Since I was Caucasian, Izzy had to take extra precautions to prevent me from cutting. Whether it was true or not, Izzy believed white fighters cut easier around the eyes. A cut could lose you a fight, so in his infinite wisdom, Izzy came up with the craziest of methods to toughen my facial skin. He handed me a snorkel (Yes, my friends, a diving snorkel!), and had me immerse my face in a vat of beef blood for an hour. Did it work? I hadn’t cut yet, but I routinely came away with a crimson face and a pungent odor that drove most dogs in the neighborhood wild…and you thought fighting was all grandeur and glory!
As I neared my last round of sparring for the day, I caught sight of Danny Gallo standing on the ring skirt. I would give him a show, unfortunately it would be at the expense of my sparring partner. I was bombarding him with a slew of combinations just as…
The bell rang!
As Ralphie removed my headgear Gallo made his move, “Minchia kid, you look great!”
“Thanks Danny.” For the next few awkward seconds, I struggled to formulate any meaningful sort of conversation. I had little to say to him.
“Anthony, I hear you had issues with that kid from Red Hook.”
“Yes, I did.” I knew it was better to say as little as possible.
“Well, Anthony, to be honest with you, there may be a problem here. He wants to make an issue out of it.” Gallo waited for some reaction; he then continued, “I let them know that you were with me and touching you would be a serious mistake!” When a wiseguy told another wiseguy you were “with them,” this had grievous implications. That meant before someone could harm or even kill you, they had to get permission. (this type of health insurance wasn’t free) To an outsider, this all must seem alien and quite ridiculous. For the moment, it felt reassuring. Still, even with Gallo’s alleged protection, I knew ignoring Louie could be bad for my health!
Chapter 10
Warm And Fuzzy
Friday night, Gia would babysit for her older sister's son, and since her nephew was only ten months old, things could get hot and heavy, and there would be no one there who could rat on us.
The plan was, as soon as her sister and her husband pulled away, Gia would call me, but to be extra careful, I was to sneak through the back door. I found it all great fun, and the thought of being alone was exhilarating. I bought her red roses. In their most simplistic form, they screamed of passion.
She took the flowers to the kitchen, and when she came back, I noticed she had taken her jacket off and unbuttoned the top three buttons of her blouse. Deep down, I trembled with angst. Could I make her happy?
Crouching like a stalking lioness, she approached the couch. Every muscle in her body moved slow and sensual. She leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on my lips, signaling that the bell was about to ring!
She wrapped her arms around me. My two hands grasped her waist; the way she exhaled upon my touch was erotic. We embraced, and in a matter of minutes, I was ready to burst. I never imagined sensuality like this. My hand reached for the inside of her thigh. At first, she allowed my caressing, but as my fingers inched their way closer and closer, her hand reached down and stopped me.
Instead of the usual long-drawn-out game of cat and mouse, she laid everything out on the table whether or not I liked it, “Ant, I’m a virgin, and I will stay that way till the night I marry.” Instead of teenage desperation, I felt reassured! Now I knew for sure Louie wasn’t there either. She wasn’t very patient, “Is that going to be a problem?” Without hesitation, I blurted out, “No, my love, I respect your wishes and will wait…because Gia, I am going to marry you.” Her eyes became fire in water if you can imagine such a thing. It was a force as reckless as a tornado. Her hand touched my cheek, “I love you so; I can’t wait, Anthony!” My heart was ablaze!
“But soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!—
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she.” (b)
*****
Severely wounded, Saverio, our mighty lion seemed pale, meek, and mild, and simple task of walking up and down the stairs of our home were beyond daunting. Yet I still respected his roar. My mother had set up a hospital bed in the living room, facilitating her frequent trips to the kitchen. During his stay in the hospital, the tacit issues with Sal were placed on the back burner. Now back in his lair, that pot began to simmer again.
Upon his sickness, we put all his customers on notice. He now wanted me to revisit them and assure them the work would be finished, but by whom?
