The Last Time I Saw Mike Quarry

 

 Earlier this year I won 2nd place with this short story on a private boxing forum on Facebook.. The rule was it had to be a true boxing related story. Since the forum is private I won't mention the name without their permission. I enjoyed remembering and writing about it.

The Last Time I Saw Mike Quarry 

By Randy De La O

I first saw Mike Quarry in 1967, at the Olympic Auditorium. I was there with my father to see Mando Ramos fight. We sat ringside, a couple of rows back. A family started crowding the row in front of us. They took up several seats in the row. A teenage boy a few years older than me walked up, looked around and we caught eyes for a second. He smiled and sat down. “That's Mike Quarry” my father said.

I was at the Main Street Gym in Los Angeles , in mid 1976. talking with my trainer, Mel Epstein, getting ready to skip rope. I looked up as the doorway to the gym opened. It was Mike Quarry. He was impeccably dressed in a blue three piece suit. He had smile on his face and carried himself with an aura of confidence that told you he was a professional.

“You're sparring with Quarry”, Mel said, “He needs to work with someone smaller and fast. You okay with that?” A short while later I was ready to go. “Don't get nervous just because it's Quarry” and don't slug with him, you're just sparring”. “I'm not nervous Mel.”

There was probably a 25 or 30 pound difference between us. I was a welterweight, Mike a light heavyweight. Still, I did what I could. I was looking for that friendly smile but it wasn't there. It was a hard workout but I just kept moving forward and managed to land a few punches of my own.

Later, with a smile back on his face Mike walked up to me and said “Tomorrow?” “Sure. I'll be here!

The next day was more of the same. This time a friend came to watch. Mike was tough to spar with. I'm not complaining, it's just an observation. He was a professional. His job is to get in the best possible shape. I understood this. Boxing is a tough business. You're either up to the task or your not.

After sparring, Mike was back to his friendly self, smiles and all. They were sincere smiles too. That is a lesson I learned from Mike. Outside the ring; friendly, get along with people but inside the ring, in the gym or in the arena, take care of business.

On the way home that day my friend said to me. “Quarry kicked your ass but you never backed up, I'll give you that!” “Yeah, well......”

I went back for another day of sparring. Mike began to have fun with me – fun for him, not for me – he started throwing some hard shots,and showboating. He dropped his hands and did the Ali shuffle. I'm not going to lie. I was tired of feeling like a punching bag. When his hands dropped to the side and his feet began to shuffle I was a little irritated. When he thrust his chin toward me and chuckled I let go of a right hand. It landed flush. It caught Mike off guard and sent him to the ropes. He came back and jokingly wobbled but I knew, at the very least, I got his attention. It took me three days to land that punch.

Drying off in the locker room Mike said, “Randy, you gave me a harder workout than most of the light heavyweights that I spar with. I mean it, thanks!” Outside the ring it was hard not to like Mike.

Later that year we would meet again. This time at the Aladdin Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. It was October 30, 1976. Mike was fighting Tom Bethea that night. I was on the undercard .

Mel and I arrived the day before the fight. Mike was a popular fighter but in terms of big money fights and fan base, he was no Muhammad Ali or Roberto Duran but the fight was to be shown live on the Wide World of Sports, so there was a sense of excitement. Mel took me around to meet everyone. That's when I met Joey Giambra, Ken Norton, and Eddie Futch. Giambra was the referee for my fight that night. Norton was the announcer.

We saw Mike at the Blackjack table, and spoke with him a while. He was feeling good. He was his normal self, smiling and friendly.

The next morning we got up and went to the weigh-in. Mike and Tom Bethea were there. This was in the days when the weigh-in was the day of the fight.

I opened the show that night. I was a four round fighter taking on a ten round fighter, Eduardo Barba, in a six round fight. I was a substitute for a fighter who pulled out of the fight. I had two weeks notice. I gave Barba a good fight but lost the decision. Mike won his fight with Tom Bethea via a 10 round unanimous decision. Mike did good that night. Despite the loss I was happy to be a part of that night.

It would be eighteen years, 1993, before I would see Mike again. It was a benefit, in Azusa, California, for a local fighter, Johnny Chavez, from the La Puente area, who lost his eyesight after a fight. I was there with my son Andrew. There were some good fighters there that day, Frankie Baltazar Jr, Danny “Little Red” Lopez, Alberto Davila, Ruben Castillo, Ray Mancini and Mike Quarry.

I spoke with Mike for quite a while. I introduced my son Andrew to Mike and they shook hands. You could see Mike was damaged but he was in good spirits. That smile was still there. That made me smile. Mike was there with a friend whose name I can no longer recall. He took a photo of Mike, with my son and I, and mailed it to me some time later. That was the last time I saw Mike Quarry.

