Preface
Late last Sunday night at the Turning Stone Casino, well
after Roy Jones Jr.’s rap performance brought down the house at the conclusion
of the International Boxing Hall of Fame induction ceremony, the Emerald
Restaurant was the only eatery still open for business.
I was beyond privileged to attend the 2022 Trilogy
weekend as a special guest of women’s boxing trailblazer, 2021 IBHOF inductee,
and my very dear friend ‘Lady Tyger’ Trimiar, as well as her home health aide
Carmen who, as Tyger expressed in her acceptance speech, is not just her
caregiver but a surrogate daughter. We weren’t ready to let the experience end
just yet, so off we went to the Emerald dining room for post-induction food and
drinks along with Lady Tyger’s friend and attorney Cecilia.
To our pleasant surprise, we weren’t the only ones hanging
onto the weekend for as long as we could make possibly make it last. Sue Fox
was there, reveling in the moment, and Bonnie Mann too. Bonnie is a familiar
face to anyone who has attended the Hall of Fame induction festivities. An
eight-year veteran of the prize ring and 2021 inductee into the International Women’s
Boxing Hall of Fame, she fought Holly Holm in her second pro bout (which was
also only the fourth fight in the burgeoning career of ‘The Preacher’s
Daughter, who won a four-round decision), and challenged Elizabeth Mooney for
the WBE welterweight title in 2007.
It was so very nice to once again see ‘The Island Girl’
Sumya Anani, a four-time world champion in three divisions, and three-time
bantamweight titleholder ‘Sweet Magic’ Eva Jones-Young, who traveled to
Canastota from Kansas and Indiana, respectively, just to attend this historic
event. Last, but certainly not least, the lovely and legendary 92-year-old
pioneer Barbara Buttrick was enjoying everyone’s company with her friend and
biographer Jimmy Finn, a brilliant Irish gentleman who is about as affable as
they come.
Upon our arrival, Lady Tyger joined this intimate and
unplanned gathering of her peers and, naturally, everyone’s phones came out for
an impromptu photo session in the entrance to the Emerald Restaurant. Sumya
Anani’s battery had died, but she didn’t want to leave without getting a photo
with Lady Tyger. I happily offered to snap some pictures with my phone and text
them to her.
I couldn’t help but ask Jimmy Finn to please take one
last photo of me and Barbara after first sitting down at their table so that I
could tell her how moved I was by her induction speech and what a thrill it was
for me to meet her after admiring her for so many years and never dreaming I
would get the opportunity.
It wasn’t until the wee hours of the morning when I was
scrolling through the pictures I had taken that day back in my crappy room at
the Motel 6 in East Syracuse that I was struck by the historic relevance of
that group photo consisting of Barbara Buttrick, Lady Tyger, Sue Fox, Bonnie
Mann, Sumya Anani, and Eva Jones-Young, collectively embodying generations of
remarkable trailblazing female prizefighters in the same place at the same time
for the same purpose of celebrating being in one another’s presence. The fact
that I got to witness scenes like this, and many more like them, throughout the
course of my four-day adventure is not at all lost on me.
I’m not sure I am equal to the task of effectively communicating
the profound nature of how the entire weekend played out, not to mention my
gratitude toward the incredible people with whom I shared it, but I’ll take a
swing at it.
Wednesday June 8, 2022
I used to begin my annual treks up to Canastota from Long
Island with a Thursday morning alarm at the ungodly hour of 3:30 so that I
would arrive at around 9am to meet up with my friend Len in the Hall of Fame
parking lot. Even before Covid hit, postponing the last two inductions, I
missed the previous two years thanks to money and/or car problems. Since my
last visit in 2017, I turned 50 and the thought of dragging my sorry carcass
out of bed that early became all the more unappealing. To quote Danny Glover
from Lethal Weapon, “I’m getting too old for this shit.”
