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Spinks a 'likeable
guy' 25 years later
Hard partier
recalls scoring
amazing upset
of Ali in 1978
Leon Spinks, right, connects with a right hook against Muhammad
Ali during their championship fight in Las Vegas on Feb. 16.
1978. Spinks scored one of the greatest upsets in boxing history
by winning.
ASSOCIATED PRESS
LAS VEGAS, Feb. 15 - Muhammad
Ali wasn't taking Leon Spinks too seriously to begin with. Still,
he was dutifully heading out for an early morning training run
when he bumped into Spinks in the hotel lobby. Spinks was coming
in from a night on the town, a woman on each arm.
"HEY, MUHAMMAD
ALI," Spinks called out, "heavyweight champion of the
world."
Ali headed to the coffee shop, suddenly
in no mood to run.
"What am I doing here?"
he asked his confidant, Gene Kilroy. "I'm the two-time heavyweight
champion of the world, and this guy is nothing."
Ali wasn't alone in his thinking.
Twenty-five years ago, Ali was indeed
aging, but no one was giving much of a chance to Spinks, the
young Olympic gold medalist with only seven pro fights.
In his dressing room before the fight,
a CBS executive asked Ali to let the bout go a few rounds so
the prime-time television audience would have something to watch.
They ended up getting 15 sometimes
brutal rounds, and an improbably new heavyweight champion. When
it was over, Spinks had pulled off one of the greatest upsets
in boxing history, wearing down a fading Ali in the late rounds
to win the title.
In February 1978, Spinks was 24 and
on top of the world.
He wouldn't stay there long.
Today, though, he has no regrets.
"I don't think I won too young,"
Spinks said. "Anybody who had the opportunity like I did
would have took it, too."
--
To find the real Leon Spinks, you
had to look beyond the gap-tooth grin and his uncanny ability
to party all night long.
That's of course if you could get
past his gold laden security man, Mr. T.
Before he made it as an actor on "The
A Team," Mr. T was best known for being Spinks' bodyguard.
Somehow, the glowering security man with a mohawk and gold chains
was a perfect fit for the happy-go-lucky champion.
Spinks was fighting on the undercard
of the Muhammad Ali-Larry Holmes title fight in 1980, and Mr.
T stood outside his dressing room, arms crossed and looking menacing.
"Don't mess with Mr. T. He'll
dot your I," one wag warned.
-
Spinks had a problem with elevators:
He was usually trying to find one after a night of partying.
A few days before Spinks met Ali in
their September 1978 rematch in New Orleans, promoter Bob Arum
was coming down for breakfast.
As he stepped out of the elevator,
Spinks tottered into it and promptly collapsed in a drunken stupor.
"I yelled to him, 'Leon, you're
fighting Muhammad Ali in three days. Are you crazy?"' Arum
recalled.
"What's the matter? I just got
in from roadwork," Spinks mumbled.
The week before the fight, the city
held parades for Ali and Spinks when they arrived in town. Ali
came in a day before Spinks, and rode in a limousine waving to
the crowd that gathered to see the legendary fighter.
Spinks was the champion, and he came
in the next day. He, too, rode in a limousine, waving from the
open sunroof and smoking marijuana as he made his way through
the streets of New Orleans.
"Leon is sitting there and he
pulls out a joint and starts smoking it," Arum said. "He's
going through this parade route with all these people, smoking
a joint. The sheriff's office went crazy. They didn't know what
to do."
The rematch didn't go well for Spinks.
Ali regained the WBA title with a 15-round decision before 63,350
people at the Superdome, and Spinks would never be a champion
again.
Both Ali-Spinks fights were broadcast
on national TV, making Spinks and his big toothless smile a household
oddity, if not a household name.
President Carter was among those watching,
taking in the fight at Camp David with Egyptian president Anwar
Sadat and Secretary of State Cyrus Vance.
Carter tried to call Ali with his
congratulations, but Ali was at the postfight news conference.
Later, some of Ali's entourage thought it would be a good idea
to call the president back.
They called the White House, which
patched the call through to Camp David. Carter took it at 1:36
a.m.
--
Spinks turned to pro wrestling after
his boxing career fizzled, then went to bartending school.
One day, he called Jackie Kallen to
come down and see him at a tavern in a run-down area of Detroit.
Kallen had been around boxing in various
roles, her most prominent as manager of James Toney. She was
good enough as a woman in a man's sport that Meg Ryan plays her
in the movie "Against The Ropes," which will be released
in April.
Kallen sat down and ordered a soft
drink. The man sitting next to her ordered a beer, and Spinks
asked if he wanted a lime to go with it.
"What is he saying?" the
man asked Kallen. "I can't understand a word."
Spinks tried again, but knew it was
hopeless.
"I ain't got no teeth, and it's
hard to talk without my teeths," he said.
It was nearing the holidays, and Kallen
had an idea. She called her dentist, who made Spinks some new
teeth.
"It was just like the song where
he got his teeth for Christmas," Kallen said. "That
was probably the most unique gift I ever gave anybody. It was
unusual but practical."
--
Being heavyweight champion at 24 was
a bad combination for a guy who liked good times more than training.
Spinks held the title only seven months before Ali beat him in
the rematch in New Orleans.
Spinks would fight again for the heavyweight
title in 1981, but he was no match for Larry Holmes, who knocked
him out in the third round.
He was mugged in Detroit that same
year. The muggers took his $45,000 fur coat. Worse, they also
stole his false teeth.
