From Steve Pinto - Former Boxing Columnist, Times Herald-Record - Middletown, NY (1993-1999)
"As a young writer in my early 20's attempting to give someone a reason to publish me for covering the sport I loved, I met Al Gavin at a fight card in upstate, NY. I knew who he was from having seen him in the corner of countless fighters on countless fights I'd watched on TV.
I introduced myself and expected nothing more than a gratuitous, "Hey kid" in return. What I got instead was a foothold on an opportunity I could only dream about. Al spent a good part of the night talking with me at ringside, far more time than I expected he would. He side-stepped most of my questions about his work with genuine interest about my writing pursuits.
A few weeks later, I wrote to thank him for his time and he replied with a long, thoughtful hand-written response. He also put me in touch with Lou Sahadi, publisher of Boxing Scene magazine. It lead to my first published piece, which led to a freelancing career and eight years working as a weekly boxing columnist for an upstate NY newspaper and some of the best moments of my life.
A number of years later, I ran into Al in CT at the Lou Savarese-Leo Nolan fight and had a chance to thank him for helping me get my start. I'm not sure he remembered me but he was as gracious and generous with his time as he was when I'd first met him. I'm grateful to Al for helping me to get my start as a boxing writer. Moreso, I appreciate the time he gave me simply because we shared a common interest. As I've come to know people who knew Al far better than I did, I'm not surprised by this. I'm told that's the type of man he was.
I've never been cut by a punch and needed Al's expertise to keep me in a fight but in some small way, I can identify. I'm a better man for having Al Gavin in my corner."
Showing posts with label Al Gavin cutman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Al Gavin cutman. Show all posts
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Monday, May 2, 2011
More on the Wit and Wisdom of Al Gavin
rom Sue Dunne.....
The first time I met Al Gavin was when he came to Cardiff, South Wales Uk, for the Lennox Lewis V Frank Bruno fight. I think this was in 1993.
We hit it off straight away and I left Al that day with an armful of gifts he had given me. I was later to learn that this was not a one off, but pretty much every time I met Al, with my family, we always had gifts from him.
We all loved to listen to Al telling us about his experiences and encounters of his life.
One story I remember in particular was about Al visiting an Aunt of his when he was younger, apparently the Aunt wasn’t a very good cook, and one of her favourite recipes was a concoction that he called cabbage soup. He said he always hoped there was something different to eat when he went to visit her, but she would always serve him this cabbage soup.
Although Al was not very keen on the soup he always ate it. His brother? rarely visited his Aunt as he hated the cabbage soup and made fun of Al when he said he had been to see his Aunt.
Many years later when the Aunt died she left some money to Al in her will, but nothing to his brother.
Al’s brother suggested that he share the money between the two of them. Al’s come back to his brother was “you should have eaten the soup”.
Al had many stories like this to tell and several times we suggested that he write a book, Al’s response was, no-one would want to read it. I am sure everyone who knew him would agree that there are lots of people who would have read it and it would have been lovely for us to read and remember other such stories that I am sure Al told to all his friends.
Al was a diamond, a unique irreplaceable diamond, we will miss him forever.
The first time I met Al Gavin was when he came to Cardiff, South Wales Uk, for the Lennox Lewis V Frank Bruno fight. I think this was in 1993.
We hit it off straight away and I left Al that day with an armful of gifts he had given me. I was later to learn that this was not a one off, but pretty much every time I met Al, with my family, we always had gifts from him.
We all loved to listen to Al telling us about his experiences and encounters of his life.
One story I remember in particular was about Al visiting an Aunt of his when he was younger, apparently the Aunt wasn’t a very good cook, and one of her favourite recipes was a concoction that he called cabbage soup. He said he always hoped there was something different to eat when he went to visit her, but she would always serve him this cabbage soup.
Although Al was not very keen on the soup he always ate it. His brother? rarely visited his Aunt as he hated the cabbage soup and made fun of Al when he said he had been to see his Aunt.
Many years later when the Aunt died she left some money to Al in her will, but nothing to his brother.
Al’s brother suggested that he share the money between the two of them. Al’s come back to his brother was “you should have eaten the soup”.
Al had many stories like this to tell and several times we suggested that he write a book, Al’s response was, no-one would want to read it. I am sure everyone who knew him would agree that there are lots of people who would have read it and it would have been lovely for us to read and remember other such stories that I am sure Al told to all his friends.
Al was a diamond, a unique irreplaceable diamond, we will miss him forever.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Boxing Hall of Fame Misses Mark Again
Al Gavin Left Off New List of Inductees
Another year has come and and gone, but the glaring omission of Al Gavin's name on the list of inductees to the International Boxing Hall of Fame continues.
The world-renowned cutman and gym proprietor who touched thousands of lives during his half century of service to the sweet science still remains on the outside looking in.
If there is anyone who deserves enshrinement into the Hall, it's Al Gavin.
There is not one soul in the sport who will disagree. Gavin's importance goes beyond his recordable achievements and statistics. His dedication, kindness, tutelage and friendship to the scores he crossed paths with - from champions to club fighters, to trainers, managers, sportswriters etc.- puts him in the pantheon of boxing greats.
Yet, the INHOF does not recognize him.
Al Gavin is perhaps omitted because he was a class act in sport where class is not valued. The way he lived his life and dedicated himself to his craft and his subjects is something rarely seen not only in boxing, but in any walk of life these days.
If it were not for Al, and many like him such as his partner Bob Jackson, boxing would have been dead long ago. He was from a generation that preserved rather than destroyed. He built bridges, not walls.
He loved boxing and dedicated life to helping all willing participants. Unlike many in his position, he helped people. He wasn't a user. He was Boxing's good guy.
The Hall should rewarded him years ago, before his untimely death in 2004. Now, six years later, they have failed once again to bring class into their fold.
Another year has come and and gone, but the glaring omission of Al Gavin's name on the list of inductees to the International Boxing Hall of Fame continues.
The world-renowned cutman and gym proprietor who touched thousands of lives during his half century of service to the sweet science still remains on the outside looking in.
