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Part 1
The ***els In Jerry’s Crown: Quarry at his very best
By Mike Casey - When you got past the marriage problems, the managerial changes and the hard luck circumstances, you came upon the greatest problem of all with the talented Jerry Quarry: his head. What went on in Jerry’s mind was always the major factor, the greatest frustration, the toughest opponent.
In his straight talking way, boxing’s eternal Comeback Kid from the Los Angeles suburb of Bellflower always acknowledged his biggest failing. After boxing with admirable prudence and restraint to score his greatest victory over the dangerous Ron Lyle in 1973, Quarry sat in his dressing room and jabbed a finger at the tough old melon atop his muscled shoulders and thick neck. “The big difference with me as a fighter now is right here,” he said..
Ah, but it wasn’t. Not really. And we probably wouldn’t have loved him half as much if it had been. Jerry’s volatility was the principal and oddly loveable reason for his magnetism. We kept tuning into the next episode because we had to see whether he would finally put the pieces together and cross the finishing line.
In the crucial fights of his career, Quarry belied his undoubted ring intelligence by employing the wrong tactics when his fierce pride gridlocked his fighting brain. He was the thoughtful counter puncher who chose to slug it out with the prime slugger of the age in Joe Frazier. He was too careful and too patient with smart cookie Jimmy Ellis.
But it was never as simple as that with Jerry. Aside from the strategic errors, there was ill fortune and the occasionally unfathomable. He was the victim of genuine bad luck in his first fight with Muhammad Ali and ambushed by the downright bizarre in his stunning loss to George Chuvalo.
Even on his winning nights, Jerry would sometimes look listless and distracted, as if his opponent was the least of his tormentors. Like poor old Jacob Marley in ‘A Christmas Carol’, one imagined Quarry dragging a great chain in his wake for his sins.
Colourful
Jerry Quarry was a colourful, good-looking Southern Californian of Irish descent, whose erratic ring form constantly bewildered his critics and even his most ardent fans. He would counter exasperating defeats with spectacular victories and send his supporters yo-yoing from joy to despair and back again.
He seemed to relish being written off, for that was when he produced his greatest performances. Praise and acceptance seemed to have the reverse effect, bringing out the negative side of his personality and shattering his ambitions at the most untimely moments.
From the beginning of his career, Quarry was hailed as a potentially great heavyweight, and on his better days he justified such praise by beating some of the finest men in the business. Again and again, he manoeuvred himself tantalisingly close to the world championship, only to stumble and fall in the crucial fights. He could win the pennant but he could never make it through the play-offs.
Such setbacks reminded us of the only real ***** in Quarry’s armour: the jumbled mind that all too frequently jammed the controls of an otherwise formidable fighting machine. That mind would only become unclogged when penetrated by harsh criticism or the implication that its owner didn’t have what it takes. Then Jerry would shake himself down and show the world his great talent.
Quarry’s failure to reach the pinnacle of his profession is an everlasting tribute to his incredible allure. He possessed that special charisma that the gods normally reserve for only a handful of champions. When a certain boxing publication conducted a popularity poll of past and present day fighters in the early seventies, Quarry’s name ranked alongside those of Jack Dempsey, Rocky Marciano and Muhammad Ali.
Jerry’s inconsistency could be infuriating, yet his chances against any man could never be discounted. His disciples kept the faith because Quarry always seemed on the verge of catching fire and realising his magnificent potential.
He had all the necessary physical attributes at his disposal. He looked every inch a fighter, a rock of a man with a thick chest, powerful shoulders and solid legs. He had a powerful punch and a good chin. He was tough and rugged, very much the All-American boy in his early days with his close cropped hair and crooked smile.
But the rain clouds always seemed to home in on Jerry. Inevitably, he inherited the ‘Great White Hope’ mantle, with which he felt genuinely uncomfortable. There was the hate mail from obsessive fans who expected too much. There was the family and in-laws who trailed along with him to all his fights.
The story goes that father Jack Quarry laced gloves on Jerry when his son was just five years of age. When other kids bullied him, Jerry would stand his ground and fight back. As an amateur, he once said, “I feel a great challenge every time I get into the ring. I feel that I am fighting for my life and I must win.”
Let us not forget that Jerry Quarry did win a lot of important fights too, mostly as the underdog. He won them in style and he won them thrillingly. The Bellflower Belter at his very best was something to see.
