I'm Nick Mendez, a recently graduated Northeastern journalism student, a writer, photographer, podcaster and blogger. Take Witness is a collection of my work from Boston to Seattle, Cairo, Guatemala, Damascus and Doha.

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In America, boxing was a sport of opportunity.

A way for young men to break to toil their way to prosperity; to build strength to overcome the adversity of a nation transforming. It was the story of Joe Louis, Sonny Liston and dozens of other champions. This was the paradigm that Ali sought to redefine.

But boxing looks very different today. For young athletes, there's more money in football, basketball or baseball, where even bench-warmers earn a professional salary. We have gone from nationally televised mega-bouts to a spattering of pay-per-views each year, targeting a fiercely loyal niche of loyalists. For a sport that demands so much of its combatants, the return can be paltry. 

I walked into Boston Boxing and Fitness looking for the remnants of this opportunity. What motivates these young fighters to get in the ring? Pushes them to shed sweat and blood, gladiators in a sport with no middle class? Boxing has rethought its very draw, appealing to just as many fitness nuts as impassioned youth. Does the story of the rags-to-riches American fighter still exist, or is it another relic of a simpler time?  

Boston Boxing and Fitness isn’t quite the gritty, underground gym you see in all the movies.

Near as I can tell, that sort of place faded away years ago, crushed by the appropriation of boxing as a fitness fad. The business has changed. Owner Ed LaVache isn’t a wrinkled old veteran with an eye patch and a gun under his pillow. Most of his fighters aren’t consumed by boxing as their one and only salvation. The opportunity just isn’t there anymore. 

“A lot of these younger guys out there now fighting their way through the lower ranks aren’t getting the shots that they deserve or that they would have gotten back in the day,” Ed said. 

Located in Allston, MA, Boston Boxing came up for sale three years ago. Ed saw the potential for the sport, not as a means to train champions, but as a modern destination for anyone looking for the rigor of a boxer’s workout. The centerpiece of the facility is still the ring, where amateur fighters spar and work with trainers, but the brightly lit space is filled with everyone from promising pros to former college athletes hooked on the competition. 

“And then you have your fitness people,” Ed added. “The people who love the sport, love the idea of training in a boxing gym, love being treated like a boxer without actually having to get in the ring and have a match.”

One of the most promising amateurs at Boston Boxing is Tommy Duquette, a 5’9, 23-year-old with more than 80 fights under his belt. Tommy recently took home a silver metal at the Police Athletic League tournament, has won two New England championships and a Northeast regional championship.

“I’ll definitely turn pro within the next two or three years,” he said. “When I first started boxing, I was kind of good at it. Better than all the kids that started with me at the same time. Faster, hit harder, didn’t mind getting hit myself as much.”

Tommy is wise to timetable his move to a professional career. An illustrious record means better money and higher-profile opponents. In a day where an elite few control the money, belts and who they fight, patience is key. 

“I’ve always liked boxing ever since I was young,” said Marco Romolli, a hard hitting 165-pound brawler. “Even when I was in school, and school just wasn’t right for me, so I chose to box.”

Marco is humble and mannerly, but in the ring he swings hard from the first bell. He considers himself more of a “bull-rusher,” an aggressive fighter with a hard left straight. Meanwhile 152-pound welterweight Hector Hernandez likes to save his punches for just before the bell, a late-round flurry of hooks. 

“I think it’s an art, I really do,” he said.

Hector hasn’t given up on boxing as a means to fame and fortune. In great shape and possessing a natural ability to choose his punches wisely, Hector is spec’d to turn pro.  

“It’s a great sport, it keeps you out of trouble and it keeps you working hard, keeps you focused. If you’re not focused you’re not going to make it in boxing,” he said.

For a fighter with championship aspirations, boxing can be a scarce wasteland of closely-negotiated challengers and stingy paydays. Still, the euphoria of winning hooks these young men and women into trading punches. It’s a gladiatorial supposition: shed enough sweat and blood and you will be rewarded handsomely. 

“Boxing has the potential to change and be what it used to be,” Ed said. “Will it? It has to, but will it? I don’t know.”

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Take Witness Podcast - Ep. 1 - Boston Boxing

Hector Hernandez is a loquacious 32-year-old, 152 pound welterweight who wants to be a champion. With big fights on the horizon, Hector joins fellow fighters Tommy Duquette and Victor Nicholl in explaining the allure of the sport. Meanwhile owner Ed LaVache pushes his fighters to their competitive limit.