The decision to head up a day early turned out to be a
wise one, and my commute was leisurely and relatively hassle-free. Check-in at
the Motel 6 was followed by lugging my stuff inside and heading out to bring
back some not half-bad pizza which I ate while trying and failing to find
something entertaining to watch on the ten available channels. I put in a call
to Lady Tyger to let her know I arrived safe and sound and see how the
last-minute preparations for her and Carmen’s trip the next morning were coming
along.
With the air conditioner cranking at full capacity, I
drifted off to sleep in the third quarter of the Celtics/Warriors NBA Finals
game and got what would turn out to be my only decent night’s rest of my entire
stay. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I was well aware that this was going
to be a once in a lifetime experience which would call for late nights and
early mornings, and I resolved myself not begrudgingly to the fact that a
proper sleep would have to wait until I got back home if I was going to make
the absolute most of it.
Thursday June 9, 2022
I always look forward to Hall of Fame weekend, but this
year was special and not just because three classes of inductees were being
enshrined simultaneously. Of particular significance this time around was that
the International Boxing Hall of Fame would be presenting rings and plaques to
female boxers and non-participants for the first time in its 32-year existence.
People may wonder, and some have in fact asked, why I
have dedicated myself with such passion to the advocacy of women’s boxing. The
first time I responded to that question, my answer came organically and without
forethought, taking even me by surprise.
The short answer is that my hero has always been, and
forever will be, Clare Szczygiel. Please indulge me as I elaborate. I was
extremely close to my Mom, who was forced to assume the dual role of mother and
father because my old man was not much of a physical presence in our lives, and
when he was around the house was filled with tension and dread for fear of what
might transpire as a result of his alcoholism and generally ill-tempered moods.
Mom went above and beyond to ensure that my two brothers and I were clothed,
fed, educated, and entertained. I still honestly don’t know how she made it
happen, but she did.
Besides suffering the abuse and neglect of a loveless
marriage, there were the financial hardships that followed the divorce and lack
of child support payments. More than likely because of the relentless stress
and anxiety that took a hellish toll on her, Mom’s health took a serious turn
for the worse when I was fifteen. A long-undiagnosed heart aneurysm brought
about complications in the form of total renal failure, necessitating dialysis
treatments three times a week for the rest of her life. I offered one of my
kidneys, but her aneurysm made the possibility of a transplant too risky. Back
in the late 1980s, the life expectancy of a dialysis patient was seven years.
She survived for twelve, until lung, liver, and bone cancer ultimately took her
from us. Mom was only 50, younger than I am now.
Despite the physical and emotional punishment she endured
throughout her life, I never once saw Mom hang her head and cry “why me?”
Instead, every time life knocked her on her ass, she picked herself off the
floor, regrouped, and got back to taking care of business. We are all fighting
for something, and I can draw a direct parallel line between my Mom’s existential
struggles and those of the women who have had to battle tirelessly outside the
ring just to be able to step between the ropes. I hope that makes sense.
When I first began to delve into the history of women’s
boxing, two individuals resonated with me more than any others—Lady Tyger
Trimiar and Barbara Buttrick. I have had the distinct honor of befriending Lady
Tyger after writing a feature story on her in October 2020. To know that I
would be getting to share the induction experience with Tyger was a dream come
true for me, and getting the opportunity to meet Barbara Buttrick was the icing
on the cake.
Unfortunately, my friend Len’s wife Jan has been
experiencing heart issues and had a procedure scheduled for Thursday morning
which meant that he would obviously be by her side and unable to meet up with
me. He assured me that, as long as all went well, he would do his best to make
it to the hall the following day and to the fights at the Turning Stone that
night. I wished them both the best, asked Len to please keep me posted, got
some coffee, and headed over to Canastota to get the festivities under way.