Like everything else in his life,
he took it in good cheer.
"Everybody has ups and downs,"
Spinks said. "All you got to do is let it roll on."
Spinks' last fight of any significance
was a knockout loss to Dwight Qawi for the cruiserweight title
in 1986. He lost seven of his next nine fights, and after Tommy
Morrison stopped him in the first round in 1988, his boxing license
was taken away. He didn't fight again for three years.
"Champions are made on the inside.
It's not always your skill level but a certain intelligence the
great ones have," said Emanuel Steward, who was once Spinks'
trainer. "If you don't have that, you're championship will
be short-lived."
Spinks would return to the ring in
1991, but it was against a collection of bums with losing records
looking to fight a name. He was reduced to being an eight-round
undercard fighter when he lost his last fight in April 1995 to
a boxer named Fred House.
The same fighter who was paid $3.5
million to fight Ali in their rematch was, by then, long since
broke.
"That was a lot of money then,"
Arum said. "But it didn't matter how much it was, it was
all going to the same place.
"It was just numbers to Leon."
--
Spinks was well into his downward
spiral when he moved down in weight to fight Qawi for the 190-pound
title in March 1986. As usual, he had partied instead of training,
and Qawi was giving him a beating.
Steward was in Spinks' corner, and
by the sixth round, he had seen enough. Spinks was still standing
but taking a lot of punishment when Steward stopped the fight.
"What took you so long?"
Spinks asked. "I could get killed with someone like you
in my corner."
Losing didn't bother Spinks, but he
could see his trainer was sad.
"Forget it," Spinks said.
"Let's go back to my room and have a drink."
--
On the phone from St. Louis, Spinks
is talking about the gym he's trying to open in Chicago and his
three sons, who are all boxers.
One of them, Cory Spinks, fights March
22 in Italy against Michelle Piccirillo for the IBF welterweight
title, and Spinks will be there to cheer him on.
He won't be offering his son much
advice.
"He's got it pretty much down
pat," he said.
These days, Spinks travels with high
school principal Rick Guy to autograph shows, where he signs
memorabilia for money. For $20, he'll sign a picture. Boxing
gloves are $50.
"It gives him spending money,
keeps him going," Guy said. "People will talk to him
about his driving record, his teeth. He laughs about it. I think
that's why he's still very popular."
--
In 1979, Spinks was fighting Gerrie
Coetzee in Monte Carlo. If he won, he had a chance to regain
the heavyweight title Ali vacated when he retired after beating
Spinks.
Prince Rainier was ecstatic about
landing the big event and held a press conference for the two
fighters. Spinks, though, showed up five hours late.
Arum, meanwhile, kept getting complaints
from the hotel manager that they had to replace the entire minibar
every day in Spinks' suite.
When the fight began, Coetzee came
out timidly and Spinks was all over him in what looked like a
mugging. To defend himself, Coetzee threw out a right hand, and
Spinks suddenly went down.
At ringside, the prince - still smarting
over Spinks' snub - was cheering wildly for Coetzee.
Spinks got up only to run into the
same right hand again and went down a second time. He got to
his feet only to be knocked down a third time, and the fight
was over in the first round.
The prince held a dinner for 100 people
at a fancy restaurant, a celebration that lasted the whole night.
Spinks went back to the hotel only
to find out the bar was closed. He broke in anyway, took out
bottles of liquor and left others broken in his wake.
The hotel sent Arum a bill for $12,000
for the damage. He deducted it from Spinks' purse.
"When I signed him, I didn't
know he was nuts," Arum said. "I found out quick enough."
--
Leon Spinks, leading man.
During the day, Mark Mason answers
the phone at Budget Movers in Tulsa, Okla. His real passion,
though, is boxing - and making movies.
Spinks plays a trainer in his latest
flick, a $150,000 affair called "Prize Fighter" that
also features Tonya Harding and a cameo by actor Gary Busey.
The movie's plot revolves around the
true story of a toughman bar fighter who goes into a downward
spiral after his wife dies, then returns in a "Rocky"-like
comeback to win a fight in her honor.
"The key person in this movie
is a promoter we all grow to love," Mason said. "I
don't boast the fact that it's actually me."
Spinks won't get rich off his role
- $250 a day and a room at a Motel 6 - but Mason said he did
so well, he's already written two new parts for him.
"He's a heck of a dude,"
Mason said.
One of those parts is playing a genius
who can't speak. In his debut movie, Spinks has lines, though
they didn't always come off well.
"We had to overdub some of the
stuff to make his voice sound better," Mason said. "But
don't tell him I told you that."
--
Ask anybody who knows Leon Spinks
about him, and the first thing they do is come up with a good
story. The next thing they do is talk about how much they like
him.
"What a character, but a great
guy," Arum said. "He was the nicest guy in the world,
but totally nuts. He wouldn't harm a flea, but he was just a
goofball."
"He is one of the sweetest, nicest,
most innocent people I know," Kallen said. "Everybody
made fun of him because of the way he talked and the missing
teeth. But he was such a good sport about it. He was always best
at laughing at himself."
Today, Spinks gets by, living with
his wife in a Chicago suburb, watching his sons box and hoping
to open a gym. The money's gone, but he's still recognized everywhere
he goes.
Sometimes, that's good enough.
"Hey, I'm a likable guy,"
Spinks says.
© 2003 Associated Press. All
rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast,
rewritten or redistributed.
copyright 2002 - In
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