 
Mike Quarry  1951 - 2006
R,I,P.

Never Stop Trying.......

Whether it is in the boxing ring or in life, the shame is never in losing. Everyone loses at one time or another. It's a part of life. The shame comes from not trying, not giving it your best shot, at whatever it is you do. Don't be afraid to lose and if you do lose, don't whine about it either. Don't make excuses. it's okay to say :"Yeah, I lost but I'll get him next time!" We never forget the ones that never stopped trying, we forget the ones that stop trying. If you have to dig deep, then dig!

Just so you know, about 99.99% of that is directed at me but feel free to take it to heart too. Sometimes we need to give ourselves a pep talk because if we don't who will.

Butterflies and Canaries

By Randy De La O

I got a call from my trainer Mel Epstein telling me that the Main Street Gym would be closed for a couple of days and that I would be working out at Jake Shugrue's Seaside gym in Long Beach. I picked up Mel at mid morning and we headed to the gym. This was the first time I met Jake. Like most trainers of that time He was a little rough around the edge and Runyunesque in character.

I was told I would be sparring. I was feeling good and was anxious to get started. I warmed up and began my work out, keeping in mind that I would be sparring. I had only sparred once before. Mel called me over and told me I would be sparring in a few minutes. He laced up my gloves and in a few minutes I was standing in the ring. I watched as the guy I would be sparring with climbed into the ring. A black guy more or less my age, maybe a little younger. He looked lean and hard.

As the round started I began to box him. He was very quick. I did not have the sense yet to realize that we were sparring, not fighting. Mel was on the ring apron leaning on the ropes. I could hear him talking to me but I was focused on the guy in front of me. I was trying too hard. I was trying to make a fight of it. One round ended and another began.

I don't know where it came from but I heard a loud explosion. It seemed to come from far off. I felt confused. Next I heard a whooshing sound , whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, and I felt myself falling like a freshly cut tree. I landed hard and I remember thinking, “Did I faint?” Again I was confused. I got on my hands and knees slowly and looked up and there they were, yellow butterflies and canaries all around me, all I could see was yellow. I shook my head from side to side, still wondering what happened. As the butterflies and canaries began to clear Mel came into view. He had a smirk on his face and let out a little laugh and then it hit me. I was knocked down.

I should have kept my cool but I could not. I was furious. I jumped up and went at him with everything I had but I was too angry, too prideful. The round ended, I climbed through the ropes and Mel was wiping me down. The guy walked up to me with an extended hand and said “I'm sorry but it seemed like you wanted to fight”. That guy had a lot of class. I shook his hand and said, “That's okay, no problem” My pride was hurt and I had embarrassed myself. I was told later that it was a right hand. that caught me because I kept my left too low. I cannot remember the punch for the life of me, just my reaction. I don't remember his name, or if I ever knew it but I remember him.

I learned a few things that day. From that day on I kept my cool. It was a lesson in humility ( I would have more). I stopped thinking so highly of myself. It also made me sharper and more determined. I can't say I had much of a career but I can say that those things we learn at the gym and in the ring carry over into our lives. I raised my children on that belief. Boxing is a microcosm of life, you just have to look closely.

The Bum

The Bum

A Fictional Short Story

By Randy De La O


In the days leading up to the fight he heard the talk. “He won't make it to the second round” “He doesn't stand a chance, the bum”. “He has no heart” said another.

 Thirty-nine years of age, fifty-nine fights, losing half and stopped in most Still he fought on. It was all he knew. At the weigh in, he stepped on the scales. No more cheers for this tired old fighter. The crowd snickered and the press ignored him. His best days were a decade ago.

 Once, he was an up and comer but then came the losses, then the ridicule and then the moniker “Bum”. Now he fought only to survive. He stepped back from the scale. Watched as his opponent was weighed. Lean, sinewy and young. The crowd roared their approval. “You'll kill the bum, kid, he's got no heart”.

 It's the morning of the fight now, your wife and kids watching as you get your gear together. You look into their eyes and you see yourself as they see you, and you begin to believe again. “Maybe, you think to yourself, just maybe.”

 You are alone with your trainer in your dressing room. The days when your room was filled with the press, the boxing crowd, leeches and beautiful chaos is long gone. No one cares anymore. The world loves a winner.

 You can hear the roar of the crowd from your room. Another knockout. Another bum knocked into oblivion, and another up and coming fighter moving up the rankings.

You hear your name called. It's time to make the ring walk. You look at your cornerman and he says to you, “Just do your best son, just do your best. He's young and strong, don't get careless”. You smile and begin your walk.

