a look back at the life of rocky marciano

Posted on Thu, Apr. 27, 2006email thisprint this
Marciano's punch vaulted him into rare air
BY GEORGE DIAZ
The Orlando Sentinel
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"The heavyweight champion of the world is either the toughest man in the world, or he is not, but there is a real possibility he is. It is like being the big toe of God." - Norman Mailer.

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ORLANDO, Fla. - A nation looking for heavyweight heroes embraced Rocky Marciano, wrapped up in a tidy package of patriotism and punching power.

He was the son of Italian immigrants - his father worked in a shoe factory - growing up poor against the backdrop of the Great Depression. Determined to find a better way of life, Marciano pursued baseball, then boxing, as his career path.

As the calendar years clicked away, Marciano's legacy grew with each devastating victory, reaching 49 consecutive victories before he retired April 27, 1956.

Fifty years later, the boxing world remembers Marciano with much more than a nostalgic twist. It misses him for so many reasons, starting with the palookas posing as heavyweight champions these days, to the painful work ethic of a man willing to take one or two punches to give one in return.

He remains the only heavyweight in boxing to retire undefeated.

It probably will never happen again.

"It stands on its own as the second most important statistical monument in sports after `56,'" boxing historian Bert Sugar said, paying homage to Joe DiMaggio's 56-game hitting streak.

Most of America's sporting heroes have a certain shelf life. Cal Ripken Jr. respectfully bumped Lou Gherig as baseball's definitive iron man. Emmitt Smith became the NFL's leading career rusher, displacing Walter Payton. Babe Ruth, Roger Maris, Mark McGwire and Barry Bonds have been crowned baseball's greatest Sultans of Swat over a season.

But Marciano likely will not be chased away so easily. Too many alphabet soup sanctioning-bodies clutter the ring, a situation aggravated by a lack of a heavyweight who can connect with the public as a true champion. And even if a modern-day fighter did, he wouldn't fight as often as Marciano did over his career. Marciano stepped into the ring 24 times in a two-year span alone.

Marciano was a thunderous throwback in those black-and-white frames, crouching down in an exaggerated pose - almost at eye level at his opponent's knees - stalking and biding time before delivering the big boom.

His right fist had a name - "Suzie Q" - and a nasty disposition. Suzie Q took a wallop at Jersey Joe Walcott and etched his profile for eternity with a 13th-round shot to the head, Walcott's face grotesquely distorted as sweat flew over his head like a watery halo.

No man delivered that much punishment over that extended period of time. Between March 1947 and September 1955, Marciano knocked out 43 opponents.

"No question he was the hardest puncher in the history of the sport," Sugar said.

During a time when boxing truly mattered in this country, Marciano stood among baseball stars Ted Williams and Stan Musial as icons of the generation that would lose its innocence once America stepped into the `60s.

A rebellious kid named Cassius Clay (later known as Muhammad Ali) screamed for attention, changing the dynamics of boxing, if not the world, as Marciano faded away in quiet glory.

It was the end of an improbable rise for a kid from Brockton, Mass., who once had aspirations of becoming a professional catcher, only to see the dream fade because his arm wasn't strong enough.

For baseball, anyway.

Nicknamed "The Brockton Blockbuster," Marciano used his stocky frame - 5 feet 10 1/4 and 184 pounds - for unorthodox leverage. He would bend down and hit upward, a style that also made him hard to hit.

First impressions were memorable.

"I knew the Rock when he first came to New York," said Angelo Dundee, a longtime trainer whose client list includes Ali and Sugar Ray Leonard. "Charley Goldman (Marciano's trainer) called me and said, `Ange, I want you to come with me today to the CYO. I'm training this kid from Massachusetts, and I want you to see him because he's short, stocky and bald-headed with sweeping shoulders but, boy, can he punch.'

"Everything Charlie told me about him was true."

Rocco Francis Marchegiano turned pro in 1947, fighting under the assumed name Rocky Mack to protect his amateur status. He knocked out Lee Epperson in the third round, beginning a run of 16 consecutive knockouts. He received a purse of $35.

Five years later, Marciano knocked out Walcott in the 13th round to win the heavyweight title. He defended it six times before retiring after knocking out Archie Moore.

Marciano sill had plenty punch of left in Suzie Q.

"You felt like someone had been beating you all over the body with a blackjack, or hitting you with rocks," Moore said after the fight.

Although Marciano said "he wanted to start living for my family," a driving motivation in his decision to walk away was his contempt for his manager, Al Weill. Under the terms of their contract, Weill was receiving half of the earnings from Marciano's fights.

"I'm getting out while I can," Marciano told reporters on the day he retired. "I'm dumping this guy before he dumps me."

Always fiscally frugal - he stashed money away because he distrusted banks - Marciano contemplated a few comebacks but never felt an urge strong enough to fight again.

"The retirement of Rocky Marciano clearly demarcates an end of an era," said Mike DiLisa, a boxing historian and author. "It was the end of all those hard-core boxing people from the `30s, `40s and `50s. After that, we ended up with the Peter McNeeleys of the world."

Marciano would "fight" one more time, matched in a computerized matchup against Ali. The "super fight" was filmed in privacy, with various alternate endings so the fighters didn't know the results until the movie was released on Jan. 20, 1970, through closed-circuit venues.

Although each fighter had to let up on hard shots to the head, many of the body blows were true. Reflective of his competitiveness, Marciano lost 50 pounds and bought a new toupee (which Ali playfully flicked away at one point in the filming).

"His hairpiece lost 10 pounds at least," Sugar said.

Using all variables from each fighter, the computer spit out a decision: Marciano, KO, 13th round.

"The computer was made in Alabama," Ali grumbled at the time.

Marciano never saw the finished product. Three weeks after the completion of the computer fight, and a day before his 46th birthday, Marciano hitched a ride on a small plane for a personal appearance in Des Moines, Iowa.

On Aug. 31, 1969, the plane crashed in a cornfield in Newton, Iowa, killing Marciano, another passenger and the pilot.

Agitated at the possibility of arriving late to the funeral service in South Florida, Ali nearly crashed his car. It was wide-eyed excitement for passengers Dundee and fellow heavyweight Jimmy Ellis.

"The traffic was so horrendous that Ali had to go on the pavement a few times," Dundee said. "That ain't a comfortable feeling."

They arrived in time to pay their respects, with words that still hold true today.

"Nobody comes close to the way the guy worked," Dundee said. "Nobody comes close to the dedication of the guy. He's one of a kind.

"Thank God for one of a kind."