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Since it broke ground in 1989, the International Boxing Hall of Fame (IBHOF) in Canastota New York has become a safe haven for both fighters and boxing fans. Every June since its inception, Executive Director Ed Brophy and his team have created an atmosphere during its induction ceremony weekend that is rich in history and entertainment. The IBHOF promotes an uncommon camaraderie amongst all of its participants. Fighters, unlike any other athletes often show remarkable hands-on affection toward their fans – embraces, handshakes or long, cost-free autograph sessions. And the fans themselves, particularly at the IBHOF, revel in the company of their heroes and kindred spirits.
Beyond my excitement about the event and my passion for boxing, there was a dimension of quiet fulfillment in spending a weekend with my father and witnessing his enthusiasm for the sport I love up close. Quiet fulfillment because I happen to be a man who’s more comfortable with the written word than a verbal exchange. A failing perhaps, but I’m too old to change who I am now.
My father’s knowledge of old time fighters like Sugar Ray Robinson, Henry Armstrong, Paul Pender (who had recently passed away), and his respect for blue collar fighters like Arturo Gatti and Micky Ward enlivened our experience and relationship. Watching classic battles like Erik Morales vs. Marco Antonio Barrera or Diego Corrales vs. Jose Luis Castillo, together with a belly full of beer or being ringside for amateur tournaments in South Boston have become a perfect salve for a sometimes contentious father/son relationship. A high-five or a slap on the back can mean everything. Never was this more evident than on the day I spent tracking down fighters for autographs on the Hall of Fame grounds.
Afterwards we all retired to Graziano’s Restaurant, the favorite watering hole for fighters and fans located right across the street from the museum. Over beers and terrific pub food, I sat back and listened to my dad and three of his buddies tell stories about fighters or just reminisce about growing up together and then cut each other down with witty anecdotes my dad probably never wanted me to hear. But the stories were so funny, so warm and so recognizable that I realized, I could have hung out with his crew growing up. Many of his experiences mirrored my own. It was enlightening.
Then the fighters began to nonchalantly walk in, but in my eyes they were princes among men. Where else can you be sitting with a piece of hot, greasy pizza in your hand and a few too many beers under your belt and see Matthew Saad Muhammad walk in? Not only did he walk in but the former light heavyweight champ sat down with us and other people in the restaurant, smiling happily for the cameras and signing autographs. So classy was this ex-fighter, and so engaging his smile, that he posed for nearly a dozen photos with me; he didn’t mind a bit. [details]
Beyond my excitement about the event and my passion for boxing, there was a dimension of quiet fulfillment in spending a weekend with my father and witnessing his enthusiasm for the sport I love up close. Quiet fulfillment because I happen to be a man who’s more comfortable with the written word than a verbal exchange. A failing perhaps, but I’m too old to change who I am now.
My father’s knowledge of old time fighters like Sugar Ray Robinson, Henry Armstrong, Paul Pender (who had recently passed away), and his respect for blue collar fighters like Arturo Gatti and Micky Ward enlivened our experience and relationship. Watching classic battles like Erik Morales vs. Marco Antonio Barrera or Diego Corrales vs. Jose Luis Castillo, together with a belly full of beer or being ringside for amateur tournaments in South Boston have become a perfect salve for a sometimes contentious father/son relationship. A high-five or a slap on the back can mean everything. Never was this more evident than on the day I spent tracking down fighters for autographs on the Hall of Fame grounds.
Afterwards we all retired to Graziano’s Restaurant, the favorite watering hole for fighters and fans located right across the street from the museum. Over beers and terrific pub food, I sat back and listened to my dad and three of his buddies tell stories about fighters or just reminisce about growing up together and then cut each other down with witty anecdotes my dad probably never wanted me to hear. But the stories were so funny, so warm and so recognizable that I realized, I could have hung out with his crew growing up. Many of his experiences mirrored my own. It was enlightening.
Then the fighters began to nonchalantly walk in, but in my eyes they were princes among men. Where else can you be sitting with a piece of hot, greasy pizza in your hand and a few too many beers under your belt and see Matthew Saad Muhammad walk in? Not only did he walk in but the former light heavyweight champ sat down with us and other people in the restaurant, smiling happily for the cameras and signing autographs. So classy was this ex-fighter, and so engaging his smile, that he posed for nearly a dozen photos with me; he didn’t mind a bit. [details]
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