 As you make the walk, you begin to hear the jeers and laughter. Someone throws a soda at you. You hear the laughter and your mind begins to think about your old trainer, long dead, who once said to you “What's he got that you ain't got? A head with a brain in it, two arms, two legs and two feet? What's he got you ain't got?” And again, you begin to believe.

 You step into the ring, you hear the boos and you wait. You pace up and down the ring. Something you haven't done in a while. You are suddenly anxious. Feels like old times maybe. You look at your trainer and he smiles.

 As the young opponent climbs into the ring the crowd roars it's approval and he prances around the ring. He looks at you and sneers and you think to yourself “What's he got that I ain't got?” You smile at him.

 The introductions are made and the first round begins. Almost immediately his jab is in your face. You can't avoid it. He's fast. He backs you up and the crowd goes wild. “I'm okay” you tell yourself. It continues like that for the rest of the round. Jab, jab, right hand and an occasional left hook to the body. “Predictable” you think to yourself.

 “Follow that jab” says the trainer, “Follow that jab! Don't just stand there!” You can hear him faintly but your mind begins to wander and you remember how you fought the best in your day. Didn't win them all "but you fought the best” and you begin to believe again.

 As the next round begins the kid throws two careless jabs and you follow them home with a right hand and a left hook and the kid goes down. He's never been down before, this kid, and panic sets in and he jumps up and goes crazy. You've been here before you remind yourself.

 You look across the ring as you sit in the stool. You see the concern in the opposite corner. “Okay, I got their attention”. You look at your trainer and his eyes are lit up for the first time in years and he nods at you.

That this has become a test for the young contender becomes obvious. He comes out for the next round back in control of himself. He has recovered. He's quick, this kid, and he can bang but still you ain't going to quit on yourself!

 Somewhere in the middle rounds a fight is taking place. For the first time in years you hear the crowd calling for you to win. You smile and remember how good it felt. For a brief moment you find yourself reaching back in time.

 No one expected this fight, not the press, not the crowd, not even yourself. Then you remember your family. They know you, they believe in you, they dared to expect it, and you fight on.

It's the late rounds now. One eye is closed, blood is pouring from your nose but you are unbowed. “I will not quit!” you say to yourself, not quite sure if you are thinking it or speaking out loud.

 You find yourself on the ropes, fatigue hurting you more than the punches. Your hands going down just for a second or two, and your young opponent takes full advantage, then you begin to punch.

 You remember your old trainer telling you years ago “When you find yourself on the ropes or in the corner and you don't know what else to do, just punch, just punch your way out!” and so you punch.

 It's the last round now. “Maybe I can knock him out” you think to yourself. You look him in the eye as the last round begins. This young, strong fighter shows something in his eyes that you didn't see earlier and you recognize it immediately. This young man has come to respect you!

 Still his job is to fight and win. Several times in the round you find yourself against the ropes, punching, swinging at anything but never, ever lying down.

 The bell signals the end of the final round. The crowd roars it's approval. You and your young opponent collapse onto each other, spent, tired and worn. You give each other a hug and you tell him “Great fight kid”, “Same to you old man” and you both walk back to your corners.

 You didn't win this fight, you know that and you never fought again. You were never a champion. You were once a contender. It was enough. You found a job, you lived your life with your family and you were content.

 Oh, to have been such a magnificent bum!

California Boxing Hall of Fame 2011 Videos

Te following videos are of Louie Burke accepting his Induction into California's Boxing Hall of Fame Saturday June 25, 2011, and of me accepting Fritzie Zivic's Posthumous Induction

Life’s Little Lessons

Rick, your story brought to mind something from years ago, so I hope you don't mind if I piggyback on your story …….

Life’s Little Lessons

By Randy De La O

Back in 1993 when I was taking my son Andrew to the Brooklyn Street Gym in Boyle Heights, a guy named Troy started coming around and working out. One of the guys there started training him. The trainer was not a real boxing person but was someone who had trained in the art of Ninjitsu, a Japanese form of Martial Arts but not just limited to fighting. Troy was a black belt in Karate, I can’t remember what style, so in some ways it was a match made in heaven.. Troy was about 25 years old, 6’ 6” and was a Fabio look alike. He looked more like body builder than a fighter., he looked to weigh about 230 or so, and solid. He was a very nice guy despite the fact that he was as vain as hell. Troy and my son hit it off really well.

