers’ while some in the audience had another ‘career’ in mind for them.
The priest used to say a benediction.
The smell of perspiration permeated even the odors of popcorn and hotdogs. The blood was ingrained on the gym floor.
That all can’t be transferred down the street or traded for a parking space.
Change always is on the next card. Tradition is always on the last.
Like the fighters, Gordon Tech will have to earn its stripes. It will happen. It always does.
St. Andrew's Says Goodbye to the Golden Gloves
November 23rd, 2010 3:14 pm CT
Do you like this story?
After decades in the St. Andrew’s gym on Addison Street, the Chicago Golden Gloves is moving west to Gordon Tech. The old gym finds itself being crunched by a neighborhood that has been gentrified and now is aching for parking spaces.
Gordon Tech, just down the road on Addison is no spring chicken. It’s been there since 1952, but it has a parking lot in the adjoining city park.
Both facilities say that they will hold 3,000 fight fans, but that seems to be a stretch. What Gordon won’t be able to retain is the history of St. Andrew’s.
The bleachers may still creak when some overweight fight fan waddles up, but there will be no memory of fight nights when cigar smoke clogged the air. Tobacco infused haze fogging harsh lighting is now outlawed. Some will still wear fedoras and clutch the cups of beer sold by the father’s club. Fighters will still mingle will the audience before and after their bouts with fresh aspirations, exalted or wounded pride.
But, you will never be able to look around and remember one of the nights that Ernie Terrell sat in the bleachers. Big Ernie was the guy that Ali punished after he insisted on calling him “Clay”. No one mentioned the “what’s my name?” fight when they thrust programs at him for an autograph. Big Ernie had been there. Even in the cheap seats, long past his prime he commanded the respect.
Down by the ring Montell Griffin, fresh from a defeat by Roy Jones had been introduced. People cheered their home boy and all was forgiven.
A local singer was always found to exercise her melisma. Ring girls from some modeling school bravely paraded in their bathing suits, enduring the crude calls from the crowd. They were intent on pursuing their ‘careers’ while some in the audience had another ‘career’ in mind for them.
The priest used to say a benediction.
The smell of perspiration permeated even the odors of popcorn and hotdogs. The blood was ingrained on the gym floor.
That all can’t be transferred down the street or traded for a parking space.
Change always is on the next card. Tradition is always on the last.
Like the fighters, Gordon Tech will have to earn its stripes. It will happen. It always does.
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