Thursday is generally a very relaxed, informal kind of
day with fans and fighters trickling in a few at a time. Indeed, Lady Tyger’s
Amtrak train wasn’t due in until late that afternoon, so I was on my own until
then. As a tribute to Marvelous Marvin Hagler, the antique car he would always
ride in during the Parade of Champions through downtown Canastota was on
display on the Hall of Fame grounds. I got to chat with fellow women’s boxing
historian Mark Jones and former trainer Aaron Snowell in the morning hours of
this rainy, breezy opening day.
Off in the distance, I could identify Sue Fox scampering
about taking dozens of photos and immediately ran over to introduce myself. It
hopefully goes without saying how instrumental Sue, herself a trailblazing
prizefighter, has been in preserving the history of women’s boxing and keeping
the momentum going through the present day and into the future. On a personal
and reciprocal level, she has been incredibly supportive of me and
complimentary toward my writing which I am humbled by and very thankful for.
Accompanied by Britt Van Buskirk, a generation-spanning
female prizefighter from 1979 to 2003 who I also got to meet for the first
time, Sue was doing a quick drive-by of the Hall of Fame grounds on her way to
get checked in at her hotel. We would get to reconnect later that evening, but
due to an often hectic schedule and unfortunately bad timing, I never did get
to cross paths with Britt again over the weekend.
Shortly before the 3pm Opening Ceremonies, Christy Martin
made her first appearance to sign autographs, pose for photos, and give a
Ringside Lecture. Her autobiography Fighting For Survival (written with
journalist and fellow Hall of Fame inductee Ron Borges) had just been released
the day before, and Christy had a small handful of copies on hand. I waited on
line to buy her book which she signed for me, as well as her induction program
and two trading cards, and got to say hello once again to Christy’s wife and
one-time opponent Lisa Holewyne, who kindly autographed my copy of Malissa
Smith’s book A History of Women’s Boxing. Malissa was sadly unable to
attend and was missed for sure, but she was there in spirit and I think it’s
safe to say we all felt it.
By this time, Lady Tyger let me know that she and Carmen
had arrived, so I drove over to the nearby Turning Stone Casino and Hotel to
hang out for a little while prior to the inductee’s welcome dinner. Sue Fox
dropped by Tyger’s room beforehand and got to spend time with her boxing “sister”
which was great for the both of them to share and for me to get to see.
The autograph hounds were out in full force down in the
Turning Stone lobby. Don’t get me wrong, a large percentage of the fun I
experience during Hall of Fame weekend is derived from taking away treasured keepsakes
of my meaningful interactions with the fighters by way of autographs or photos,
or hopefully both. These keepsakes are strictly meant for me with no intention
whatsoever of selling them. The same is true of the genuine fans gathered in
Canastota every June. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for everyone
across the board.
After a while, you can spot the memorabilia dealers and eBay
guys from a mile away. It doesn’t take long to learn to identify them by their
Rubbermaid tubs full of boxing gloves and stacks of laser-printed 8x10s
awaiting signatures for resale, as well as by their irksome persistence and
sometimes crass behavior. Marvin Hagler was always wise to them. Lenox Lewis,
Julio Cesar Chavez, Ray Mancini, and Wladimir Klitschko are just a few of the boxers
who grew weary of, and even irate at, the flagrant rudeness of these “bozos”
(as Len and I refer to them) that very often ruin it for the rest of us and
give the true fans hoping for autographs a bad name as a result of mere guilt
by proximity. Just ask Bernard Hopkins. Anyone who happened to be on the Hall
of Fame grounds Saturday knows what I’m talking about.
On our way to the welcome dinner, Lady Tyger had her
first, but by no means last, encounter with one such bozo who has been on my
shit list long before this weekend. He had obtained her address in the not too
distant past and mailed a selection of photos for her to autograph and return. She
didn’t, and I made her aware of who he was and what kind of reputation he had.
Despite the fact that we were legitimately running late,
she was happy to stop and oblige a few autograph requests when he materialized with
an induction program for Tyger to sign. She did, after which he pulled out
three identical 8x10s, demanding “and now these too.” Before I could even give
her shoulder a gentle but knowing squeeze, she gave me a look as if to say, “this
is that guy, isn’t it?” I interjected, saying we had to be going as she was
expected at the dinner which was already in progress.