If there is anyone who deserves enshrinement into the Hall, it's Al Gavin.
There is not one soul in the sport who will disagree. Gavin's importance goes beyond his recordable achievements and statistics. His dedication, kindness, tutelage and friendship to the scores he crossed paths with - from champions to club fighters, to trainers, managers, sportswriters etc.- puts him in the pantheon of boxing greats.
Yet, the INHOF does not recognize him.
Al Gavin is perhaps omitted because he was a class act in sport where class is not valued. The way he lived his life and dedicated himself to his craft and his subjects is something rarely seen not only in boxing, but in any walk of life these days.
If it were not for Al, and many like him such as his partner Bob Jackson, boxing would have been dead long ago. He was from a generation that preserved rather than destroyed. He built bridges, not walls.
He loved boxing and dedicated life to helping all willing participants. Unlike many in his position, he helped people. He wasn't a user. He was Boxing's good guy.
The Hall should rewarded him years ago, before his untimely death in 2004. Now, six years later, they have failed once again to bring class into their fold.
Monday, April 12, 2010
A Message From a Former Fighter
This was sent to us from Jay Speelman, a former welterweight boxer who trained under Al Gavin..
I had the great privilege of knowing and training under Al Gavin for about seven years. As with anybody who knew Al, that time was not enough.
I first met Al when I was twenty-three years old. I previously came from an extensive martial arts and kickboxing background, but was in pursuit of a more respected sport and felt the need for a world class trainer. One summer night, my friend Walter and I drove up to Gleason's "Bull Dog" boxing gym in Garden City, N. Y where I heard Al was training fighters. Upon observing my sparring sessions, Al kindly took me under his wing.
Al was unparalleled as a trainer in two different ways. First, he had an in depth knowledge of the game unlike any other trainer I have come across. Second, he treated and directed his fighters as though he were looking through a father's lenses.
He taught me many of boxing's finer points and steered me out of harm's way when I was too foolish and prideful to realize that the sport was bigger than my ego.
We headed to Gleason's Gym in Brooklyn, NY for one of my amateur fights. My family was there to support me along with many of my friends. There was confusion with the fight card and some fighters didn't show and others didn't make weight. Al was talking to some officials and coaches in the back while other event members prompted me toward the ring. Across from my 139 pound frame was a 165 pounder waiting eagerly to make minced meat out of me.
My thought was that my family and friends came to watch me fight-- I wasn't going to let them down by going down. I was hoping Al would get to my corner before the opening bell. Instead he came walking out of the back pointing at me saying, "GET OUT." He was wearing an expression as if to say, " Don't even think about talking back either." Perhaps Al didn't realize the depth of my respect for him and wouldn't question him even in the midst of that humiliating moment.
Later in the locker room, Al explained to my family and me that certain people involved with the event were trying to play dirty, "but Uncle AL stepped in." Later, Al told me that he knew I wasn't afraid and was willing to fight.
Al made a very successful career out of the sport he loved. He never found any financial security in me. Al took the time to steer me away from the dark side of boxing and eventually out of the game all together. What can I say? I just didn't have it. The thing that made Al unique is that he truly cared. He wouldn't advance his agenda if it meant hurting someone else.
Since Al's passing, I have stepped out of boxing completely. I have a wife and daughter now and have not followed boxing the way I use to. I recently learned that Al Gavin is not in the Boxing Hall of Fame. This disturbs me. Al is known in the sport as the "world's greatest cutman" and "boxing's good guy."
Boxing has had it's run in with many corrupt people making money from the blood of others. Al was NOT one of them. He was a light in what is sometimes a dark sport. Al was a true professional who took in a guy like me and kept him safe.
We miss you Al. God bless
I had the great privilege of knowing and training under Al Gavin for about seven years. As with anybody who knew Al, that time was not enough.
I first met Al when I was twenty-three years old. I previously came from an extensive martial arts and kickboxing background, but was in pursuit of a more respected sport and felt the need for a world class trainer. One summer night, my friend Walter and I drove up to Gleason's "Bull Dog" boxing gym in Garden City, N. Y where I heard Al was training fighters. Upon observing my sparring sessions, Al kindly took me under his wing.
Al was unparalleled as a trainer in two different ways. First, he had an in depth knowledge of the game unlike any other trainer I have come across. Second, he treated and directed his fighters as though he were looking through a father's lenses.
He taught me many of boxing's finer points and steered me out of harm's way when I was too foolish and prideful to realize that the sport was bigger than my ego.
We headed to Gleason's Gym in Brooklyn, NY for one of my amateur fights. My family was there to support me along with many of my friends. There was confusion with the fight card and some fighters didn't show and others didn't make weight. Al was talking to some officials and coaches in the back while other event members prompted me toward the ring. Across from my 139 pound frame was a 165 pounder waiting eagerly to make minced meat out of me.
My thought was that my family and friends came to watch me fight-- I wasn't going to let them down by going down. I was hoping Al would get to my corner before the opening bell. Instead he came walking out of the back pointing at me saying, "GET OUT." He was wearing an expression as if to say, " Don't even think about talking back either." Perhaps Al didn't realize the depth of my respect for him and wouldn't question him even in the midst of that humiliating moment.
Later in the locker room, Al explained to my family and me that certain people involved with the event were trying to play dirty, "but Uncle AL stepped in." Later, Al told me that he knew I wasn't afraid and was willing to fight.
Al made a very successful career out of the sport he loved. He never found any financial security in me. Al took the time to steer me away from the dark side of boxing and eventually out of the game all together. What can I say? I just didn't have it. The thing that made Al unique is that he truly cared. He wouldn't advance his agenda if it meant hurting someone else.
Since Al's passing, I have stepped out of boxing completely. I have a wife and daughter now and have not followed boxing the way I use to. I recently learned that Al Gavin is not in the Boxing Hall of Fame. This disturbs me. Al is known in the sport as the "world's greatest cutman" and "boxing's good guy."
Boxing has had it's run in with many corrupt people making money from the blood of others. Al was NOT one of them. He was a light in what is sometimes a dark sport. Al was a true professional who took in a guy like me and kept him safe.
