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By Lyle Fitzsimmons - Years ago, it was must-see TV.
During my initial period of intoxication with boxing – ages 10 to 18, or thereabout – I can vividly remember turning down all manner of social interaction to make sure I wouldn’t miss the weekly fight cards broadcast on a then-novel cable entity called ESPN.
Family going to a late dinner? Sorry, can’t make it.
Friends assembling a street hockey game? No can do, guys, find another goalie.
Pressing homework assignments past due? Oh well, guess I’ll take the zero.
Back then, my devotion to house fighters like Dio Colome, Robin Blake and Freddie Roach – yes, that Freddie Roach – and voices named Al Bernstein, Randy Gordon and Sal Marchiano was far stronger than anything short of breathing, eating and, well… you know.
If it was Thursday and there was a fight show, I was watching.
But the infatuation eventually gave way to the weight of jobs, girlfriends and college entrance exams, prompting a period of nearly two decades between stages where I’d consider myself a “regular” viewer of the four-letter network’s late-week offerings.
Oh sure, I’d catch the occasional Top Rank Boxing special or have an occasional living-room drive-by with its eventual progeny – Friday Night Fights – but it never got to a point where familiarity with Mssrs. Tessitore, Atlas and Kenny was anything close to what it had been a generation before. [Click Here To Read More]
During my initial period of intoxication with boxing – ages 10 to 18, or thereabout – I can vividly remember turning down all manner of social interaction to make sure I wouldn’t miss the weekly fight cards broadcast on a then-novel cable entity called ESPN.
Family going to a late dinner? Sorry, can’t make it.
Friends assembling a street hockey game? No can do, guys, find another goalie.
Pressing homework assignments past due? Oh well, guess I’ll take the zero.
Back then, my devotion to house fighters like Dio Colome, Robin Blake and Freddie Roach – yes, that Freddie Roach – and voices named Al Bernstein, Randy Gordon and Sal Marchiano was far stronger than anything short of breathing, eating and, well… you know.
If it was Thursday and there was a fight show, I was watching.
But the infatuation eventually gave way to the weight of jobs, girlfriends and college entrance exams, prompting a period of nearly two decades between stages where I’d consider myself a “regular” viewer of the four-letter network’s late-week offerings.
Oh sure, I’d catch the occasional Top Rank Boxing special or have an occasional living-room drive-by with its eventual progeny – Friday Night Fights – but it never got to a point where familiarity with Mssrs. Tessitore, Atlas and Kenny was anything close to what it had been a generation before. [Click Here To Read More]
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