As stubborn as always, my father believed that in a week or two, he could return to the grind of brick and mortar. My mother forbade him from working alone, so she ran an ad in Il Progresso. Saverio knew better, so to appease her, from his hospital bed, he began to go through the futile motions of finding a new apprentice.
I knew now; he accepted the fact that Sal was gone. He turned towards me; I could feel him tightening the noose around my neck. It was a ploy; allow the boy a few more fights, and then become Sal’s replacement. Little did he know, I was already wary of his design.
Sal was graduating from the academy, and my father now had a valid excuse for not attending. Angie and my brother became more than just lovers. They began to speak about marriage. Usually, I would have been leery of such a quick romance, but I knew Angie, and she was the perfect partner for my brother. I never saw him so happy. It’s funny how easily a woman can change a man. When love is real, a woman can lead a man to heights he never imagined. I mused, how many wars were won and lost over a woman; far more than men will ever be willing to admit.
My mother adjusted his tie as though he was still a child; Sal looked great in his cadet’s uniform. He went over to my father’s bed, Saverio had his eyes closed as though he was sleeping, but my mother knew better, “Saverio! Your son is leaving now for his graduation. Why don’t you wish him well?”
He opened his eyes ever so, yet he recognized the man his oldest had become. His knurled hands reached out; Sal rushed in and kissed his fathers’ forehead. Angie and my mother held each other’s hands tight, without a single word spoken; my father had released Sal from any sin and had accepted his path. An enormous weight had been lifted.
My brother floated out of the house; every aspect of his life was near-perfect. All that was left was to begin his own family, work hard his entire life, and then die a happy man — no big deal.
Gia was coming to graduation; my mother adored both her future daughters-in-law. It was exhilarating to witness her with these two young women; she corralled them so effortlessly. They were to be indoctrinated in her ways. I witnessed other families where the soon-to-be betrothed didn’t get along with the mother hen; it can make life so hard for everyone involved. The House of Marino was well in order.
After graduation, the party at our house was overflowing. Vito and Sonny, along with the rest of my friends were in the backyard. With meatball heroes in one hand and a cold one in the other, they surrounded Gia and Angie. These women were now the neighborhood’s young princesses, and no one was to fuck with them.
Izzy was alone in a corner, politely turning down sausage and peppers. My mother was clueless to either fact that there was pork in them thar sausages, or that God’s chosen didn’t partake. Izzy was a sort of celebrity; he had taken more than his fair share of local hoodlums and troublemakers and turned them into champions.
Izzy had Jimmy Shoe’s ear and was bending it sideways, “Anthony will be da next champ if only he listens.” Poor Shoes had a disinterested look, which Izzy took little notice of, “Goddamn kid drives me nuts sometimes, but ya know I love him like a son.”
Finally, Shoes got a word in edgewise, “How could you not, the kids a class act. Not for nothing, but I wanted him to be a barber!”
Izzy sighed, “I never want to see any of them get hurt, but it comes with the territory.” Robusto, who was listening in, threw his two cents in, “Not Anthony, who can touch him?”
Izzy suddenly had a feeling of mortality, “After Anthony becomes champ, I will retire.” The two patted the old trainer on the shoulder as Izzy seemed to gaze off into the distance, “I always wanted to go out west, you know…buffaloes, cowboys, and all that other bullshit.” The two shook their heads enthusiastically in agreement as Izzy continued, “I was thinking Montana, Wyoming, or maybe Scranton.” A clueless Robusto kept shaking his head while the cigar in Shoe’s mouth nearly fell. “I’d even wear a cowboy hat over my yarmulke.” Shoes had too much compassion to rain on Izzy’s parade, “Well Izzy, my ole friend…then, Scranton, it’ll be.”
*****
Vito and Sonny took me aside; they didn’t want Gia and the rest to hear what they would tell me. Vito took the lead, “Ant that fuck Louie is out of the hospital, and he’s talking a lot of shit.”
Sonny added, “Yeah, he said he’s coming to get you and doesn’t care who you’re around.”
