The Real Deal: Boxing's Ultimate Warrior

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Please read the opening chapter of The Real Deal: Boxing's Ultimate Warrior, out on 03rd October 2021 and let me know your thoughts in the comments section.

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Chubby

 

Evander Holyfield was born in Atmore, Alabama on 19^th October 1962. The southern Alabama mill town, about two miles from the Florida border, was pleasant and industrious and far removed from nearby Montgomery which endured riots in the stormy 1960s.

          Holyfield was the youngest of nine siblings, eight of them living as his older brother, Jimmy, died after childbirth of pneumonia. Bernard Holyfield was a year older than Evander and the two became inseparable, growing up together and getting into countless mishaps throughout their childhood.

          Raised in the deep south by their mother, Annie Laura Riggen, who was born in Atlanta in July 1928. Aged fifteen, she married Joseph Holyfield until the couple divorced in 1953. After the divorce, Joseph would move to Michigan to start again.

Soon after, Annie received a letter from her relatives in Alabama that her mother, Pearlie Beatrice Hatton, had suffered a stroke and was close to death. She immediately packed her things and moved her family to Atmore.

Pearlie, or Grandma Hatton, was a strong, spiritual and determined woman and thanks to the care she received from Annie, started to recover. She became strong enough to look after the growing Holyfield brood when Annie went to work.

          The Holyfield family were a bunch of hard workers, putting their backs into whatever jobs Atmore had to offer; from cotton picking to pecan harvesting, restaurant cooking and waitressing; the Holyfields would graft from sunrise to sunset.

          Annie would meet Evander’s father, Isom Coley, in Atmore. He was a lumberjack by trade and hauled the timber for the local mills. He was a hardworking and well respected man. He was physically strong and would win bets by lifting the front of cars clean off the ground - he never lost. Annie described him as a dark-skinned, robust, quiet and gentle man. Holyfield got his spiritual strength from his mother and inherited his father’s work ethic.

          The two planned to get married, but an irreconcilable dispute erupted between them and their relationship came to a sudden and abrupt end, whilst Annie was carrying young Evander. As Annie still carried her married Holyfield name, she passed it down to her children.

          The name Evander was suggested to her by a friend who was reading about a hero of the same name in Roman mythology. He was the son of Mercury and born in Greece, carrying the name Euandros, meaning good man or strong man. Euandros went to what is now Italy and founded a new city on the site where Rome would rise, becoming King Evander.

          Young Holyfield hated both his names as they were unusual and the other kids would tease him about them. One of his mother’s good friends was called Chubby and his brothers and sisters found the name hysterical. As Holyfield was as thin as a rake, they decided to call him Chubby. He actually preferred Chubby to Evander and insisted on his teachers to refer to him by that name, with some of them obliging.

          In his later life, especially when he started to discover his spiritual side, he began to appreciate his names. Evander is an unusual name in America, but when he visited Greece for the 2004 Olympics the people there loved to open up baby book names and show him.

          Holyfield lived on 81 King Street in Atmore in a little rundown bungalow. Though it was regarded as a little nothing of a house, to Holyfield the child it seemed huge and homely.

          He and Bernard were the babies of the family and when the other siblings were at work or school, the two brothers would roam the streets, playing with the other kids of the neighbourhood.

          Annie was a devout Christian, who tried to live her life by the teachings of the Bible, instilling discipline upon the family, ensuring each of her brood worked hard to accomplish a better life for themselves.

          Grandma Hatton was confined to a wheelchair after her stroke, but she still had bags of energy and found ways to burn it off, usually by disciplining Bernard and Evander. She did it with a lot of enthusiasm and old-time religion.

          Grandma would usually pinch Holyfield’s arm, her idea of giving him a "whupping," though he didn’t mind that too much, it was the religious lectures that drove him insane. As Grandma would go on, Holyfield could hear the other children outside playing, laughing and having fun. The young boy couldn’t wait to go out and join in and without thinking would stop her from her lecture and say: "Can’t you just go ahead and pinch me already so I can go back outside."

          When Holyfield was four years old the family moved to Atlanta and stayed with JoAnn, Annie’s eldest daughter. JoAnn’s house already had five people living in it and with the Holyfield brood coming, the total occupancy in the four-bedroom house was fourteen. The Holyfields soon found work, being taught from an early age that a job wasn’t just a pay-cheque, it was a privilege.

          Atlanta was a big city compared to Atmore, meaning Grandma got even more protective of Bernard and Evander roaming the streets finding kids to play with. This meant more discipline from her.