We miss you Al. God bless
Monday, March 22, 2010
Former Gloves Champ Seamus McDonagh on Al Gavin
We recently received this dispatch from Seamus McDonagh, the 1985 NY Golden Gloves Heavyweight champion. Seamus would go on to turn pro and fight the likes of Evander Holyfield (that's Seamus, pictured, delivering a hard right hand to Holyfield's chin in a 1990 bout...)
"I loved Al Gavin. When I came to New York as a teenager, my introduction to the profession was at the Gramercy Boxing Gym on 14th street. Al was always so kind to me.
I was shocked to see Mustafa Hamsho there and to be introduced to the likes of Paddy Flood. I was suspicious of the managers who sat at a table to the side of the ring, smoking cigars which enraged me.
But Al would always come up with something funny and break the ice. He worked the corner in a lot of my fights in the "Gloves" and in the pros.
When I'd see him in the dressing the night of a fight, I'd immediately relax. His expertise with cuts kept my unbeaten run going for a long time.
When I recall the "Gloves", an image of Al pops into my head, also Neil Ferara and "The Thin Man" Nick, Bobby Barbero, Vinny Cerola and Joe Baffi, and my dad Jim McDonagh. They were the days of innocence in boxing for me and
Al was a part of that. So he isn't gone because he lives on in me and everyone's lives he touched, literally. Thank you dear Al."
Seamus McDonagh
NY Golden Gloves Heavyweight Champion 1985
I was shocked to see Mustafa Hamsho there and to be introduced to the likes of Paddy Flood. I was suspicious of the managers who sat at a table to the side of the ring, smoking cigars which enraged me.
But Al would always come up with something funny and break the ice. He worked the corner in a lot of my fights in the "Gloves" and in the pros.
When I'd see him in the dressing the night of a fight, I'd immediately relax. His expertise with cuts kept my unbeaten run going for a long time.
When I recall the "Gloves", an image of Al pops into my head, also Neil Ferara and "The Thin Man" Nick, Bobby Barbero, Vinny Cerola and Joe Baffi, and my dad Jim McDonagh. They were the days of innocence in boxing for me and
Al was a part of that. So he isn't gone because he lives on in me and everyone's lives he touched, literally. Thank you dear Al."
Seamus McDonagh
NY Golden Gloves Heavyweight Champion 1985
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
"Now that's a good wrap...."
He looked forward to going out there and working with them, but he never let on to his feelings about it, as they constantly changed personnel.
He told me they picked him up from the airport in a limousine, and drove him to the training facility in Big Bear. Top notch, all the way.
After meeting with the crew, he sat with Oscar, talked for awhile, and got on the subject of hand wraps, as Oscar had sustained a hand injury at some time and was particular as to how his hands were done.
Well, Dad wrapped his hands, and Oscar, banging one fist into the palm of the other said "Now thats a good wrap". Soon after, De La Hoya went on to stop Gatti in 4 rounds.
Did Dad wrap his hands? I dont know. But the look in his eyes when he told me that story, well, said it all.
Al Gavin Jr.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Orlando Fernandez on Al Gavin
I sat there for about an hour talking baseball with him waiting for the weigh-ins to start. We ended up talking more baseball after the weigh-ins over dinner and then the next morning at breakfast. I enjoyed our conversation very much and our friendship continued from there. We went on many trips with Kevin, Reggie, Phil and even Paul Vizzio over the next couple of years. Holland, Vegas, Montreal, Atlantic City, etc.
I loved going on these trips because not only did we work the fights but we also got to see the sites. Al and I would share a room on these trips. We would get up and go to breakfast, then a walk, he would stop at a store to get some gifts and a postcard to send home. We would talk boxing and I would pick his brain about all the greats of the past and his most memorable fights as a trainer or a cutman.
I remember one trip to Chester, West Virginia where Kevin Kelley was fighting his 1st fight after losing the title. It was at a racetrack so after breakfast we went for a walk by the track. He asked a woman there how far the closest store was and she said "down the road a bit, not to far". So off we went to get a post card since this trip was a 2 fight trip. 1 in West Virginia and then on to Atlantic City for Paul Vizzio's fight. We walked about 3 miles and Al looked at me and said " this is more then just a bit ". I laughed and laughed with him walking. We ended up getting picked up by a local who drove us to the store and back to the hotel. We saw the woman the next morning and said hey some bit of a walk. She said "oh I am sorry I thought you had a car.
The trips with Al were great. When I wasn't doing anything on a weekend he would call me up, have me meet him at Army's Restaraunt in Corona, right by my house and would grab a bite to eat and then off to A.C. for a fight we would go. That was fun. I moved to Florida in 1996 and continued my friendship even though I was not in NY.
He pointed me in the direction of a gym in St. Pete Florida and my days as a trainer continued. We met up a few times in Tampa for some fights and had laughs after laughs. I joined the Navy in 1999 and told Al I was going and he said train some fighters on the ship while you are there. I thought that was crazy but I ended up working with 2 amateur fighters on the ship while we were out to sea. I called Al and told him and he laughed and said I told you so.
The worst day of my life in the Navy was when we were out to sea but got a chance to catch the fights on HBO that night. I was by my rack when I heard them toll the bell for the late great Al Gavin. My heart dropped to the floor. I lost my best friend, my mentor, I lost Uncle Al. It was the hardest thing to swallow while out to sea. Could not call anybody since we were so far out to sea and had to wait 4 months until I could call the family to say I was sorry.
Now its going on 6 years since he has passed and he still has not been inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame. That is a shame. The man did so much for this sport and he deserves to be in the Hall. New Jersey inducted him in 2006 and I am doing what I can to get him into the Florida Boxing Hall of Fame. I am going to continue to do whatever I can to help him get into the Hall of Fame. He deserves it NOW! Not 5 years from now, not 10 years, but NOW!