“Either do I. If he wants me, he knows where to find me.”
Vito was concerned, “Well that very admirable Fonzie, but this ain’t Happy Days. This guy ain’t going to fight you mano-a-mano, he did that once and look where it got him.”
Sonny chirped in, “Ant, I don’t put it past this guy to come at you with a piece!”
“Look, fellas, I appreciate your fears, but what am I supposed to do?
They answered in unison, “Go to Danny Gallo!”
“Forget it! Not in a million years, I know how these things work, the minute I ask him to do something for me, he’ll be asking me to throw fights.”
My two friends quieted, they knew I was right, but they were concerned for my safety. Vito put his hand around my shoulder, “Since you’re too fucking thick to recognize the impending doom, Sonny and I will protect you.” Vito’s face was flush with anger, “If that fucken hard-on comes-a-calling, we’ll be ready for him.”
At that precise moment, Gia came looking for me, “Ant, my father, is here.” I gazed back at Vito and Sonny as she led me away, they both knew that with both Danny Gallo and Albert Columbo in my corner, who would be that crazy to touch me? My two friends then gazed at one another and answered in harmony, “Baldassari!”
*****
I felt like I could knock a building down. I entered the gym every day as a ferocious lion and roared as I sparred; fewer and fewer fighters wanted to get in with me. I even began cheerfully hopping out of bed when that 5 am wake-me-up chirped. As the old man with a newspaper under his arm raised his fist higher and higher, the neighborhood began to whisper to one another that the kid might really be the next champ.
Gia knew it was fruitless to say anything about me fighting. Nevertheless, she feared for me. I was a creature of habit, so on the morning of the fight, I slept late. When I came down to the kitchen, she was sitting with my mother. They both appeared somber, “Ant, would you be upset if I stayed here with your mother tonight?”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to watch someone else hit you. I can’t see you get hurt. I love you too much.”
My mother chimed in, “è vero (it’s true).” My mother only spoke Italian when she wanted to drive a point home. What could I say, Gia’s concerns were valid, and her angst was palatable. “Ok, sweetheart, whatever you want.” But in reality, it was like someone just pulled the plug on the tub, and all the water was draining. I felt weak and deflated. Why may you ask? Before she became my girlfriend, I was that bull that everyone came to recognize. Yet after, this fierce love for Gia had tamed the wild animal in me. The truth was without her there fueling my ego, I now felt like Samson after Delilah snipped off his locks, but tonight, I had to fight! Somehow, somewhere, I had to find that old mojo.
*****
It was not a locker room brimming with bravado. Instead, this youthful lion felt disconcerted, and worst of all, I felt sorry for myself. I was dejected and rejected! I wanted… no, I needed Gia to witness me on the biggest stage. There was something primal about it, a magnificent stallion strutting his stuff for his mare. The reality was she offered me that “choice” that Izzy had always warned of! She made my life complete, and fighting wasn’t necessary any longer. I stood in front of the toilet; Sal came swaggering in, “Are you praying?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“You know, Ant; I never thanked you.”
“For what?”
“You’ve acted as the elder brother. You got Pop off my back, and it was you who introduced me to Angie…you’re always looking out for me.”
“That’s what brothers are supposed to do, no?”
Sal rubbed my shoulders; the ref interrupted, entering the locker room to check on how my hands were wrapped. Recently a crooked trainer had soaked his fighters’ wraps in plaster of Paris, resulting in horrific injuries. The ref grabbed both hands, carefully examining the wrapping, he removed a marker from his pocket and initialed them. I was now ready for war.
Ralphie knelt before me; he slathered my face with Vaseline, “Are you all right, kid?” I remained silent. It was only minutes before my entrance. As expected, Izzy charged in, and the moment he laid eyes on me, he began hollering, “What da fuck, your ice freaken cold! Ralphie, what are ya doin? Get him up and get him to sweat!”
Ralphie lowered his head, “I’m sorry, Izz,” it wasn’t the first time he took shit for me. Yet Izzy was right; he wanted his fighters warmed up and ready for action when they entered the ring. The last thing he wanted was a fighter to answer the bell and be stiff and sluggish.
