The five coaches that shaped my boxing life

Apr 19, 2009 Sports

---

By Michael Benjamin

Contrary to popular belief, the boxing coach is, perhaps, the most important individual in the boxer’s life. While most people are asleep at about 04:00hrs, he is slugging it out with his charges on a four or five miles jog in the National Park or sometimes on the desolate streets of Georgetown.
This is the first training session of the day after which the boxer returns to his home and relaxes until his next session, some seven hours later. The coach cannot indulge in such luxuries. He spends the day poring through ring magazines and viewing tapes of different fighters, comparing fighting styles and acquainting himself with different modes of attack and defence in order to enhance his charges’ repertoire.
At about 16:00hrs he returns to the gym for another two hours training session, this time the development of strategies and muscle mass for his charge/s, in preparation of 10 or 12 tough rounds on fight night.
The coach is the backbone of the boxers’ preparation, for without him, the boxer lags in the fitness department. Yet at the end of the day, it is the boxer and his manager that hogs all the glory while the coach shoulders the blame for the boxer’s shortcomings.
To the innocent bystander the coach’s job appears inconsequential yet without such input a fighter can end up being seriously hurt. The coach teaches defensive tactics, the art of advancement and the correct use of punches among other techniques. He also prepares his charge for rigorous duty, exposing his charge to the intricacies associated with attack and defensive applications.
During my professional tenure, several coaches were in charge of my career, at various points. During that time, I have had to depend heavily on their expertise. Two distinct moments stood out. The first was my epic battle with Jeff Roberts for the lightweight title of Guyana.
By then I had earned the nickname ‘Mike Tyson’ because of the high ratio of knockouts. It was my first 12 rounds experience. Midway of that clash I began to nurture doubts about my ability to complete the bout. My legs were tired, body ached and the fight was quickly developing into a slugfest.
Coach Michael Barker was performing the duties of coach while ‘Busy’ Boyce operated out of Roberts’ corner. With merely one minute between rounds to inspire my mind as well as prepare my aching body for the rounds ahead, Barker worked feverishly. I returned to my corner with my spirits down and body aching and when he had worked his magic, I re-entered the fray invigorated and ready to war. At the end of that bout, I was declared the, ‘winner and new Lightweight Champion of Guyana.’
The other memorable experience occurred in the first of the two Barrington Cambridge epic encounters. We were engaged in physical as well as psychological warfare. During the seventh stanza, Barry connected with a punch. I did not see it! All I knew was that my legs felt like rubber and refused to take my weight. I managed to call on my experience and held on for dear life until the bell sounded.
Even then, I was still in ‘dizzyland.’ The next thing I knew was that Patrick Forde, who had recently joined my camp, was in the ring and steering me to my corner. His first words, ‘Are you alright,’ needed no response. I was in terrible shape. I expected Patrick to caution me or instruct me to hold my man until my head had cleared. You would never guess his response to Barry’s aggression. “Mike,” he said, “We are going for broke.” I could not fathom the wisdom of his words but when the bell sounded, instead of recoiling, I launched an attack on Barry. Punches rained supreme until referee Eon Jardine jumped in and halted the fight to save Barry from further punishment. Once again, the coach prevailed.
During my professional tenure in the ring, I have had expert tutoring from several coaches. I started my professional career under the guidance of the late Michael Barker, who also played an important part in my amateur career. Later on, the late Caesar Barrow joined my camp. Shortly afterwards I solicited the services of Maurice ‘Bizzy’ Boyce and still later on, those of Patrick and Reginald Forde.
While all of these coaches had played an integral part of my boxing life, it was Caesar Barrow and Mike Barker that really defined my boxing life. Maurice Boyce was also extremely useful. He might not have possessed the vast knowledge like the Fordes or even Caesar Barrow but he had great inter-relational skills. He was my coach for the fight against Steve Larrimore, in the Bahamas.