I still work with fighters today here in Tampa and if I get into a pinch with a fighter and he gets cut I just ask Uncle Al to guide my hand. It works. Not only is this man missed by many people today, his memory lives on with me where his initial will always be on my cornerman jacket right on my left sleeve closest to my heart. I miss you Uncle Al and will see you again some day.
R.I.P.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Harold Lederman On Al Gavin
I must have known Al Gavin for thirty years, maybe more. He didn't only like me cause he thought I knew a little about the game, he liked me because, like him, I was a good eater.
Funny thing about boxing judges and cutmen...they both wind up in a lot of God forsaken places with tons of time on their hands and no place to spend it waiting for the first bell to ring.
I remember one time Al and I wound up, in of all places, Tulsa, Oklahoma. Not a heck of a lot to do in Tulsa. Al was working some corner, and I think I was working for HBO, probably when Tommy Morrison was fighting Michael Bentt. Al and I found a little place to eat breakfast and lunch, owned by a nice lady named, "Jeannie". Of course the name of the restaurant was "Jeannie's".
Every morning and every afternoon Al and I would hop in my rental car and go to Jeannie's for breakfast and lunch because the food was good and Jeannie didn't charge L'Cirque prices. Well, as fate would have it, every time we went there there was a cowboy looking person wearing blue jeans sitting at a corner table having his meal. I kept telling Al, "I know this guy". I just couldn't place the face. Al thought I was a total whack job. "How could you know a guy sitting in a greasy spoon in Tulsa, Oklahoma?", asked the world's greatest cutman.
Well, finally I could not take it no more, so I went over to Jeannie, who by this time had become a friend of ours, and said "who is the cowboy who's always sitting in the corner?"
After that, Al had a little more respect for yours truly. He couldn't believe it when the cowboy turned out to be the recently retired kicker for the New York Giants, Don Chandler. Now kickers aren't the biggest guys on the football field, so when I told Al that Chandler kicked twelve years for the Giants, he had a hard time believing that a guy the size of Chandler could be on the same field as Roosevelt Grier.
Problem was that they don't take off their helmets enough, so although I had seen him kick, I couldn't remember who he was over his breakfast of creamed chip beef on toast.
Ain't too many guys left to hang out with now that Al's gone. Al had a special appeal that just made you want to be with him. A die hard fight guy, he knew the business inside and out, and made it fun to be at the fights.
I miss you Al. I'm sure we'll meet up some day, even if it's not at Jeannies.
Harold Lederman is a longtime in-fight commentator for HBO Sports
Monday, August 10, 2009
The Man In My Corner
by Michael Fetherston
Al Gavin's professional life reads like a who's who of the fight game for the last fifty years. His abilities as a cut man became so legendary that the countless champions, trainers and managers the world over who sought his services referred to him simply as "Big Al". If that name was said out loud in almost any fight club from Brooklyn to Las Vegas, people knew who he was and they knew his presence in a fighters corner could mean the difference between a title belt being won or lost.
Al spent a lot of time on t.v. and in the spotlight and now that he's gone there's a crowd of great men who have a lot of great stories to tell about him, and I'm sure they're all true. I myself was never a champion, and I never basked in the spotlight with Al, but in the moments that I did spend with him I learned that this great man was at his best when it mattered most in life, and that's when no one was looking.
I met Al when I was twelve years old, the day I climbed the stairs to the old Gramercy Gym on 14th St. Walking into that gym for the first time was a hard thing for any kid to do, but as soon as I saw the big man sitting in the beat up old easy chair in the middle of the room it felt easy. Al had his trade mark poker face on when he first looked me over, tight lipped and stern eyes, but that look didn't fool me one bit.
He was one of the good guys, and anyone who ever looked Al Gavin in the eyes knew it. He had only two questions for me- where did I live and was I in school (it occurred to me that he must of been used to dealing with a rough bunch of kids if they were dropping out of school at the age of twelve) and he told me to come back the next day with fifteen bucks and a pair of hand wraps.
Over the next few months, Al taught me to box. Like I said, I never became a champion or even made it past a disastrous amateur career. The fact was, I didn't have "it", that special ability that only a few among us are ever blessed with. I simply didn't have the talent to be a real fighter, and the expert eyes of Al Gavin must have seen that early on. He had to have known that I was never going to make him a dime (not counting the fifteen bucks, of course), I was never going to put him under the spot light and I was never going to add to his legend.
But for some reason, Al Gavin still took the time out to teach me to box.
I'd walk into the gym everyday after school, prime-time for the pros and the champs. Al would be working with a contender here, an up and comer there, and still he'd take the time out to work with me, a scrawny kid off the streets who didn't exactly have 'title shot' written all over him. He was patient and thorough, never accepting a sloppily thrown jab or lazy right, and always gave me an attaboy when I did it right.
He taught me to not sulk when things didn't go my way in a sparring session and not to gloat when they did. He kept track of when my school issued report cards and let me know passing grades were a requirement for gym membership (yeah, I kept my grades up, and yeah, he checked). I was a sullen, slouching kind of kid, but Al didn't accept that either. If I wanted to leave the gym each day without a lecture, I had to do so with my head held high.
Later that year, the Gramercy closed for good. I bounced around to other gyms for a while, but I never trained with Al again. I would stop into Gleason's as often as I could to say hi to him, and he always wanted a full report of my goings-on's.
Over the years, I begrudgingly accepted that my dreams of championship were never to be, but hanging up the gloves was never the end of my friendship with Al. He was always there to support me in whatever endeavors I had in life, and when many years later I became a New York City Police Officer he made sure I met all the right people he knew in that world as well.
Al knew way before I did that I was never going to find what I was looking for in the ring, but he never told me so. He knew that there's no way to explain that to a kid, he has to find that out for himself, and when I did he still continued to work my corner. In the game of life, just like the fight game, everybody needs a good corner man, and some of us are lucky enough to have a great one.
Even now, when the going gets tough and I find myself slouching, I can still see Al's stern face and kind eyes and hear his voice, "Keep 'em up kid, keep 'em up".