After a few months of learning the basic fundamentals of boxing, shadowboxing, hitting the bags and getting in shape, the day came when he was going to spar for the first time. His sparring partner that day was to be an 17 year old amateur fighter. I don’t recall his name nor did I ever hear anything about him later. The guy was somewhat small for a heavyweight, not too much taller than me but he was built like a refrigerator. Troy was really fired up that day. He invited his older brother Tory to come and see him spar.

When Andrew was done working out that day we walked over to Siete Mares (A Mexican Fish Taco Joint) and as Andrew and I were eating Troy comes bursting through the door and says to my son and I “I’m sparring today”! “Really?” I said. After he gave the run down on who he going to spar with he held up his fist he said “I’m gonna to kick this guys ass and knock him out”! He started going on and on about what he was going to do. It was starting to get ridiculous. I mentioned that he was just sparring not fighting and he should just go in there and learn but it fell on deaf ears. Andrew took a shot at it too but Troy would not be denied this great victory.

When we were done eating we walked back to the gym and Troy introduced me to his brother Tory as he was putting on his gear. I never saw a more confident guy in my life. I really felt sorry for him. So did Andrew. He stepped into the ring and started bouncing around like Ali. The other kid climbs trough the rope and a crowd gathered around the ring. Big brother Tory was just as confident as Troy.

The bell sounded and Troy came out with everything he had and missed every punch he threw as the kid moved and jab and started to land almost every punch he threw. Troy was done in the first minute. He was staggering and reeling around the gym. He didn’t have a clue. It was a pathetic showing. He had no heart for fighting and he knew it at that very second. The look on his brothers face said it all. What made it worse for Troy was that almost every person in the gym was laughing as loud and as hard as they could. The fight crowd can be heartless sometimes.

Amazingly enough he came out for the second round. He was bloodied and beaten. He was knocked down or fell from exhaustion a few times but offered nothing in return. He looked like he wanted to cry. So did big brother. It was humiliating. I felt sorry for Troy but he made the choice and the other kid had no choice but to return fire.

They stopped it in the middle of the round and some drunk from the small crowd that had gathered, filled with liquid courage, jumped into the ring and shoved Troy. Demanding to fight him at that very moment. Troy just stood there with his head down. He was as ashamed of himself as anyone I have ever seen. He avoided eye contact with Andrew and I as he said goodbye and left the gym. He couldn’t get out fast enough. Like I said, I felt sorry for the guy.

Troy never came back to the gym and I never saw him again. There were several lessons to be learned that day. I hope he learned them.

A Personal Memory: October 30, 1976

By Randy De La O

It was thirty three years ago today that I had my second and last fight.

Mel Epstein called me two weeks before the fight which was scheduled for October 30, 1976. "Randy, I got a fight for you if you want it. It'll be at the Aladdin Hotel in Las Vegas and it's going to be televised on "The Wide World of Sports". "Yeah, I want it!" I said. "The problem" Mel said "is he's a ten round fighter. His opponent pulled out and Howie (Steindler) mentioned your name. It'll be a six round fight. You don't have to take it if you don't want to".

I began sparring with Felipe Torres for the next two weeks, I sparred with other boxers but I spent more time with Felipe than anyone else. It was a grueling two weeks. I was in shape but I only had two weeks to prepare for the fight and I wanted to be ready. I ran five miles everyday. I felt good by the time the fight neared.

We flew to Las Vegas via TWA. It was a short trip. We took a shuttle or a cab to the hotel. As soon as we entered the hotel it was a hub of activity. It seemed as if everyone from the fight game at that time was there. Eddie Futch, Ken Norton, Duane Bobick, Joey Giambra and of course Mike Quarry and Tom Bethea. There were many other fighters there but a lot of that day is a blur now. Mel knew everyone and introduced me to everyone. He introduced me to Joey Giambra and mentioned that he was going to be the referee for my fight. We had an early dinner and went up to our room to rest.

After a couple of hours we went down to weighin. Back then the weighins were done the day of the fight. It was crowded and there was a lot of activity. I weighed in at 152. I was supposed to weigh 147. The guy that weighed me, whoever he was, he said " Don't worry about it, Barba came in heavy too. I never did know what Barba weighed.

I was sent to a dressing room and it just happened to be the same room as Joey Giambra, the ref for the fight. He was a very nice guy. I liked him immediately. He felt the same way. Before he went out the door he said "I like you kid, good luck tonight".

Mel brought in some guy to help him with the corner. I can't remember who he was for the life of me. He was a tall, somewhat heavy black guy that Mel knew. I wish I knew his name. Whoever he was he was another nice guy. He wrapped my hands while Mel went over a few things. Mel could wrap hands well enough but he was generally too nervous and shaky.