“I hear it’s not starting until 7:30,” he chimed in, as
if he were the event organizer and not a common vulture. I wanted to tell him
to “fuck off” but I bit my tongue and simply told Tyger we had to go. Carmen agreed,
probably sensing the unspoken tension in the air, and we left him no doubt
fuming at being rebuffed.
As Lady Tyger’s guest, I was granted special access to
the inductee-and-family-only events. The interactions I was privileged to share
with the dozens of esteemed boxers gathered together for the event I would
otherwise never have gotten to experience. This sort of intimate camaraderie
was a first for me and something for which I will be eternally grateful to have
been a part of.
Tyger knew Iran Barkley from the neighborhood back in the
day and fought his sister Yvonne twice, so I was happy to bring him over to
reunite with her for the first time in decades. Iran said he tried to get
Yvonne to come with him, but she couldn’t make it. Marlon Starling stopped at
our table and spent a good deal of time getting to know Tyger.
It was amazing to see so many folks come by unasked to
say hello and congratulations to Lady Tyger, and I know how much their many
kindnesses meant to her. Lou DiBella, Holly Holm, Regina Halmich, ‘Sugar’ Shane
Mosley, Terence Crawford, Shawn Porter, James Toney, and Roy Jones Jr. were
just a few of the men and women who went out of their way to shake her hand,
pose for pictures, and swap stories or at least offer a few words by way
introduction. I was completely unprepared for the meaningful impact Roy Jones
Jr. would have on our weekend. More on that in later installments. For now,
suffice it to say Roy is one of those people who says what he means and means
what he says, from his heart to yours. He couldn’t be a greater guy in my book.
Barbara Buttrick just so happened to be seated at the
table next to ours with her longtime friend Jimmy Finn who co-founded the WIBF
with Barbara in 1993 and is currently working on her biography. Jimmy and I had
communicated through Facebook but never met in person until he escorted Barbara
over to our table. The pairings of Jimmy and Barbara, and Tyger and I, had a
special dynamic, like boxing kismet, and we quickly developed a neat writer and
fighter kind of connection among one another.
Having recently been hospitalized with Covid at the age
of 92, Barbara’s attendance was in serious doubt until Jimmy confirmed just
days before the kickoff to the weekend that she had quickly bounced back and they
would in fact be making the trip. That tells you everything you need to know
about Barbara’s strength and resilience in a nutshell.
No words can adequately describe my first meeting with
the legendary Barbara Buttrick, the ‘Mighty Atom of the Ring’ who fought all
comers—male and female—in carnival boxing booths across the English countryside
in the postwar 1940s before contributing extraordinarily to the remapping
efforts of the nearly desolate American landscape of women’s prizefighting in
the 50s.
Possibly better than getting to meet her myself was
bearing witness to the first time fellow trailblazers Barbara Buttrick and Lady
Tyger had ever come face to face. Barbara sat down beside Tyger and these two
amazing women got to talk and laugh together as if rekindling a lifelong
friendship. This experience was so profound that I’m in no way embarrassed to
admit I was moved emotionally to the point of tears for the first of many times
throughout the weekend.
Holly Holm and Regina Halmich rejoined us for a group
picture, and there was an encore photo-op with these tremendous women when Ann
Wolfe showed up shortly after. Lady Tyger wanted to go over and introduce
herself to Michael Spinks before the party broke up for the time being, and we
all took photos with the 1976 Olympic gold medalist and former light-heavy and
heavyweight champion.
After seeing Tyger and Carmen back to their room and
thanking them both for a memorable evening, I drove the half hour back to East
Syracuse where sleep eluded me as I replayed the events of the day over and
over again in my awestruck mind. And there was so very much yet to come.
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