Al Gavin's professional life reads like a who's who of the fight game for the last fifty years. His abilities as a cut man became so legendary that the countless champions, trainers and managers the world over who sought his services referred to him simply as "Big Al". If that name was said out loud in almost any fight club from Brooklyn to Las Vegas, people knew who he was and they knew his presence in a fighters corner could mean the difference between a title belt being won or lost.
Al spent a lot of time on t.v. and in the spotlight and now that he's gone there's a crowd of great men who have a lot of great stories to tell about him, and I'm sure they're all true. I myself was never a champion, and I never basked in the spotlight with Al, but in the moments that I did spend with him I learned that this great man was at his best when it mattered most in life, and that's when no one was looking.
I met Al when I was twelve years old, the day I climbed the stairs to the old Gramercy Gym on 14th St. Walking into that gym for the first time was a hard thing for any kid to do, but as soon as I saw the big man sitting in the beat up old easy chair in the middle of the room it felt easy. Al had his trade mark poker face on when he first looked me over, tight lipped and stern eyes, but that look didn't fool me one bit.
He was one of the good guys, and anyone who ever looked Al Gavin in the eyes knew it. He had only two questions for me- where did I live and was I in school (it occurred to me that he must of been used to dealing with a rough bunch of kids if they were dropping out of school at the age of twelve) and he told me to come back the next day with fifteen bucks and a pair of hand wraps.
Over the next few months, Al taught me to box. Like I said, I never became a champion or even made it past a disastrous amateur career. The fact was, I didn't have "it", that special ability that only a few among us are ever blessed with. I simply didn't have the talent to be a real fighter, and the expert eyes of Al Gavin must have seen that early on. He had to have known that I was never going to make him a dime (not counting the fifteen bucks, of course), I was never going to put him under the spot light and I was never going to add to his legend.
But for some reason, Al Gavin still took the time out to teach me to box.
I'd walk into the gym everyday after school, prime-time for the pros and the champs. Al would be working with a contender here, an up and comer there, and still he'd take the time out to work with me, a scrawny kid off the streets who didn't exactly have 'title shot' written all over him. He was patient and thorough, never accepting a sloppily thrown jab or lazy right, and always gave me an attaboy when I did it right.
He taught me to not sulk when things didn't go my way in a sparring session and not to gloat when they did. He kept track of when my school issued report cards and let me know passing grades were a requirement for gym membership (yeah, I kept my grades up, and yeah, he checked). I was a sullen, slouching kind of kid, but Al didn't accept that either. If I wanted to leave the gym each day without a lecture, I had to do so with my head held high.
Later that year, the Gramercy closed for good. I bounced around to other gyms for a while, but I never trained with Al again. I would stop into Gleason's as often as I could to say hi to him, and he always wanted a full report of my goings-on's.
Over the years, I begrudgingly accepted that my dreams of championship were never to be, but hanging up the gloves was never the end of my friendship with Al. He was always there to support me in whatever endeavors I had in life, and when many years later I became a New York City Police Officer he made sure I met all the right people he knew in that world as well.
Al knew way before I did that I was never going to find what I was looking for in the ring, but he never told me so. He knew that there's no way to explain that to a kid, he has to find that out for himself, and when I did he still continued to work my corner. In the game of life, just like the fight game, everybody needs a good corner man, and some of us are lucky enough to have a great one.
Even now, when the going gets tough and I find myself slouching, I can still see Al's stern face and kind eyes and hear his voice, "Keep 'em up kid, keep 'em up".
Friday, July 31, 2009
A Message From Verne "Bulldog" Williams
Al Gavin is in my heart.
To those of us who liked to fight, the big guy was the prime example of who world champions wanted in their corner in the tradition of Arcel and Bimstein.
As a understudy to these masters of the art, able to stop the flow, and carry the distinction of the true gentlemen who he emulated through his entire life. Al Gavin was prized by all of us who have been lucky enough to be considered in friendship.
When you shook his hand you knew or you didn't. "The old school". He knew what 15 rounds took, what champ meant in 8 weight classes. Stillman's gym, and who, along with Bobby Jackson and Pat Robertson inherited the Empire State Sporting Club housed at the Gramacy gym from Cus D'Amato.
Trainers of champions, all of them . Contributors to American Boxing History that began in 1939. In the tradition of American fighters, who have ruled the game.
I was there in 2000 at the 75th Annual Boxing Writers Dinner that Al invited me to attend at the Crown Plaza in N.Y. Boy, I got slicked up for that one... Blue suit, impeccable white shirt, black featherweights you could see your face in, haircut, fresh shave.
I walked through the door, and a guy with a dented nose pointed me to the stairwell to the mezzanine, and halfway up, I was grabbed by two huge guys bigger than Al himself in suits, Asking me if I was Bulldog Williams.
Ahh, am I under arrest ? Aww no way Bulldog, you have been invited to Al's suite, and we are taking you there. "You must be a good guy sir, because he likes you, and he doesn't like anyone! I can't tell you how honored I felt. He did the Jimmy Walker Award proud along with Bob Jackson that evening, being honored by the best writers of boxing, and the best fighters on the planet.
Like I said, "Al Gavin is in my heart".
Verne "Bulldog" Williams
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Tom Hanrahan On Al Gavin
Tommy Hanrahan was a former columnist for the New York Daily News and is now one of the country's most renowned writers on the outdoors.
I covered the Golden Gloves during the 1980s and knew very little about boxing aside from being an avid fan of the game. It was like being dropped deep behind enemy lines - there was a crushing mayhem everywhere I turned. Just absolute chaos. Remember, there were hundreds of fighters back then and some cards featured as many as 32 fights and went well beyond midnight.
The laconic man who stood at the back of the dressing room, saying nothing, taking it all in. The man who knew all and kept it to himself, sharing his wisdom only with his fighters - and me.
Just like Al Gavin.
I used to watch him watching a fight and it was all in his eyes. The face betrayed very little. A small smile. A barely discernible frown, a growl so low it was almost inaudible. He taught me how to watch a fight, he did. How to watch the sequence of punches, the speed of a fist, the telling blow, the moment a fight goes one way or the other.