          The strictness that Grandma Hatton brought to the family didn’t just bring law and order, it helped mould emerging characters that were budding through the house. The obvious talent was Willie Holyfield, the artist. Without any formal training, he could pick up a pencil and transform the blank page into a recognisable face, or carve a squirrel with his pocket-knife. Grandma would warn the children about their abilities saying that they should be used and developed. "God didn’t give you all these gifts so you could sit on them and be lazy," she said. "He expects you to use your time wisely and develop them to His glory. He gave the gifts to you, but it’s up to you to do the polishing. And every day that you don’t polish your talent, you lose a piece of it."

          This resonated with young Evander, where Willie didn’t polish his talents, Holyfield made sure he put in the time and effort to help his own talents blossom.

          It was in 1968 where the athletic abilities of a six-year-old Holyfield came to the forefront. He and Bernard would often frequent the corner of Connally and Georgia Avenue. One afternoon, Evander’s classmate asked if he wanted to go with him to the Warren Memorial Boy’s Club, the place to be if you were athletic.

          Evander and Bernard had to convince their mother to let them have money for the annual membership and the bus fare to get them there. It was going to be a tough negotiation with the sceptical Annie, but along with the multitude of sporting activities, the boys club offered Bible studies on a Saturday morning. That was the clincher and Annie gave her blessing and the means for the two young brothers to join.

          Warren Memorial Boy’s Club’s two-storey building housed an Olympic sized swimming pool, an NBA regulation basketball court, a boxing ring, a games room offering pool tables, hockey tables, shuffleboards and pinball machines, a library, a woodwork shop, an arts and crafts centre and a music room for choral and instrumental practice. Their outdoor amenities were also impressive; a regulation size baseball diamond and a field that doubled for American and British football.

          The brothers were in sports heaven and signed up for baseball, basketball and British football, though it was American football that had Evander’s attention.

          He joined the 65-pound (29.48 KG) football team, coached by Alex Stone, playing offensive fullback and middle linebacker on defence. His natural ability soon came into focus as he averaged 300 yards (274.3 metres) and four touchdowns a game. He also excelled in baseball, basketball and British football.

          Practice fascinated young Holyfield and he would constantly set himself goals to beat. One of his childhood dreams was to play for his beloved Atlanta Falcons. He was obsessed about the team, especially his favourite player, Dave Hamilton, who donned the number 43 jersey. Many in the family believed that pro football would be Holyfield’s destiny. That was until the eight-year-old Holyfield would stumble into the forbidden realms of the boxing club.

          After an intense football practice, Holyfield ventured off to the "off limits" area behind the basketball courts. This section was fenced off and was exclusive to the Warren Memorial Boxing Team.

          The young boy would go to the fence and watch the select few go through their paces. He was mesmerised by the boys shadow boxing and dancing around the roped boxing ring. The sound of leather hitting leather called out to him as did the sound of the speedball getting hit with fast hands.

          Holyfield could no longer suppress his urge and stepped into the forbidden zone. He fixed his eyes on the dangling speedball and clenched his right fist, determined to whack the suspended ball with all his might. He threw a wild swing, missing the target by a mile. "Hey, you! Kid! Get outta here!" said the gruff voice of Carter Morgan, the boxing coach.

          "I want to hit it!" protested Holyfield, who wasn’t intimidated by the short, pudgy, fifty-year-old man confronting him.

          "Don’t hit the speed bag. Try that big one," he said pointing to the heavy bag in the corner.

          The young boy hit the leather bag, suspended from the ceiling, as hard as he could with his bare knuckles. Pain shot up his arm and Carter Morgan couldn’t help but laugh. At that moment Holyfield approached the coach and said: "Mr. Morgan, I wanna join the boxing team."

          "Young ‘un," he said, looking Holyfield straight in the eyes, "you gotta be real tough to be on the boxing team." As Carter Morgan walked off, Holyfield made a promise to himself that he would be tough enough to get on the team.

          Eventually, the Holyfield family moved out of JoAnne’s house on Connally Street, a five-minute drive from their sister’s, into a smaller place on Cherokee Avenue. Though it was smaller, the house was less crowded and the new neighbourhood also meant the boys had to move schools, transferring from E.P Johnson Elementary to the newly integrated W.F Slaton Grade School.

          Every day, Holyfield would return to the boxing club, pestering coach Morgan to join the team. The coach had seen this many times before; an enthusiastic boy would get on the team, only to quit once the initial interest had faded. Eventually, Holyfield’s persistence had won dividends, as Carter Morgan allowed Holyfield to train, even letting him hit the speed bag, though he had to stand on a stool to reach it.

