Post by davemurphy on Jun 19, 2010 11:23:45 GMT -5
I'm not a big fan of this particular site at ALL!!!!, but someone sent me this article via E-mail and I thought it was a really nice Fathers Days piece. especially for those who were introduced to the Sport by their Dad:
THANK YOU DAD FOR INTRODUCING ME TO BOXING
By Socrates Palmer, Jr.
Father's Day Special
This Sunday in the United States, millions will celebrate Father’s Day. Earlier this year on February 17th, thanks to Sophia Marie Palmer entering this world, I joined the fraternity of fatherhood. Since my daughter's arrival, my world has changed forever and I now have an idea of how my own dad must have felt when he held me, his first born in his arms.
As a new father, I find myself constantly reflecting upon my own relationship with my dad, Socrates Palmer Sr. Born on January 15th 1947, in Elias Pina, Dominican Republic. He grew up as one of five children and was raised by a single parent, my grandmother Luz. He only knew his father through an old photograph since he and my grandmother divorced before he spoke his first words. Growing up without a paternal role model helped mold the man he is today and more importantly created the class of father he has always been to me and my two siblings, Ramon and Civelis. During my 32 years on earth, my father has symbolized strength, brains and compassion all crammed into a 5’5" frame. Despite his diminutive stature, Papi has always, in my eyes, towered over most men throughout his life.
We share the same name, hair line, and even have a similar signature birth mark. Another trait passed down from my old man is his passion for the sweet science of boxing. I can attribute my fanaticism towards boxing to the fact that I grew up around it. I never knew life without big fight on a Saturday night. Many of those Sautrday nights were spent hustling HBO with a wireless antenna that my dad hoisted over our old Bronx home or sitting in a packed living room because someone in my neighborhood had the “The Box.” If it was fight night, rest assured the Palmer duo was ready to be entertained. The rent was never riding on someone's left hook: my dad detested gambling, so his was a healthy admiration for the sport. The thrill of fight night.
Before my dad would go off to work he’d ask me to give him “an Ali,” which was a short right hand on his chin. I now tell my daughter to tap my jaw while asking for a Pacquiao. I had a Rocky poster on my bedroom door. Red boxing gloves adorned one wall of my room which was right next to a ripped out magazine page of Muhammad Ali in a “D-Con” roach spray ad.
While other kids were watching cartoons my dad would tape the fights for me that aired way past my bedtime.
The first memory of being my dad’s sidekick was at my godmother’s in-laws house for Duran vs. Benitez in 1982. I was only 4½ years old at the time, so hanging out late was cool. But thinking back, I think my mom let me go mostly so Papi did not come home too late. I don’t remember details of the actual fight but I do recall Duran losing and my dad being upset and of course being in the apartment with all the grownups yelling at the television. From that day forward, the bug bit me and my heart's been stung ever since. Ali, Duran, Hagler, Hearns, Benitez and Chavez were my screen idols and I owe this all to my dad.
Watching boxing together is a common bond that has helped make us the best of buddies. Now don’t get me wrong if my dad was a tennis enthusiast, I’d probably be writing about Connors and McEnroe for tennistalk.com, but I’m glad that’s not the case, because there’s nothing like boxing at its zenith and there never will be.
My father is 63 years young and despite me being an adult in my own right, I still look at him with the same awe I had when I was a child. The reverence has always been there and if anything it grows daily, when I think back at how he paid 36 years of Catholic education for three kids and three sets of braces and countless of broken glasses. He will probably never be canonized, but my dad deserves a medal at the very least. The sacrifices he and my mother made for the betterment of our family can only really be thanked by just showing that their work did not go in vain. I believe our best years are ahead of us I mean just for the fact that we now can have our own 12 ounce beverages, instead of just getting a sip from his can, as was the case many years ago. Now as a grandfather I know he can’t wait to have three generations in front of the TV watching the fights. There have been thousands of rounds and many great fights that my dad and I have enjoyed watching together, and in honor of Socrates Palmer Sr., here is my top 10, in no particular order:
1. Wilfred Benitez W15 Roberto Duran 1/30/82 (Always remember your first)
2. Edwin Rosario KO2 Livingstone Bramble 9/26/86
3. Thomas Hearns TKO2 Roberto Duran 6/15/84 (Sad moment for my pops, it was like his dog died)
4. Marvin Hagler KO3 Thomas Hearns 4/15/85 (Dad’s revenge on the Hitman)
5. Evander Holyfield TKO11 MikeTyson 11/9/96 (House full of friends yelling for Holyfield at the top of our lungs)
6. Roberto Duran TKO8 Davey Moore 6/16/83 (a supposedly washed-up Duran shocks the world by winning the WBA junior middleweight title)
7. George Foreman KO8 Michael Moorer 11/5/94 (The house went bonkers; I look at the fight with more fondness since finding out personally what a jerk Moorer is)
8. Manny Pacquaio TKO8 Oscar De La Hoya 12/6/08
9. Barry McGuigan W15 Eusebio Pedroza 6/8/85
10. Antonio Margarito TKO9 Miguel Cotto vs. Margarito 7/26/08 (My Dad was a big Margarito fan. He did not like Cotto and thought he was a dirty fighter. That's all past tense now.)
Happy Father’s Day to everyone. My heart goes out to those who have lost their dad’s they will always live in your heart and I pray that God grants you the strength to always keep that in mind. To the new fathers its up to us to keep boxing alive. Remember we are the biggest influence our kids ever be exposed to. The word father is more of a verb than a noun.