When we left Miami and landed on the Bahamas airport, I knew that I had problems with my weight. Later, this was confirmed when, merely one week before fight night, I tipped the scale at 13 pounds overweight. Over the next week, I virtually starved and only the reassuring words of Boyce kept me going. In fact, he remained in solidarity with me and reduced his food intake to convince me that the task, grueling as it was, was accomplishable. I went on to lose the Continental title on the scale because the task of shedding all that weight in seven days proved daunting.
I certainly cannot ignore Cliff Anderson, the man that had taught me the noble art of boxing. Cliff always spoke in soft tones and I have never heard him use indecent language. His influence extended far beyond Guyana as was evident while I underwent a training stint in London, England.
I trained at the Gainsford Gym and met former World Champion, Lloyd Honeyghan and top Promoter, Mickey Duff. I told Duff that I am Guyanese and his face lit up. “Cliff Anderson’s country,’ he exclaimed. Astoundingly, Duff waived the fee of three pounds per day and I was able to utilize the facilities free of cost. Cliff’s influence also extended to Cardiff and I was given royal treatment by the boxing community by simply mentioning Cliff’s name.
By the time I became a professional boxer, Cliff had lost his sight and his health had started to decline. He was unable to contribute to my gym work but his ringside advice was astounding. Cliff had superb boxing intuition. He would sit at his familiar spot during fights, inches from the ring apron, walking stick in hand and a dark shades covering his eyes, while he shouted instructions. Amazingly, he would call the right moves or issue appropriate directives. .
During our initial meeting, I discovered that Cliff was a stickler for details. Boxers were very circumspect in his presence. His policy was clear and rigid; you do not don gloves without his permission. I spent nearly six months in the Cliff Anderson Boxing Gym (CABG) before he allowed me to engage in combat.
It has been sometime since Cliff Anderson has departed this life but I find it difficult to erase his memories from my mind. I could remember our first meeting as though it was only yesterday. At that time, I was attending the North Ruimveldt Multilateral School. One day, while attending assembly in the large auditorium the headmaster, the late Clement Sylvester, introduced a short dumpy fellow whom he said came from the National Sports Development Commission (NSDC) to teach all interested students the art of boxing. My hands shot up and that was how I became involved in boxing.
A few weeks ago, I attended the presentation ceremony for the Mayor’s Cup, at Mayor Green’s office. I heard His Worship reliving the Cliff Anderson accomplishments and indeed the nostalgia seeped in. Mr. Green then asked a few journalists present at the forum if they knew Anderson. None of them was able to offer anything tangible about the man who had brought Guyana glory in the ‘square jungle’ and whose exploits have caused the government to rename the National Sports Hall in his honour. I am merely repeating the Mayor’s concern when he said that something is wrong with the young generation.
Caesar Barrow was thorough with his work. When he was through with his charges, they were kittle trim and fully fit. He was a hard taskmaster and when his charges complained he would simply say, “You have to render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s.”
Four miles of roadwork with Barrow amounted to about ten miles with most of the other coaches. Boxers that trained under Barrow can attest to the superb results at fight time. Those lucky enough to witness the Anthony Andrews/Anthony Barrow encounter in the late seventies can attest to (Anthony) Barrow’s superb fitness after training under his dad.
These days are different. After two or three rounds, local boxers are wheezing and panting for breath. The technology currently available to the young coaches was merely a myth to the coaches of yesteryear yet the former coaches produced more qualitative fighters.
Cliff Anderson, Caesar Barrow and Michael Barker are all dead and will not be able to read this article, but Maurice ‘Bizzy’ Boyce and Patrick Forde are alive and well. These five coaches have shaped my boxing career and will always remain the foundation of my boxing knowledge. The deaths of the first three are merely reminders that none of us is indispensable. Boyce and Forde are still alive and practicing their trade. Forde is at the Gleasons Gym in downtown Brooklyn, while Boyce shuttles between the Gleasons Gym and those here in Guyana. They are both doing what they have been doing for years even though their exploits are yet still to be acknowledged.
These five coaches have been and will always remain indelible features in my short but illustrious career.

---

---