He taught me the best fight is the one nearly lost. When a fighter gets beat up and then somehow from somewhere discovers he is still in it and gains a new level of life and tastes victory and seizes it. That always brought a smile to Al's face, to see a kid come along who made up his mind to win and did it. Often against substantial odds. That was Al's favorite fight and it became mine too. A fight where you might say goodness won.
I remember Al taping hands and it was a thing to watch. I remember Al grabbing me when I did something stupid and pulling me away from a fight of my own. I remember Al in deep discourse with a fighter, his face so close, his hands moving across a cut so expertly, all the while dispensing the most lucid advice, encouraging and cajoling and inspiring some unknown kid to a kind of greatness.
Because Al was great. He knew the game very, very well and he knew people and he knew that the great virtues - integrity, hard work, purpose - were what championship fighters had to aspire to to be truly great. Al worked with a lot of legends and a lot of unknowns and he was the same with everybody. Al was a good adult, you see, a good grownup. There aren't a lot of people out there like that. Very few, if you must know.
Al had very little patience with the baloney - and that's the word he used - that is such a part of the boxing scene. He was the man who focused on those moments in the ring when normal existence came to an end and something else took over. Something wonderful and something beautiful. Al Gavin made the boxing scene something clean, and dignified and wonderful. He was the most honest man I met in a largely dishonest flesh trade and proved that good men exist everywhere, and often in places you least expect them to be.
If I had had a son I would have brought him to Al to learn how to box. Because I know in the process he would learn something far more important than how to hook and jab. To learn what it means to be a real man.
God I miss him.
I covered the Golden Gloves during the 1980s and knew very little about boxing aside from being an avid fan of the game. It was like being dropped deep behind enemy lines - there was a crushing mayhem everywhere I turned. Just absolute chaos. Remember, there were hundreds of fighters back then and some cards featured as many as 32 fights and went well beyond midnight.
Enter Al Gavin.
The laconic man who stood at the back of the dressing room, saying nothing, taking it all in. The man who knew all and kept it to himself, sharing his wisdom only with his fighters - and me.
"Watch out for the kid who stands in his corner and doesn't say anything and doesn't do anything flashy - that's a kid you need to take seriously. He didn't come here to show off he came to fight. Most of the people here in this game - the fighters and the managers and the trainers and the hangers on - they're here to show off. But there's that few who are here to win, here to compete, and those are the people who make this game great."
Just like Al Gavin.
I used to watch him watching a fight and it was all in his eyes. The face betrayed very little. A small smile. A barely discernible frown, a growl so low it was almost inaudible. He taught me how to watch a fight, he did. How to watch the sequence of punches, the speed of a fist, the telling blow, the moment a fight goes one way or the other.
He taught me the best fight is the one nearly lost. When a fighter gets beat up and then somehow from somewhere discovers he is still in it and gains a new level of life and tastes victory and seizes it. That always brought a smile to Al's face, to see a kid come along who made up his mind to win and did it. Often against substantial odds. That was Al's favorite fight and it became mine too. A fight where you might say goodness won.
I remember Al taping hands and it was a thing to watch. I remember Al grabbing me when I did something stupid and pulling me away from a fight of my own. I remember Al in deep discourse with a fighter, his face so close, his hands moving across a cut so expertly, all the while dispensing the most lucid advice, encouraging and cajoling and inspiring some unknown kid to a kind of greatness.
Because Al was great. He knew the game very, very well and he knew people and he knew that the great virtues - integrity, hard work, purpose - were what championship fighters had to aspire to to be truly great. Al worked with a lot of legends and a lot of unknowns and he was the same with everybody. Al was a good adult, you see, a good grownup. There aren't a lot of people out there like that. Very few, if you must know.
Al had very little patience with the baloney - and that's the word he used - that is such a part of the boxing scene. He was the man who focused on those moments in the ring when normal existence came to an end and something else took over. Something wonderful and something beautiful. Al Gavin made the boxing scene something clean, and dignified and wonderful. He was the most honest man I met in a largely dishonest flesh trade and proved that good men exist everywhere, and often in places you least expect them to be.
If I had had a son I would have brought him to Al to learn how to box. Because I know in the process he would learn something far more important than how to hook and jab. To learn what it means to be a real man.
God I miss him.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
More Accolades For The Cutman
I met Al in 1997 ... as such, did not know him as long as many others. Yet he took me in as a close friend as if he had known me since childhood and always treated me as part of his extended family. I had the highest respect for him, not only as a cutman, but as a person. There are very few people in this world that deserves the highest accolades that Al Gavin has earned. Without doubt, Al Gavin will be in the Boxing Hall of Fame.
Al Gavin meant so much to so many ... fighters, friends, and family. His expertise as a cutman was unquestionable. He was as genuine and close a friend as anyone could imagine. He loved his family and extended that love to the boxing community. That too was his family. He was someone that you could always depend on and someone who always gave so much of himself to others. "Uncle Al", as we knew him, will always be in our hearts as we were always in his.
Rest In Peace, my friend.
Victor & Maria Pei
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Will Zito Video Tribute
Will Zito, a former fighter under Al's tutelage sent us this video and tribute...
For two years Al was my trainer and cut man; but most importantly he was a father figure to me, both in and out of the boxing gym. During this time we became very close and overcame battles both in and out of the ring. Aside from training Al and I spent most of our time together talking about life, boxing and every other topic you can think of. During our talks Al would dig deep with the questions he would ask to find out what really made me tic. He wanted to know who Will Zito the person was, and paid a higher interest in me as a person, than as a fighter.
Like so many others, Al fulfilled a gap in my life that seemed impossible to fill. He became my voice of reason and taught me what being a “Man” really meant. Words cannot say what Al gave to me. What he gave cannot be described; it is a feeling, a reason, self worth and character. Al understood something that most people, and even those who are labeled as “great teachers” fail to see; and that is that success cannot be achieved without belief. He inspired so many by showing them that he believed in them, and therefore they believed in themselves. He knew that all someone needed was just one person to believe in them and that could fuel the attitude and dedication needed to accomplish an entire lifetime of dreams and goals, no matter how big or small.