          Carter offered Holyfield some pointers on positioning and how to anticipate the speed bag. Once the young boy had mastered that, Morgan allowed him on the heavy bag, showing him the right way to hit it without harming himself. After a few days he’d show him how to hit the bag harder and how to balance himself while throwing punches. Holyfield would also get into conditioning by jumping rope, calisthenics and running.

          Morgan’s attention to Holyfield lured the young boy into the ring, finally finding the father figure in his life he so desperately coveted. He did anything the coach asked; jumping rope until his arms and legs were spent, spar the toughest boys available and lift weights, repetition after repetition, just to get a wink of recognition from the coach, which meant you earned it, as coach Morgan didn’t give out compliments unless they were deserved. The feeling Holyfield got when he earned some praise was out of this world and it motivated him to try even harder.

          The young boy worked at boxing until exhaustion and when he sparred for the first time he realised how quickly it sapped his stamina.

          Between the age of eight and eleven, Holyfield stayed undefeated under Morgan’s tutelage. Though Holyfield’s first love was still American Football, the young child was a two-sport athlete. Carter Morgan recognised a rare talent in his student that only comes around every so often. When his star pupil beat an exceptionally tough junior divisional champion, coach Morgan embraced his charge, saying: "Young ‘un, one day you’re gonna be champ of the world."

          Holyfield was elated and went home repeating the words over and over. Though he was a talented athlete, his small frame would let him down. The football coaches would look at his size, rather than his talents, meaning his dream of playing in the NFL would be virtually impossible, though it never stopped him trying harder.

          He tried out with the Fulton High School Red Birds, knowing an impressive performance record in high school and college football would attract the pro teams. Though his 110 pounds (49.90 KG) frame put off the coaches, his sheer determination persuaded them to give him a chance. He made the team, seldom getting a chance on the field, which pushed him further into boxing.

          Coach Morgan, seeing the potential in the now sixteen-year-old Holyfield, pushed him beyond his limits, forcing him through daily regimes that weeded out the time wasters and created warriors.

          Holyfield was subjected to the introductory class of the Southeastern Boxing Division. His first ranking fight was for the novice title. Once secured he moved on to the open level.

          The adolescent had bags of natural physical talent, it was the wisdom that came with experience and conditioning he lacked. The Open Division separated the men from the boys, Holyfield had many one-sided performances up until now, which quickly singled him out to be the amateur to watch.

          Again, he breezed through the 147 pounds (66.68 KG) category, until he came across an opponent named Jackie Winters. It looked like another easy win for the Atlanta based boxer, until Winters put Holyfield down and nearly out in the second round, clinging on to secure a close points decision, despite the knockdown.

          Holyfield eventually came unstuck in his next fight against Rockdale County’s Cecil Collins. Both lads traded punch for punch in the opening round, with Holyfield usually bowling over his opponent without much coming back. Collins was made of sterner stuff, taking what Holyfield had to give and landing some of his own punches.

          They continued their brawl in the second, until out of frustration of not getting Collins out of there, he picked up the Rockdale County boxer and threw him across the ring, earning an instant disqualification.

          On his return to an irate Coach Morgan, Holyfield began to explain his logic, "Coach, you told me to beat him up so I was trying to beat him up."

          Holyfield prepared diligently for the rematch and both boys picked up from where they left off, refusing to give ground. After three rounds the contest went to the judges, who saw Collins as the victor. Holyfield, well accustomed to seeing his beaten rivals cry afterwards, now knew what it was like to lose, as he turned on the waterworks.

          For Holyfield to progress past the Open Division he had to face and defeat Collins. He gave his all to Carter Morgan, pummelling the heavy bag like never before and sparring his teammates with equal gusto. The coach was studying him like never before, correcting his balance and turning any small weakness into his biggest strength, turning his protégé into a well-oiled machine who oozed perfection from every pore.

          Holyfield and Collins squared up again, throwing leather in another gruelling three round contest. The judges couldn’t split them, giving it to Holyfield on his sheer heart and determination. He learned a valuable lesson in this contest, not to let his mind wander from the task in hand, realising any crisis is ten percent physical and ninety percent spiritual.

          The victory put the Atlanta resident on a path towards the State Division. Unfortunately for Holyfield, it would be the final time Coach Morgan would be in his corner. His trainer, mentor, friend and father figure, who had been in Holyfield’s life since he was eight, was suffering from chronic effects of pulmonary emphysema. "How can I go on without Mr. Morgan?"

