In terms of the so-called civilized world we may pretend to live in, when it comes to sports, no existence, to my mind, can come close to that of the journeyman boxer. These brave souls, who have been doing what they do for decades, often face a far superior fighter, superior in terms of not only skill but in terms of time afforded them when it comes to training for the fight and in terms of the splendid facilities open to them in which to do so, and as far as having a trusted coach who teaches, guides and genuinely looks after them.
And the “J-Men” of the sport almost always go into the fight at short notice; this is when the other guy, the A-side, has had the benefit of knowing who he is going to fight for a much longer period of time.
And around 95 percent of the time, the favored, looked-after boxer wins the bout. Sure, the journeyman often hangs around, giving the star, be it an upcoming talent or a former champ who is in need of a tune-up, some darn good work. But the pay sucks, the call for the next fight will likely be soon coming, and the loser almost always goes home alone. Also, the pay almost always sucks. Yeah, that’s a repeat.
Some rare, special times, the journeyman, or if you prefer, the spit-on underdog, actually rips up the script and gets the win (one writer wrote a whole book on this beautiful subject: ‘Rocky Lives,’ by David E. Finger). And it sure can be immensely satisfying if the off-the-board outsider wins by a knockout.
But what makes a fighter, often talented aside from tough, become a journeyman? I guess nobody can answer this, very possibly dumb question. Oftentimes in life, we don’t get that much say as far as where our life, our destiny, is going to go. Some fighters lose and lose again and then again, and they find themselves becoming “J-Men.” Other times, fighters, sensible, intelligent people most of the time, and almost always likable folks know they will never “reach the heights,” but they want to try and box and see how they go. And they end up addicted to what heavyweight great Lennox Lewis once said is the most addictive sport there is. As the years roll by, the losses mount up, but the exit door from this existence is, for a number of reasons, never an easy thing to pass through.
Then there are the former champions or fighters who came close to being a champion, who quite simply have no notion whatsoever when it comes to what else they can do with their lives but fight and into a journeyman – or into a trial horse – they morph. And we really have seen some great journeymen over the years, as well as some tragic journeymen. But mostly, it’s forgotten journeyman. After finally hanging up the gloves, sometimes whilst carrying heavy penalties such as blindness, the ever-advancing fog of forgetfulness, damaged hands, and perhaps worse, these braver than brave warriors (*warrior: a person engaged or experienced in warfare, a person engaged in some struggle or conflict) leave the sport.
Again, most are never remembered, while some do manage to get at least a little of the respect they ever so clearly deserve.
Look at people like Jerry Jones (blind in one eye, spent years as a homeless person), Everett “Bigfoot” Martin (who passed away a couple of years ago, with scarcely a written word paid in tribute), James “Quick” Tillis (who was once looked at as a new Muhammad Ali, and even had the same trainer, now almost unintelligible when he speaks)……and this is just the heavyweight journeymen.
We should never forget when we see a scorching star of a fighter being celebrated (and rightly so; ALL fighters deserve nothing but ultimate respect), how there are many, many other living relics (for want of a better word) who are not doing even a quarter as well. There are some happy stories of amazing journeymen boxers who made it out with their faculties intact and some decent money saved. Look, for a good example, at British journeyman Peter Buckley. Dubbed the “King of the Journeymen,” Buckley fought a mind-boggling 300 pro bouts, with him exiting the ring with a 32-256-12(8) ledger. Buckley, stopped just ten times, is reportedly in good health today at age 55.
But most of the time, we read about the tough times the braver-than-brave journeymen encounter, both in the ring and after having left it; that’s if we read about them if we remember them at all.
The aforementioned Jones, who managed wins over Carl Williams and Michael Bentt during his 9-11(5) pro career, lost his sight in one eye and spent years living on the streets of Washington, DC, and Maryland. Jerry, now 64, has developed memory issues.
“I have notes stuck to my door to remind me to turn off the stove,” Jerry told me this year. “I have to make sure I have my keys and my I.D on me when I go out.”
Another heavyweight who fought in the 1990s is Dave Jaco. Jaco went in with stars like Mike Tyson, George Foreman, and Tommy Morrison. Today, he laments that he never made any really good money, and his speech sadly indicates that he is struggling in another way.
