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| GAMBLE |
Goodbye
Floyd Patterson
by Doug Gamble [speechwriter]
5/15/06 |
At
a time when the sports world is peppered with so many thugs
and jerks,
the loss of a positive role model hits particularly hard. The
death late last week of former world heavyweight champion Floyd
Patterson of Alzheimer’s disease at 71 deprives the world
of just such a role model, and me of a living hero.
Fascinated
by boxing and taught to box by my father at age five, I worshipped
Patterson growing up. The first time I ever saw my name in
print was when I wrote an angry letter to a sports columnist
who had criticized Patterson, and an excerpt was printed in
the paper. I still work out on a heavy punching bag when the
spirit moves me and aches and pains allow, and when I put on
the gloves I’m Floyd Patterson in my mind.
It was in
the 1950’s, back in the days of the Friday night fights
on TV, when I was first attracted to Patterson, as many were,
by his dizzying hand speed. His gloves moving so quickly they
were a blur, he would land five, six or seven punches in beautiful
combinations before many of his opponents could respond with
one.
Contributor
Doug Gamble
Doug
Gamble is a former writer for President Ronald Reagan
and resides in Carmel. [go to Gamble index] |
But what also captured my young heart were two other things
about Patterson -- his compelling life story and his humility.
One of 11 children,
he was a petty thief on the streets of Brooklyn until he was
sent away to reform school. Vowing to make
something of his life and attracted to boxing, he wandered into
the Gramercy Gym one day and met trainer and manager Cus D’Amato,
a man who would not only guide Patterson’s career but would
become a substitute father.
Under D’Amato’s
tutelage, Patterson won the New York Golden Gloves championship
and, in 1952, the Olympic gold
medal in Helsinki in the middleweight division. He turned pro
that same year, later moved up in weight class, and became at
21 in 1956 the youngest person ever to win the heavyweight championship.
But outside the ring
Patterson was quiet spoken and mild mannered. He was unfailingly
gracious and polite and never bragged about
his accomplishments, in contrast to so many “in your face” athletes
who chest-thump and preen. What a far cry from former heavyweight
champion Larry Holmes, for example, who once said that Rocky
Marciano – the only heavyweight to retire as champion undefeated – was
not fit to carry Holmes’ jock strap.
Even in a sport as gentile as golf, Tiger Woods, with his fist-pumping,
club throwing and swearing, could learn something from Patterson
about humility.
One of Patterson’s
darkest nights occurred in 1959 when he was knocked down seven
times in the third round in losing
his title to Swedish boxer Ingemar Johansson. His humiliation
was my pain. It was one of the few times, man or boy, that the
outcome of a sporting event made me weep.
Knowing there would be a rematch but too much of a nice guy
to work up sufficient resentment against his opponent on his
own, Patterson watched a film of his knockout over and over again
to help build up motivation. In 1961, in what is called one of
the greatest knockouts in boxing history, Patterson caught Johansson
with a vicious left hook in their second fight, becoming the
first boxer to ever re-capture the heavyweight title.
I have a video of that fight, and when I need to be reminded
that comebacks are possible no matter how bad things seem at
the time, I watch it for inspiration.
Patterson retired in 1972 with a record of 55 wins, including
40 by knockout, eight losses and one draw. Two of his losses
were to Muhammad Ali. Patterson later twice served as chairman
of the New York State Athletic Commission and counseled troubled
children.
My hero once said
something that can be applied to the life of a person or, in
these troubled times, to the life of a country. “They
said I was the fighter who got knocked down the most, but I also
got up the most.”
Patterson was not the greatest heavyweight champion. He might
have been better if he had been meaner, like Sonny Liston, or
if he had more confidence in himself, like Muhammad Ali. He was
a gentle soul, someone who, outside the ring, would never be
taken for a boxer.
But if not the greatest
champ, he was a great man. He epitomized the words “role model,” and I’m
sure the example he set influenced the lives of many from my
era. I wish we had
more like him. CRO
California-based
Doug Gamble contributed speech material to Presidents Reagan
and George H.W. Bush, writes occasional opinion columns
for the Orange County Register and is a senior contributor
to CaliforniaRepublic.org.
Copyright
2006 Doug Gamble
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