          The passing of Carter Morgan seemed to knock the fight out of Holyfield, who found it a struggle to step foot back in the Boys Club gym. Holyfield then realised that if a sick Coach Morgan invested what little time he had left on him then he owed it to the deceased trainer to carry on and not let the last eight years be a complete waste.

          Carter Morgan’s son Ted took over the reins and worked with Holyfield over the next two years. They went through the State Division, winning more trophies along the way. Holyfield also gained his high school diploma and landed his first full time job at Epps Airport, servicing commuter planes.

          Holyfield was too old for the Boy’s Club after graduating from high school. The cost of fighting was also increasing the further up the ladder he was climbing. Getting on a bus and travelling to tournaments in nearby cities was one thing, but getting himself to Venezuela for the Pan-Am Games or Las Vegas for the Olympic trials was financially becoming too much of a burden.

          He needed a sponsor, which was easy for a figure skater or gymnast, but for a poor black kid competing in a controversial and dangerous sport to the untrained eye was an entirely different matter.

          John Smith, Holyfield’s high school maths teacher, understood the situation perfectly. He also believed his ex student had a bright future in the sport and wanted to help. He drove Holyfield all over town, introducing him to local business leaders in an attempt to get them to sponsor him.

          They visited restaurants, plumbing companies, pharmacies and construction companies. They all seemed nice enough, the problem was Atlanta wasn’t a boxing town and they saw Holyfield as too small, too quiet and too unassertive to make it as a boxer.

          Holyfield needed a job and the Boy’s Club had a program to help the older members when they left and hooked him up with Epps Aviation, an outfit at the local airport, providing services for private aeroplanes.

          He started off running errands and carrying out janitorial duties. After twelve months they moved him up to the line crew, where he refuelled the planes and towed them to and from their hangars to their respective parking areas.

          The $2.65 an hour salary wouldn’t be enough to subsidise entering all the boxing tournaments, so to make some extra money he sold popcorn and peanuts at the stadium during the Atlanta Braves and Falcons games. He also took a weekend job as a lifeguard at the Thomasville pool, where he met his future wife, Paulette Bowden.

          Perched high on his lifeguard’s chair, Holyfield noticed Paulette was popular both with the boys and girls. The boys would surround her, waiting for their moment to strike. Despite Holyfield’s confidence in the ring, he would freeze when confronted by a girl and would only smile when their eyes met across the pool. Eventually the smiles would turn into hellos and then comfortable chats which helped to develop their inseparable relationship.

          In 1982 Holyfield captured the Southeastern tournament, though he won, he seemed unhappy at the lack of competition in the event and felt disappointed there was no-one left to fight. His next competition was the Amateur Boxing Federation held in Indianapolis. Again bouts one and two gave him little in the way of competition, until he faced Ronnie Hughes.

          Hughes stood up to Holyfield’s power and was able to match him, though Holyfield gained a slight advantage after the first three minutes. The Atlanta resident looked for the knockout in the second as Hughes stayed with his man.

          With Holyfield not used to his opponents taking his punishment, his endeavours of the first six minutes caught up with him in the final round and Hughes managed to scrape a split decision.

          Holyfield is the ultimate competitor and winning, whether it’s a boxing match, card game or a board game, is paramount. Though he lost, he took it graciously and stayed on at the tournament to learn all he could. Witnessing the other boxers he realised they didn’t have the beating of him, it was his stamina that let him down, vowing to himself to never gas again.

          Holyfield fought many more amateur contests, winning most of them by knockout and then faced the number one ranked amateur in the world, Sherman Griffin, who was prepared for his opponent’s first round onslaught, only to taste the canvas.

          Griffin was put down again in the second, also taking a standing eight count. The world’s number one was on the deck in the final round and managed to battle back strongly as Holyfield began to fade.

          The judges gave a three-two decision and to the dismay of Holyfield and the spectators, the referee raised Griffin’s hand in victory. Once again the Atlanta fighter took the bad decision without showing off and prepared for bigger challenges ahead.

          In 1983 the U.S. Olympic Committee held its sports festival event in Colorado Springs in their newly built sports centre, which had six gyms and seating for 3,000 spectators. Holyfield defeated Ricky Womack in the final, along with fellow Atlanta boxer, Michael Grogan, who defeated Virgil Hill in the middleweight division.

          In the late summer of 1983, he received a phone call from Paulette, informing him she was pregnant. He was so shocked he could hardly speak. Although Paulette still lived at home, she hardly got on well with her parents, meaning the two of them would have to find a place for themselves, bringing even more financial burdens on the young couple.

If you enjoyed the opening chapter then you can read the rest of The Real Deal: Boxing's Ultimate Warrior below-

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