Courtesy: boxingtalk.com
THANK YOU DAD FOR INTRODUCING ME TO BOXING
By Socrates Palmer, Jr.
Father's Day Special
This Sunday in the United States, millions will celebrate Father’s Day. Earlier this year on February 17th, thanks to Sophia Marie Palmer entering this world, I joined the fraternity of fatherhood. Since my daughter's arrival, my world has changed forever and I now have an idea of how my own dad must have felt when he held me, his first born in his arms.
As a new father, I find myself constantly reflecting upon my own relationship with my dad, Socrates Palmer Sr. Born on January 15th 1947, in Elias Pina, Dominican Republic. He grew up as one of five children and was raised by a single parent, my grandmother Luz. He only knew his father through an old photograph since he and my grandmother divorced before he spoke his first words. Growing up without a paternal role model helped mold the man he is today and more importantly created the class of father he has always been to me and my two siblings, Ramon and Civelis. During my 32 years on earth, my father has symbolized strength, brains and compassion all crammed into a 5’5" frame. Despite his diminutive stature, Papi has always, in my eyes, towered over most men throughout his life.
We share the same name, hair line, and even have a similar signature birth mark. Another trait passed down from my old man is his passion for the sweet science of boxing. I can attribute my fanaticism towards boxing to the fact that I grew up around it. I never knew life without big fight on a Saturday night. Many of those Sautrday nights were spent hustling HBO with a wireless antenna that my dad hoisted over our old Bronx home or sitting in a packed living room because someone in my neighborhood had the “The Box.” If it was fight night, rest assured the Palmer duo was ready to be entertained. The rent was never riding on someone's left hook: my dad detested gambling, so his was a healthy admiration for the sport. The thrill of fight night.
Before my dad would go off to work he’d ask me to give him “an Ali,” which was a short right hand on his chin. I now tell my daughter to tap my jaw while asking for a Pacquiao. I had a Rocky poster on my bedroom door. Red boxing gloves adorned one wall of my room which was right next to a ripped out magazine page of Muhammad Ali in a “D-Con” roach spray ad.
While other kids were watching cartoons my dad would tape the fights for me that aired way past my bedtime.
The first memory of being my dad’s sidekick was at my godmother’s in-laws house for Duran vs. Benitez in 1982. I was only 4½ years old at the time, so hanging out late was cool. But thinking back, I think my mom let me go mostly so Papi did not come home too late. I don’t remember details of the actual fight but I do recall Duran losing and my dad being upset and of course being in the apartment with all the grownups yelling at the television. From that day forward, the bug bit me and my heart's been stung ever since. Ali, Duran, Hagler, Hearns, Benitez and Chavez were my screen idols and I owe this all to my dad.
Watching boxing together is a common bond that has helped make us the best of buddies. Now don’t get me wrong if my dad was a tennis enthusiast, I’d probably be writing about Connors and McEnroe for tennistalk.com, but I’m glad that’s not the case, because there’s nothing like boxing at its zenith and there never will be.
My father is 63 years young and despite me being an adult in my own right, I still look at him with the same awe I had when I was a child. The reverence has always been there and if anything it grows daily, when I think back at how he paid 36 years of Catholic education for three kids and three sets of braces and countless of broken glasses. He will probably never be canonized, but my dad deserves a medal at the very least. The sacrifices he and my mother made for the betterment of our family can only really be thanked by just showing that their work did not go in vain. I believe our best years are ahead of us I mean just for the fact that we now can have our own 12 ounce beverages, instead of just getting a sip from his can, as was the case many years ago. Now as a grandfather I know he can’t wait to have three generations in front of the TV watching the fights. There have been thousands of rounds and many great fights that my dad and I have enjoyed watching together, and in honor of Socrates Palmer Sr., here is my top 10, in no particular order:
1. Wilfred Benitez W15 Roberto Duran 1/30/82 (Always remember your first)
2. Edwin Rosario KO2 Livingstone Bramble 9/26/86
3. Thomas Hearns TKO2 Roberto Duran 6/15/84 (Sad moment for my pops, it was like his dog died)
4. Marvin Hagler KO3 Thomas Hearns 4/15/85 (Dad’s revenge on the Hitman)
5. Evander Holyfield TKO11 MikeTyson 11/9/96 (House full of friends yelling for Holyfield at the top of our lungs)
6. Roberto Duran TKO8 Davey Moore 6/16/83 (a supposedly washed-up Duran shocks the world by winning the WBA junior middleweight title)
7. George Foreman KO8 Michael Moorer 11/5/94 (The house went bonkers; I look at the fight with more fondness since finding out personally what a jerk Moorer is)
8. Manny Pacquaio TKO8 Oscar De La Hoya 12/6/08
9. Barry McGuigan W15 Eusebio Pedroza 6/8/85
10. Antonio Margarito TKO9 Miguel Cotto vs. Margarito 7/26/08 (My Dad was a big Margarito fan. He did not like Cotto and thought he was a dirty fighter. That's all past tense now.)
Happy Father’s Day to everyone. My heart goes out to those who have lost their dad’s they will always live in your heart and I pray that God grants you the strength to always keep that in mind. To the new fathers its up to us to keep boxing alive. Remember we are the biggest influence our kids ever be exposed to. The word father is more of a verb than a noun.
Courtesy: boxingtalk.com