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FROM MY BOOK...
JOHNNY DUKE STORY...
My professional boxing debut was set for September 16, 1988 at the Hartford Civic Center and I was very excited about it as you can imagine. It was like a whole new world I was entering, joining the ranks of all the guys I watched on TV for so many years. Now I had something in common with the guys I looked up to: I was a professional boxer just like they were. If I had any apprehension at all it was about the fact that the game I was entering into was much different from the amateur boxing that I was now so accustomed to. See, amateur boxing is also a very dangerous sport and people can get knocked out and cut and punch drunk just like they can in the pros. The major difference between the two levels, though, was made very clear to me many times by Hartford's legendary old trainer, Johnny Duke. Duke is the type of guy that is, let's say, a no-nonsense individual. Very direct and to the point. Duke makes Mickey from the "ROCKY" movies look like Mister Rogers by comparison. A member of the National Golden Gloves Hall of Fame, Duke ran the Bellevue Square Boys Club in the Bellevue Square housing projects in Hartford for something like forty years. He has always been a real straight shooting type of old school Italian guy, the kind of guy that could use the "N" word in the cities toughest project without anyone even batting an eye. The type of guy that could swear more in one hour than most sailors could in a month. The type of guy who could have walked through the city during the race riots of the late 1960's and get from one end to the other without anyone even so much as raising their voice to him. The type of guy that would pull his truck over on a busy street and stop traffic so he could get out and pick up a discarded winter coat off the street and bring it back to "the square" and give it to someone that didn't have one.
So if there was anyone that would tell it to me straight (not that I even wanted to know) in regard to the reality of professional boxing it was Johnny Duke. When I was an amateur he used to tell me "You know what's going to happen when you turn pro? Now, as an amateur, when you get a little nick under your eye, the referee and your Mommy and your F****** coach come running and want to know if your OK. They say 'Is he OK? We better stop it so he doesn't get hurt. Let's get him a F*****' bandage.' But when your a pro and you get a big F****** gash under your eye you know what your opponents trainer tells him to do? He tells him to go out and bust your other F***** eye open for you, that's what!"
JOHNNY DUKE STORY...
My professional boxing debut was set for September 16, 1988 at the Hartford Civic Center and I was very excited about it as you can imagine. It was like a whole new world I was entering, joining the ranks of all the guys I watched on TV for so many years. Now I had something in common with the guys I looked up to: I was a professional boxer just like they were. If I had any apprehension at all it was about the fact that the game I was entering into was much different from the amateur boxing that I was now so accustomed to. See, amateur boxing is also a very dangerous sport and people can get knocked out and cut and punch drunk just like they can in the pros. The major difference between the two levels, though, was made very clear to me many times by Hartford's legendary old trainer, Johnny Duke. Duke is the type of guy that is, let's say, a no-nonsense individual. Very direct and to the point. Duke makes Mickey from the "ROCKY" movies look like Mister Rogers by comparison. A member of the National Golden Gloves Hall of Fame, Duke ran the Bellevue Square Boys Club in the Bellevue Square housing projects in Hartford for something like forty years. He has always been a real straight shooting type of old school Italian guy, the kind of guy that could use the "N" word in the cities toughest project without anyone even batting an eye. The type of guy that could swear more in one hour than most sailors could in a month. The type of guy who could have walked through the city during the race riots of the late 1960's and get from one end to the other without anyone even so much as raising their voice to him. The type of guy that would pull his truck over on a busy street and stop traffic so he could get out and pick up a discarded winter coat off the street and bring it back to "the square" and give it to someone that didn't have one.
So if there was anyone that would tell it to me straight (not that I even wanted to know) in regard to the reality of professional boxing it was Johnny Duke. When I was an amateur he used to tell me "You know what's going to happen when you turn pro? Now, as an amateur, when you get a little nick under your eye, the referee and your Mommy and your F****** coach come running and want to know if your OK. They say 'Is he OK? We better stop it so he doesn't get hurt. Let's get him a F*****' bandage.' But when your a pro and you get a big F****** gash under your eye you know what your opponents trainer tells him to do? He tells him to go out and bust your other F***** eye open for you, that's what!"
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