Without Gia, I felt oddly disinterested. Sal sensed it too; he slapped me on the shoulder, “Come-on, Ant, what’s up.” I kept eerily silent. I then let out a protracted deep breath and sent out an unmistakable message for the entire room to hear; let’s go out there and get this one over with already. I looked inwardly, Ant had become Anthony, and doubt had replaced a biting fierceness. That strutting peacock had lost its plumes.
Izzy noticed my reluctance, “Look kid, ya better wake-up.” When I lowered my eyes, he fumed, “Don’t quit! Suffer now and live your life as a champion!” Suddenly, from the doorway, I heard that familiar chime, “Marino, you’re next!”
Next up to enter the arena to the cheers and jeers of the mob. Boxing crowds resented true expositions of the sweet science. Instead, they demanded that someone be broken beyond repair and left lying on the canvas to be counted out as they stuffed their faces with hot dogs and washed them down with countless cold ones. It was only the blood and gore that satisfied the mob, and to be successful in this game…you had to know how to feed them.
I’m a fighter…I’m a fighter…I’m a…
My thinking was shallow and cursory with little behind. Where was that ferociousness? I knew it was deep inside, somewhere, but it was bruised and battered and was playing a treacherous game of “hide and seek.”
In boxing’s Book of Etiquette, it’s the champion, or the more successful veteran, who enters the ring last, forcing the challenger to stand around and wait for him. While I wasn’t the champ yet, I was the local draw, so the powers to be, decided I would enter second, and Jimmy Weeden took a significant exception to it.
As the trumpets echoed, I entered the fabled Forum for the very first time as a pro. Over five thousand packed it, and their deafening cheers were wholly for the hometown kid. I tried to forget Gia’s absence and utilize the energy from the crowd. I rediscovered my boun
ce. Outwardly I looked my old self, but inwardly, I struggled with apprehension. Gia became that forewarned distraction. That interference had made me lose focus, and I could now see clearly what lie in the peripheral;
Why must I do this any longer?
Barbecuing for a wife and children was much safer!
Tameness and civility are fatal diseases to a fighter, and in its most advanced stages, it causes you to question, and now confusion was assaulting me from every direction.
As the ref gave his hasty instruction, I peered into Weeden’s eyes; they were wildly savage without a hint of fear. His rage caused him to growl, and for the first time in my career, I was the one to glance down at the canvas.
Oh my God, what did I just do?
I was frightened, and I didn’t know how to handle it. (Please someone get me out of here!) Things were moving so fast. The ref barked, “Touch gloves and come out fighting!” The frenzied mob roared! (Wait, I’m not ready! Can’t we do this later?) Ralphie shoved the mouthpiece in, while Izzy, unrestrained, was wildly screaming instructions! My eyes looked about, for what? She wasn’t there! (Panic!) The ref hollered, “Seconds out!” (More panic!) Things were whirling round and round; I couldn’t hear a single word that Izzy said and…
The bell rang!
(My God, there’s no turning back now. Please someone rescue me!)
We danced about for a few seconds, but for the first time, I felt like the prey, and he looked every bit the part of the ferocious beast.
Maybe the fear will dissipate after I experience that first blow? He’s only a man, and God knows I have beaten enough of those.
He threw a vicious hook; I never saw it coming; it hit me square on my left temple. The punch was crushing and hurt terribly, unlike any blow I have ever felt before. The ring began spinning slowly at first, but then it gained speed, faster and faster, I couldn’t stop it. He was chasing after me as I stumbled into my corner, he was landing more and more punches, but they seemed almost muffled. He sensed a quick end; he threw punch after punch. As I spun back and forth, I could barely make out the images of the crowd; they must be calling for me to retaliate! But no! They clamored for my demise! High-pitched howls of “He’s a bum!” were mixed with chants of “Come-on Weeden, knock him out!”
Say Goodbye and Goodnight Page 10