The ***els In Jerry’s Crown: Quarry at his very best
By Mike Casey - When you got past the marriage problems, the managerial changes and the hard luck circumstances, you came upon the greatest problem of all with the talented Jerry Quarry: his head. What went on in Jerry’s mind was always the major factor, the greatest frustration, the toughest opponent.
In his straight talking way, boxing’s eternal Comeback Kid from the Los Angeles suburb of Bellflower always acknowledged his biggest failing. After boxing with admirable prudence and restraint to score his greatest victory over the dangerous Ron Lyle in 1973, Quarry sat in his dressing room and jabbed a finger at the tough old melon atop his muscled shoulders and thick neck. “The big difference with me as a fighter now is right here,” he said..
Ah, but it wasn’t. Not really. And we probably wouldn’t have loved him half as much if it had been. Jerry’s volatility was the principal and oddly loveable reason for his magnetism. We kept tuning into the next episode because we had to see whether he would finally put the pieces together and cross the finishing line.
In the crucial fights of his career, Quarry belied his undoubted ring intelligence by employing the wrong tactics when his fierce pride gridlocked his fighting brain. He was the thoughtful counter puncher who chose to slug it out with the prime slugger of the age in Joe Frazier. He was too careful and too patient with smart cookie Jimmy Ellis.
But it was never as simple as that with Jerry. Aside from the strategic errors, there was ill fortune and the occasionally unfathomable. He was the victim of genuine bad luck in his first fight with Muhammad Ali and ambushed by the downright bizarre in his stunning loss to George Chuvalo.
Even on his winning nights, Jerry would sometimes look listless and distracted, as if his opponent was the least of his tormentors. Like poor old Jacob Marley in ‘A Christmas Carol’, one imagined Quarry dragging a great chain in his wake for his sins.
Colourful
Jerry Quarry was a colourful, good-looking Southern Californian of Irish descent, whose erratic ring form constantly bewildered his critics and even his most ardent fans. He would counter exasperating defeats with spectacular victories and send his supporters yo-yoing from joy to despair and back again.
He seemed to relish being written off, for that was when he produced his greatest performances. Praise and acceptance seemed to have the reverse effect, bringing out the negative side of his personality and shattering his ambitions at the most untimely moments.
From the beginning of his career, Quarry was hailed as a potentially great heavyweight, and on his better days he justified such praise by beating some of the finest men in the business. Again and again, he manoeuvred himself tantalisingly close to the world championship, only to stumble and fall in the crucial fights. He could win the pennant but he could never make it through the play-offs.
Such setbacks reminded us of the only real ***** in Quarry’s armour: the jumbled mind that all too frequently jammed the controls of an otherwise formidable fighting machine. That mind would only become unclogged when penetrated by harsh criticism or the implication that its owner didn’t have what it takes. Then Jerry would shake himself down and show the world his great talent.
Quarry’s failure to reach the pinnacle of his profession is an everlasting tribute to his incredible allure. He possessed that special charisma that the gods normally reserve for only a handful of champions. When a certain boxing publication conducted a popularity poll of past and present day fighters in the early seventies, Quarry’s name ranked alongside those of Jack Dempsey, Rocky Marciano and Muhammad Ali.
Jerry’s inconsistency could be infuriating, yet his chances against any man could never be discounted. His disciples kept the faith because Quarry always seemed on the verge of catching fire and realising his magnificent potential.
He had all the necessary physical attributes at his disposal. He looked every inch a fighter, a rock of a man with a thick chest, powerful shoulders and solid legs. He had a powerful punch and a good chin. He was tough and rugged, very much the All-American boy in his early days with his close cropped hair and crooked smile.
But the rain clouds always seemed to home in on Jerry. Inevitably, he inherited the ‘Great White Hope’ mantle, with which he felt genuinely uncomfortable. There was the hate mail from obsessive fans who expected too much. There was the family and in-laws who trailed along with him to all his fights.
The story goes that father Jack Quarry laced gloves on Jerry when his son was just five years of age. When other kids bullied him, Jerry would stand his ground and fight back. As an amateur, he once said, “I feel a great challenge every time I get into the ring. I feel that I am fighting for my life and I must win.”
Let us not forget that Jerry Quarry did win a lot of important fights too, mostly as the underdog. He won them in style and he won them thrillingly. The Bellflower Belter at his very best was something to see.
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