I know this is true because his belief in me still drives me to this day; and as he helped me, I am now helping others. I know he is still with me and all those who had the honor of knowing him; in my heart, in my thoughts and in my soul I will carry him for a lifetime. He lives in all of us, within the hearts and minds of his children, in every breath of his loving wife, and in every fight with every boxer who ever had, and still has Al in their corner.
Thank you Al for all that you have given me, for all that you have given to all of us.
God Bless you, God Bless your family…
Love “your own” Will Zito
For two years Al was my trainer and cut man; but most importantly he was a father figure to me, both in and out of the boxing gym. During this time we became very close and overcame battles both in and out of the ring. Aside from training Al and I spent most of our time together talking about life, boxing and every other topic you can think of. During our talks Al would dig deep with the questions he would ask to find out what really made me tic. He wanted to know who Will Zito the person was, and paid a higher interest in me as a person, than as a fighter.
Like so many others, Al fulfilled a gap in my life that seemed impossible to fill. He became my voice of reason and taught me what being a “Man” really meant. Words cannot say what Al gave to me. What he gave cannot be described; it is a feeling, a reason, self worth and character. Al understood something that most people, and even those who are labeled as “great teachers” fail to see; and that is that success cannot be achieved without belief. He inspired so many by showing them that he believed in them, and therefore they believed in themselves. He knew that all someone needed was just one person to believe in them and that could fuel the attitude and dedication needed to accomplish an entire lifetime of dreams and goals, no matter how big or small.
I know this is true because his belief in me still drives me to this day; and as he helped me, I am now helping others. I know he is still with me and all those who had the honor of knowing him; in my heart, in my thoughts and in my soul I will carry him for a lifetime. He lives in all of us, within the hearts and minds of his children, in every breath of his loving wife, and in every fight with every boxer who ever had, and still has Al in their corner.
Thank you Al for all that you have given me, for all that you have given to all of us.
God Bless you, God Bless your family…
Love “your own” Will Zito
Monday, February 16, 2009
Jimmy Lange Remembers Al Gavin
From top Middleweight Jimmy Lange:
To me, Al Gavin was irreplaceable, as a friend and as a cutman. Al had a calming effect that came from his demeanor in and out of the ring. Nothing was gonna be shown to him that he had not seen. And he knew how to handle it."
We would talk for hours about boxing,life,women,you name it. In my time with him,he unselfishly shared a priceless look into the old time way of boxing,and life for that matter. He showed me that his perfection with cuts,was not born,it was BUILT. Built by someone willing to pass up the shortcuts and honor his trade.Respect for his trade was more important to him than money or fame.
The most important thing about Al was his compassion for his,and all fighters.He was a father to many,and fiercely protective of his men. First and foremost was his guys health. Most would say,"well that is how it should be". However, often many other things are given priority."
Never with Al.
He would refer to me as "kid",as he did with most. As I'm writing this,I can hear his voice as if he"s sitting next to me.
"What'll it be KID?","It's just a scratch KID","Now your doin it KID".
Well,we were all his KID,and we all knew it.
Al was a tough man,in the TOUGHEST sport.But his soft heart,compassion and integrity made him loved and respected by so many.
I miss you everyday Al.
Jimmy
MORE FROM JIMMY LANGE
"One of the nights that sticks out in my memories of Al was at a fight in New York city.I forget the venue,but it was in Times Square.I was to meet Al there at about 7:00 pm and shadow him for an evening of boxing.
Well I got there a little early and was told that Al had not arrived,however the mention of his name was credential enough,and I was escorted to the VIP pre fight party.
As I walked into the room,it was a small gathering,75-100 at most,but the vibe was that of a very rough crowd.
This was the kind of group who had been on both sides of the law and were proud of it. No nonsense.
Universaly,fighters are embraced in any situation,so I was comfortable.Still I put into practice the one method that is always appropriate.I kept my mouth shut and waited for Al.
So I became part of the scenery and was entertained by the personalities and conversations circulating the room.I remember how the testosterone coupled with anticipation of the fights,and of course add many different opinions on everything from,boxing to The Yankees and back to boxing,brought some the party goers to a boiling point.I felt as if there might be a couple extra,unscheduled,fights taking place that night.
Sure enough a scuffle broke out.This volitale situation was about to become a disaster.
Now,I'm no dummy,I headed for the door.And as I was leaving,guess who was walkin in?
Al saw me and said "stick with me".
The reaction of the room was priceless.
It was as if The Pope walked in.
All these tough guys forgot there beefs,and became like little kids around Al.
They clamoured the get to him,and show there respect.Very nonchalant,he chatted and made his way to the dressing room with me in tow.He denied countless requests to stay and converse.
I was filled with pride because I knew the only reason He came in there was to find me.
Anyway,as far as I know,the rest of the night went off without a hitch.And I got to watch a master at work."
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Bill Patrick Interviews Al Gavin
From January 2, 2001...broadcast on the Metro channel.
PART 1
PART 2
Part 3 Coming Soon
PART 1
PART 2
Part 3 Coming Soon
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Al Was Always There For Down-and-Out Fighters
I was at a boxing show in Hackensack, NJ in the early 90s, with my Dad, who I believe was working the corner of Willie Wise. On the undercard was a fighter that was brought in from Buffalo, NY for a 4 rounder against a local product, I presume.
The fight never went the distance. The guy got laid out flat in like the second round, and believe me, when this guy's head hit the canvas, it sounded like a bomb went off. I was in the dressing room and heard it. The doctor checked him over and said he was alright, save for an embarrassing defeat, and the fact that his "Cornermen" stole the $400 he had earned for the bout.
So at the end of the night here's this guy, sitting there, no money, in a virtually empty Holiday Inn ballroom , with tape and old handwraps all over the floor.
My father saw him, and when he heard what had happened to the guy, took him to the depot and bought him a ticket home.
Thats the kind of guy my Dad was.
Al Gavin Jr..