“I would get the right manager [if I could go back and do it all over],” Jaco told me a couple of years back. “I should have made millions! I’ve written my book and my autobiography, and all the stories of my career are in there. And there are some great pictures.”
Jaco, who spent too many years in the ring than he cares to remember, admits his career began an inevitable tailspin that sent him to “Palookaville.” Jaco is still smiling today, and he could even be referred to as one of the lucky ones. Jaco’s final numbers read 24-25-1(19)
Jack O’Halloran found real success out of the ring. Hanging up his gloves after having fought numerous big names and compiling a 34-21-2(17) record, Jack soon went into the movies, with his greatest fame coming when he portrayed the deaf and dumb baddie, ‘Non,’ in two of the ‘Superman’ films. O’Halloran knows about being given the shaft when boxing in the other guy’s backyard.
“It was tough being the away fighter,” Jack told me a couple of years ago, O’Halloran being far too proud to refer to himself as a journeyman. “I fought [Joe] Bugner in London (in April of 1965), and I beat the crap out of him! But I lost – by a quarter of a point! The newspapers the next day were ashamed to write how he had beaten me by just a quarter of a point. They cut the fight from 10 rounds to eight, right there on the night, as I had him out on his feet at the end of the eighth round. You couldn’t make this s**t up.”
O’Halloran, who is in good health today at age 81, is convinced he also deserved the decision when he fought Ken Norton in March 1972 in Kenny’s hometown of San Diego.
Bobby Quarry is another game fighter who gave it his best shot in the ring yet was to find himself working as a journeyman. The lesser-known Quarry brother, Bobby, saw what the fight game did to his siblings, Jerry and Mike, especially the former. Bobby says he got out of the sport far less damaged than his two famous brothers managed to do. That said, it has been reported that the 62-year-old was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease a few years back.
“I really believe that my brothers, the way they ended up and passed away (Jerry in January of 1999, aged just 53, Mike in June of 2006, aged 55), from too many hard and long fights, it is in the DNA,” Bobby told me quite recently. “But I’m so lucky in that I never suffered a brain injury the way Jerry did. He would speak to me, saying he loved his little brother, and then, just 30 minutes later, he’d forget he’d said it to me, and he’d say it again. I know he wouldn’t have wanted to live like that. In the end, really, he was better off dead.”
Bobby, during his relatively short ring career, scored a devastating knockout over Dave Kilgour, but he was on the receiving end when he fought Tommy Morrison. Quarry was knocked flat and laid out on his back for some time when he fought Morrison in his biggest fight in 1992. There was real concern at ringside that night, but thankfully, Bobby regained his senses after being pole-axed in the second round. Quite amazingly, Bobby did fight on, his final numbers being 10-12-2(7).
These are the dangers all journeymen fighters face: short notice for fights, thrown in with monster punchers, often paid poorly, used and abused by the promoters, given little to no respect by the majority of the fans, and again, all but forgotten when they walk away from the game.
So, whenever you see a journeyman enter the ring today, one who either fell into the role quite early in his career or one who later took on the job, remember that we must never forget to afford them, as Lennox Lewis might say, ’nuff respect.
Some notable pro numbers compiled by some of the sport’s journeymen:
Everett “Bigfoot” Martin – 20-39-1(9). Stopped 12 times.
Reggie Strickland – 66-276-17(14). Stopped 25 times.
James “Quick” Tillis – 42-22-1(31). Stopped 11 times.
Lorenzo Boyd – 30-55-1(18). Stopped 42 times.
Lewis Van Poetsch – 14-152-4(4). Stopped 11 times.
Steve Zouski – 31-18(15). Stopped eight times.
Rocky Sekorski – 23-13(11). Stopped four times.
Marion Wilson – 12-41-4(5). Never once stopped.
Emanuel Augustus – 38-34-6(20). Stopped five times.
Leon Spinks – 26-17-3(14). Stopped nine times.
Kristian Laight – 12-279-9(0). Stopped five times.
Johnny Greaves – 4-96(1). Stopped twelve times.
Ismael Abdoul – 59-37-3(20). Stopped once.
Terrell Jamal Woods (still active) – 29-62-10(29). Stopped seven times.