Before I knew it I was making the walk to the ring. As I climbed onto the ring and went to my corner I saw Barba. he was staring directly at me. I wasn't sure what else to do so I stared back at him. What I remember most was his flat nose. His hair was long and Mel mentioned something about it to me.

This is how I remember the fight. The bell for the first round sounded and I had made up my mind I was going to box. I came forward and kept pumping my jab in his face. I knew he was more experienced but I wasn't worried. I felt confident. I was landing my right hand fairly easy. I was moving my head and kept coming forward. I felt like I was beating him to the punch. We exchanged several times and I felt like I got the best of him. I could hear Ken Norton in the background as he was announcing.

At about the end of the third round I started to tire but I sucked it up. In the fourth round things began to change. Not in a huge way but he seemed to be coming on. Still, I kept coming forward. My pride wouldn't let me do anything else. I wanted to win. I don't remember what round it was but it was during the last half of the fight when Barba landed a right hand to my solar plexus. It was like an explosion going off in my body. Suddenly it was like a bad nightmare. My body was racked in pain and everything in me said to lie down. I had no breath. I had nothing in me. Honest to God, I willed myself to keep standing. I was not going to be knocked out.

I looked at Barba and I realized he had no idea I was hurt. My plan was to move my nostrils slowly as if I was still breathing. I did my best to keep him from knowing. My face revealed nothing. Whenever he came forward I stuck my jab out. It was the jab that saved me. It bought me time to recover. It took the rest of the round to get my breath, and clarity back. I was still trying to win in the next round but there was moment when I was against the ropes when my arms were so tired that they hurt more than the punches. I thought "What the hell" and I dropped my hands for about two seconds rest. he got a couple of shots in but they didn't really bother me. What did bother me was hearing Ken Norton say "It looks like Randy De La O (he pronounced it Deelayo) is getting tired. I remember thinking "Shit, it shows.

Things were going pretty much his way going into the sixth and last round. I remember several exchanges and I still kept pressing him. I was still doing my damnedest to win. Now the last round might not have looked pretty but I decided I was going to knock him out. I went after him. My arms were tired but I threw everything I had. I landed some and so did he. I might be wrong and maybe someday I'll see some footage of the fight but I remember him against the ropes as I was doing everything I could to knock that SOB out. I couldn't and didn't.

When the fight was over and before the announcer announced the winner, Mel said, "go over and shake his hand. He won the fight". The guy that was working the corner with Mel came up to me and with some emotion in his voice said to me "You gotta lot of heart kid, a lot of heart." He shook his head as he said it. Later Howie Steindler, almost verbatim and in the same way said the same thing to me. I always wondered if it was because I got my ass kicked really bad or if i really did put up a great fight.

Now years later I wonder if I was just an opponent that was meant to fail. Maybe I surprised everyone by giving Barba a good fight.

On the flight back from Las Vegas, Mel and I were sitting quietly. I was disappointed that I didn't get the win. A man walked up to me and introduced himself to me as Alex Calderon, he was some exec with TWA, whose flight we were on. He said "Excuse me but weren't you one of the fighters that fought at the Aladdin?" I looked up, more embarrassed than anything else and said "Yes". He grabbed my hand and started to shake it with excitement. I was still confused because I had lost the fight. Suddenly he was no longer an executive for TWA but a fight fan. He told me what a great fight it was and that I had really fought a good fight. I didn't know what to say.

I was wearing sunglasses to hide my swollen left eye and just didn't want any attention but then he asked me for my autograph! I was shocked and to tell the truth I felt undeserving, I felt he was mistaking me for someone else. I looked at Mel and he said "Just sign it" he was smiling. So I signed it. Then Calderon says "Excuse me for one minute". Mel was laughing at my discomfort. The guy comes back with a wine bottle, with all the stewardess' and stands next to me. I was completely unprepared for what he did next.

He said to everyone on board, "Excuse me, Ladies and gentleman, can I have your attention please? I want to introduce you to Randy De La O, he just fought a great fight at the Aladdin Hotel this weekend" He went on for a while, I can't remember everything he said because it was pretty much a blur. He then presented me with a wine bottle with a notation on it the read: "To Randy De La O, Good luck in the fight game". from Alex Calderon. I just remember everyone clapping and Mel saying to me, still laughing "Stand up and thank the people". So I did. I thanked everyone. I can tell you after that the flight home was a lot easier to bear

Sometimes in life we have to take our victories as they come. I learned that day that win, lose or draw that I had the right stuff. I learned that I was capable of doing something that most men wouldn't do. It was just one ingredient in my life's learning process, there would be many, but it was a vital one and one that I am proud of. Sometimes a loss is a victory in disguise.