The fight never went the distance. The guy got laid out flat in like the second round, and believe me, when this guy's head hit the canvas, it sounded like a bomb went off. I was in the dressing room and heard it. The doctor checked him over and said he was alright, save for an embarrassing defeat, and the fact that his "Cornermen" stole the $400 he had earned for the bout.
So at the end of the night here's this guy, sitting there, no money, in a virtually empty Holiday Inn ballroom , with tape and old handwraps all over the floor.
My father saw him, and when he heard what had happened to the guy, took him to the depot and bought him a ticket home.
Thats the kind of guy my Dad was.
Al Gavin Jr..
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Martin Snow on Al Gavin
This post was submitted by Martin Snow of Trinity Boxing
Al Gavin...
To say that Al Gavin was a great cutman would be like saying that Mother Theresa was a great nun. If all we remember Al for is his work stopping cuts, we do him a great disservice. I prefer to think of Al not as a guy who closed cuts, but as a guy who opened doors. The doors he opened to me shaped my life. Al was more like an alchemist – he turned men into fighters and fighters into men. He was a life coach before anyone knew what a life coach was. Al was Dr. Phil with an Enswell.
Reggie Jackson once said that a good coach can make you better than you think you are. Al was a great coach because he made you better than you really were.
I fought (and beat, I might add) guys I had no business being in the ring with. Boxing for me was Plan B. Striking out on four pitches at my college baseball tryouts ( I took one pitch just to make it look good) kind of sealed my fate. Washed up at 20, boxing was the only thing standing between me and Slo-Pitch softball.
I was a white guy from a middle class neighborhood in Brooklyn going to school at Fordham University. By contrast, some of my opponents were receiving a different kind of education at the New York State Correctional Facility in Sing Sing. Where did I get the nerve to think I could fight, let alone beat, guys whose lives depended on how well they could use their fists? I got it from Uncle Al.
Al had a way of keeping you calm when everyone else was losing their heads. As long as I had those two eyes on my back, I felt like King Kong. Self confidence in the ring means nothing without the same level of confidence in your corner. Nothing fazed Al. If he wasn’t worried, why should I be? After all, we’re talking about Uncle Al here! The bad cop, badder cop routine that he worked with Bob pulled me through some tough fights.
One of the most important contributions that Al made (outside of his great family, of course) was that church on 14th Street called the Gramercy Gym. I’ve seen many people walk in, some broke, others broken, and walk out with faith, hope and another shot at redemption. If boxing was a religion, then Al would have been pope. He treated every member, no matter who they were or where they came from, the same. He ran the gym with an even hand, not an iron fist. The Gramercy is the place, mine included, that all gyms can only aspire to.
I could never repay the debt of gratitude for the way Al treated my brother and I, especially when my father passed away. Strange as it may seem, some of my fondest memories came at one of the lowest points in my life. He treated us as if we were his own sons, as he did with all of his fighters. It was because of him that I chose to make boxing my mission in life. I hope that I can make a difference in other people’s lives the way he did in mine. I miss you Uncle Al.
Al Gavin...
To say that Al Gavin was a great cutman would be like saying that Mother Theresa was a great nun. If all we remember Al for is his work stopping cuts, we do him a great disservice. I prefer to think of Al not as a guy who closed cuts, but as a guy who opened doors. The doors he opened to me shaped my life. Al was more like an alchemist – he turned men into fighters and fighters into men. He was a life coach before anyone knew what a life coach was. Al was Dr. Phil with an Enswell.
Reggie Jackson once said that a good coach can make you better than you think you are. Al was a great coach because he made you better than you really were.
I fought (and beat, I might add) guys I had no business being in the ring with. Boxing for me was Plan B. Striking out on four pitches at my college baseball tryouts ( I took one pitch just to make it look good) kind of sealed my fate. Washed up at 20, boxing was the only thing standing between me and Slo-Pitch softball.
I was a white guy from a middle class neighborhood in Brooklyn going to school at Fordham University. By contrast, some of my opponents were receiving a different kind of education at the New York State Correctional Facility in Sing Sing. Where did I get the nerve to think I could fight, let alone beat, guys whose lives depended on how well they could use their fists? I got it from Uncle Al.
Al had a way of keeping you calm when everyone else was losing their heads. As long as I had those two eyes on my back, I felt like King Kong. Self confidence in the ring means nothing without the same level of confidence in your corner. Nothing fazed Al. If he wasn’t worried, why should I be? After all, we’re talking about Uncle Al here! The bad cop, badder cop routine that he worked with Bob pulled me through some tough fights.
One of the most important contributions that Al made (outside of his great family, of course) was that church on 14th Street called the Gramercy Gym. I’ve seen many people walk in, some broke, others broken, and walk out with faith, hope and another shot at redemption. If boxing was a religion, then Al would have been pope. He treated every member, no matter who they were or where they came from, the same. He ran the gym with an even hand, not an iron fist. The Gramercy is the place, mine included, that all gyms can only aspire to.
I could never repay the debt of gratitude for the way Al treated my brother and I, especially when my father passed away. Strange as it may seem, some of my fondest memories came at one of the lowest points in my life. He treated us as if we were his own sons, as he did with all of his fighters. It was because of him that I chose to make boxing my mission in life. I hope that I can make a difference in other people’s lives the way he did in mine. I miss you Uncle Al.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Daily News' Tim Smith Gets Hall Bid Rolling
Tim Smith, the veteran boxing columnist for the NY Daily News wrote a great piece promoting Al Gavin Sr for the Boxing Hall of Fame. I have contacted Tim about the part where Al was in Gatti's corner, we all know he was in the opposite corner with Mickey Ward...
From today's NY Daily News:
Late Al Gavin Sr. should be considered for International Boxing Hall of Fame
by Tim Smith
Another class will be inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in Canastota, N.Y. this weekend. And Al Gavin Jr. is still wondering if his late father, the legendary trainer and cutman Al Gavin Sr., will ever be among the inductees.
"I'm not looking to step on anyone or anything," Gavin Jr. said. "But my father deserves to be in the Hall of Fame because of all his contributions to boxing. It's really a disgrace that he isn't in there." READ MORE
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