Marciano with a
record of 49-0, was the only heavyweight champion to retire undefeated!!!!!!
A Mt. Rushmore for heavyweights would have
included Jack Dempsey, Joe Louis, Muhammad Ali and Rocky Marciano.
The son of an Italian immigrant shoe mill
worker, Marciano was born in 1923 in Brockton, Mass. Rocky was a standout
baseball and football player in high school, and got a very late start
in boxing at 23. On the way, when Marciano was 37-0, he took on his guiding
star, Joe Louis. Marciano starched Louis in the eighth, jumped for joy
at the fact that he had arrived and then, sensitive hard guy that he was,
went to his locker room and wept for Louis. A year later in 1952, Marciano
was in Philadelphia to challenge Jersey Joe Walcott for the title. A master
boxer, Jersey Joe took Marciano to school for 12 rounds but then in the
13th the Brockton Blockbuster separated Walcott from his senses.. Marciano
was getting cut to pieces by the crafty Ezzard Charles. Brown said that
Marciano's nose was cut so badly that it looked as though it might come
off. Rocky's corner was thinking about tossing in the towel when their
man told everyone to calm down because he was going to put Charles to bed
in the next round. Marciano kept his word. With no serious challengers
left and Rocky quit boxing in 1956 with a record of 49-0, the only heavyweight
champion to retire undefeated. Marciano died in a plane crash in 1969.
Rocky was the perfect icon for his times. The table of virtues for the
Cold War era included loyalty, simplicity, patriotism and a respect for
authority. Rocky was a paragon of all these virtues. Marciano was
one of those rare individuals about whom it seems no one has a bad word
to say. Even the fighters that he iced loved Marciano.
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MAN OF THE DAY, LORD OF THE RING Rocky
Marciano: The Rock of His Times, Russell Sullivan, University of Illinois
Press: 372 pp., $34.95 Los Angeles Times By Gordon Marino December 15 2002
Soren Kierkegaard wrote that the hero and poet exist in a symbiotic relationship.
Without the hero, the poet does not have a job, but without the poet, the
hero (pugilists included) slides into oblivion. Until the '80s, a Mt. Rushmore
for heavyweights would have included Jack Dempsey, Joe Louis, Muhammad
Ali and Rocky Marciano. But in the '90s, Marciano started slipping from
our short long-term memory. Enter his poet, Russell Sullivan. In his meticulously
researched "Rocky Marciano: The Rock of His Times," Sullivan reminds us
that the preternaturally powerful Marciano was one of the sweetest of the
sweet scientists to ever practice the art of bruising. The son of an immigrant
shoe mill worker, Marciano was born in 1923 in Brockton, Mass. Rocky was
a standout baseball and football player in high school, but, to the consternation
of his parents and coaches, he dropped out in his sophomore year. He was
drafted and went overseas in 1943. In the service he was cajoled into lacing
up the gloves and, clumsy as he was, it was clear that he had the right
hand of Thor. After his discharge from the service and a bumbled professional
baseball tryout in 1947, Marciano answered his calling as a boxer. Despite
his very late start in boxing at 23 and his two left feet, he won a couple
of amateur titles. Then, like something out of the "Rocky" movies, Marciano
called Al Weill in New York City. Weill, the chief boxing impresario of
his day, and his genial trainer Charley Goldman agreed to set up an audition
for the diminutive Marciano, who at 5 feet, 11 inches and 185 pounds would
have been a cruiserweight today. They put him in with a big seasoned heavyweight,
Wade Chancey. As Sullivan vividly recounts, there were chuckles as Rocky
launched wild haymakers and tripped over himself, but then he landed a
right hand and, as the chorus of his faithful New England fans would soon
learn to shout, it was "Timmmmmberrr!" Weill agreed to keep an eye on Rocky
but sent him back to the pugilistic minors in Providence, R.I. Marciano,
who may have had the best right hand in heavyweight history, a punch he
dubbed "Susie Q," continued to turn on the black lights for everyone he
faced. Weill and Goldman were sold, and from there they marched Marciano
straight to the title. On the way, when Marciano was 37-0, he took on his
guiding star, Joe Louis. Marciano starched Louis in the eighth, jumped
for joy at the fact that he had arrived and then, sensitive hard guy that
he was, went to his locker room and wept for Louis. A year later in 1952,
Marciano was in Philadelphia to challenge Jersey Joe Walcott for the title.
A master boxer, Jersey Joe took Marciano to school for 12 rounds but then
in the 13th the Brockton Blockbuster separated Walcott from his senses
with a cannon shot that should be in the Louvre of stylized violence. Freddie
Brown, the legendary cut man for Marciano, worked out of the gym where
I trained. I used to press him for stories. Once he told me about the night
Marciano was getting cut to pieces by the crafty Ezzard Charles. Brown
said that Marciano's nose was cut so badly that it looked as though it
might come off. Rocky's corner was thinking about tossing in the towel
when their man told everyone to calm down because he was going to put Charles
to bed in the next round. Marciano kept his word. I was eager to see whether
Sullivan would capture this moment in the net of his narrative. He did.
After dispensing with Charles and a few other contenders, there were no
serious challengers left and Rocky quit boxing in 1956 with a record of
49-0, the only heavyweight champion to retire undefeated. Marciano died
in a plane crash in 1969. Sullivan argues that Rocky was the perfect icon
for his times. The table of virtues for the Cold War era included loyalty,
simplicity, patriotism and a respect for authority. Rocky was a paragon
of all these virtues. Yet as Sullivan contends, Marciano was also more
complex than he seemed. Beneath the easygoing surface, he was driven by
a heavyweight ambition to walk out of the invisibility of poverty and become
somebody. Though he was famous for his obedience to his manager and trainers,
he resented that his acceptance of authority suggested to many that he
could not string together a combination of thoughts. Marciano was one of
those rare individuals about whom it seems no one has a bad word to say.
Even the fighters that he iced loved Marciano... While you would have to
have a taste for the sweet science to savor the delectable stories Sullivan
spins around Marciano's big fights, his book offers many illuminating glances
into the world around the ring. For a prime example, Sullivan explores
the subtext of race in the '50s by registering the views of the African
American press on Marciano (by and large, black writers applauded Marciano's
power but rooted for Walcott, Charles and Archie Moore). Like Roger Kahn's
magisterial history of the '20s ("A Flame of Pure Fire") as seen through
the discerning eye of someone studying the heavyweight champ Jack Dempsey,
Sullivan's book is not just a perfect paean to a pugilistic hero but also
to a history of mid-century America as glimpsed from the corner window
of what was then America's second most popular sport, professional boxing.
* >From 'Rocky Marciano' Thirty-five seconds into round six Marciano knocked
Layne out.... What happened next was stunning. Everything seemed to stop.
Then, after two or three seconds of suspended animation, with each fighter
remaining motionless, Layne began to sink to the canvas with delayed-action
effect, slowly at first and then much more rapidly. According to several
ringside observers, the falling Layne looked "like an elephant collapsing
from a rifle shot" or "a ship sinking into the sea." He dropped to the
canvas face forward in a hunched position. Once he hit the floor, he rolled
over to his side and curled up. He was out.
Gordon Marino, a former professional boxer,
is professor of philosophy and director of the Kierkegaard Library at St.
Olaf College, Northfield, Minn. * Man of the day, lord of the ring
http://www.latimes.com/features/printedition/books/la-bk-marino15dec15.story
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