Freddie Norwood
I was very depressed when I read about Freddie Norwood’s knockout loss to Donnie Edwards on the Wednesday Night Fights. I used to manage Freddie when he was an unbeaten and (for a short while) unbeatable junior featherweight.
More than with any other fighter I’ve managed, Freddie Norwood’s career was one where cultural subtext played an influential role in contributing to his lack of success (and I say this although Freddie won the featherweight championship twice.)
Because he was small, black (black specifically in an East St. Louis-limited-access-to-white-people kind of way), taciturn, and consummately efficient in the ring, it was nearly impossible to get fights for him, no matter the terms.
I had a standing offer to all of the major promoters and TV guys that, if the opponent weighed 130 or less, they needn't bother asking me whether Norwood would take the fight: the answer would automatically be yes.
Even with that kind of open-ended proposal in place, almost nothing materialized. I’d get brave sounding phone calls asking whether we’d take chump change to fight some high-profile prospect or other. I’d always agree to the terms (knowing that, for a guy like Norwood, there’d never be any money until there was no choice but to pay him real money) and caution the guy making the offer that the other side would back out.
When the other side did back out, I’d ask why not drop Fighter X and keep Freddie? We all know the answer to that question.
Under the circumstances, it was almost inevitable that Norwood’s career would never completely develop. He was too much like the great black unwanted fighters of the 1930s, 40s, and 50s--too good, too subtly efficient and too culturally defined as “bad” black—black without crossover appeal.
By the time Norwood won the featherweight title, he was already a couple of years past his best. It says something about his level of proficiency that he was able to beat Juan Manual Marquez long after he’d hit his prime.
And it makes me wonder what a fighter like Freddie Norwood might have been if he’d been allowed to develop under more salubrious conditions. At 122, he was a better fighter than Floyd Mayweather has been at any weight (and a similar fighter, maybe not surprisingly.) It’s a moot point; he’s finished now and we’ll never find out.
I think a lot of the best fighters fade on the vine, unseen and kept far away from their less dangerous, more telegenic counterparts.
posted by Charles Farrell @ 8:21 AM
6 comments
6 Comments:
"I think a lot of the best fighters fade on the vine, unseen and kept far away from their less dangerous, more telegenic counterparts."
CHARLES, THAT STATEMENT SAYS SO MUCH. IT'S ACTUALLY A SUBCULTURE OF BOXING THAT NOT MANY KNOW IT EXIST, LET ALONE THE FIGHTERS WHO IT EN CAPSULES.
We like to romanticize the notion of an outsider denied acceptance because of a perceived prejudice or cultural role - easy to do in an America where the abstraction of fairness and justness means so much.
But the thing about Norwood and the reason I love boxing is that he got his chance to prove himself in the ring and did so admirably defeating luminaries like Juan Manuel Marquez and Juan Pablo Chacon.
I've played with and been friends with plenty of tremendous (perhaps not world class like Norwood) athletes who've been deemed "a cultural subtext" and ignored by collegiate football coaches and NCAA standards and have thus been caught up in the ridiculous politics of team sports.
And while the career withering of Norwood occurred at least he was given a chance to shine in the ring. A chance that happened only because in boxing the one on one competition decides who can compete rather than a coach.
I don't necessarily believe it's a subculture of boxing that deems fighters unworthy of a chance. In fact its a subculture of athletic competition of which boxing is a lot more meritocratic and a lot fairer than other American choices.
Venerableseed: I think you missed my point. All I'll say is that there are a lot of potential greats who never got a shot at a title for one reason or another. That's the subculture I meant.
Venerableseed, I don't follow sports and so can't judge boxing's meritocracy in relation to them. But I don't subscribe to the notion that, in boxing, if you're good enough, you'll have your chance to rise to the top. I don't think this is a case of romanticizing the notion of an outsider denied acceptance because of a perceived prejudice or cultural role. The lack of coaches making decisions as to who does and doesn't play isn't the only thing that would prevent a great fighter from getting opportunities. The conditions that exist during a fighter's career up until the moment he's inside the ring (and often even once he's finally made it there) all have bearing as to how even the field is once the fight takes place. I think I'm trying to say that things aren't quite so simple as, "Once the two fighters are finally in the ring, their chances become exactly equal; the better man will win." The fight doesn't begin or end with the fight.
Take a moment like Glen Johnson's defeat of Roy Jones Jr. You could look at it and say, "See, in the end the deserving guy dropped the media darling and got his due," but you could also say, "This is what their two boxing lives were shaped to not allow to happen: Johnson was put in the hole by having to fight homestanding favorites and not make much money, and Jones worked it out so that for most of his boxing life he was the favorite, made the big money, and protected himself from having to deal with difficult tough guys on even ground. It's too late to say that all is now right in the world; the two men have already been launched on the lives they have led, and the KO doesn't reverse that or even put it right, as satisfying as it may be to see." I would lean toward the latter reading of the fight. It doesn't mean that Johnson is better than Jones in any moral sense--Jones was good at protecting his interests, among other things, and I can admire that--but it's not romanticizing Johnson to say that he fought uphill and from outside, in comparison to Jones.
Another aspect is that there are fighters who are not pushed by promoters and networks yet who are far more deserving of notoriety than others who get that push.
At heavyweight, in March, John Ruiz dominated Jameel McCline, who had knocked down WBC champion Sam Peter three times last year before fading. But Ruiz is not getting any title shot, not even a rematch with Chagaev or Valuev, both of whom won close, suspect decisions over Ruiz, and who are themselves having a rematch July 5. Instead, the WBC and, apparently, HBO seem intent on putting Vitali Klitschko, who just lost in his bid to be elected mayor of Kiev, and hasn’t fought since 2004, into an immediate title fight with Peter.
At cruiserweight, IBF champ Steve Cunningham of the boxing nation of Philadelphia has had his last three fights in Europe, lost a controversial decision to Krzysztof Wlodarczyk which he avenged in his next fight, and can’t get into any of these unification matches which are so popular in this underrated division. His promoter, Don King, either can not or does not want to get him a big deal with an American network, who are the real promoters these days.
At light heavyweight, again, Glen Johnson should have been awarded a victory over WBC champ Chad Dawson in April, and, now at age 39, must again go to the back of the line for a title shot.
I could go division by division, but there are fighters like Joan Guzman, Jorge Linares, Steve Molitor, and many more who are not getting deserved pushes, especially in America.
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