 

 

 Learn a bit more about the cast of characters...

Saturday
05Dec2009

Tommy Duquette's lineage, elusivity 

Tommy Duquette has been winning tournaments since he was 17-years-old. Now 23, he's following a family pedigree of championship-caliber boxing.

He's a two-time New England champion (just like grandpa), a Northeast regional champion and Golden Gloves medal-winner. Tommy doesn't count his wins, but clearly remembers losing just ten of his 70+ career fights. His most recently loss, a controversial decision in the first round of the U.S. Championships in Denver, was nothing but a speed bump.  

"I felt like I should have won," he said. "I'm going out to this tournament right now to redeem myself."

Tommy, who's originally from Waltham, was just then packing for San Antonio and the Police Athletic League tournament, one of USA Boxing three major, yearly competitions. Training demands three or more hours every day, including sparring with pros Danny O'Connor and Venezuelan brawler Patrick Lopez.  

"I try to make myself as elusive as possible," he said of his fight style. "I try and stay on the outside and score points, but if I have to I can get inside and get tough and throw power."

Tommy's always been a natural in the ring, but he's in no rush to turn pro. Experienced amateurs get better contracts, he said, more money and more respect. He's also hedging his bets, pusuing a degree in business administration at Massachusetts Bay Community College. In juggling the two, he's noticed a real parallel between the benefits of a degree and a healthy amateur career.

"It's like going to college," Tommy explained. "If you went to go get a job at the New York Times and you're just some guy off the street you'd have no chance. But if you get a journalism degree, get a few stories under your belt and they're gonna hire you and give you better money."

Tommy left San Antonio with a silver medal.

Saturday
05Dec2009

Irishman Victor Nicholl follows a bum ankle into boxing

Watching Victor Nicholl pace around the ring, pop a left jab and follow around with a big right hook, you kind of get the idea he likes to hit people. He only started boxing about a year ago, when an ankle injury forced him out of Taekwondo. In fact for Victor, boxing is a sport of opportunity.

"Nah I mean it's just to stay in shape," he said. "Boxing is a good workout."

His injury affects his style in the ring as well. Victor doesn't bob and weave, instead standing nearly flat-footed and maneuvering deliberately, looking for openings. Competition has made him much more aggressive, throwing heavy combinations at the slightest flash of weakness.

"I started as a boxer, kind of a puncher," he said. "Look at someone and figure out what they're doing and counter punch."

Victor hails from Tyone, Ireland, having come to Boston in 2003. His amateur career is just beginning. He's 4-2, has won the Rocky Marchiano tournament and will compete in the Golden Gloves this winter. While his heart is with martial arts (he fondly mentioned watching Bruce Lee as a kid) boxing appeals to Victor for its primal roots. Boxing is how a fight occurs on the street, Victor says, and as long as people like fighting, they'll like boxing.

He doesn't aspire to box professionally, but says he'd listen if his trainers suggested otherwise. For now he's content to just keep throwing haymakers, until something forces him on to whatever's next.

"Like I say, it'll be work, women or age pretty much, you know, you get married or something," he said. "Or else work gets to be so much you can't get over here."

Saturday
05Dec2009

Owner Ed LaVache Keeps His Fighters Honest

Ed LaVache bought Boston Boxing and Fitness with a buddy three years ago, wanting to create contenders. Back before it relocated from Watertown, Ed was a regular; a college guy looking for a place to work out. 

"We had a vision of hard core training, getting people in shape," he said. "Especially the boxers, turning them into real competitive boxers who could win at any level."

Three main types of people come into Boston Boxing in Ed's experience. There are young, lifelong athletes, hungry for that ring time. They have every intention of lacing up and going a few rounds. There are also those college athletes who have moved on from school sports but don't want to lose their competitive edge. Lastly, Ed's mindful to position his business to fitness buffs as well.

"They love the sport, love the idea of training in a boxing gym, love being treated like a boxer without actually having to get in the ring and have a match," he said.

His vision for the gym is nonetheless heavy on competition. Through an "enormous" team-training program, open house fight nights and training other amateur fighters (the gym registered more than fifty in 2009), the atmosphere is very competitive. Ed caters his gym to a wide swathe of experience levels, from neighborhood brawlers to 8-0 pro Danny O'Connor.

Ed's business model, just like the advice he dispenses in the ring, is all about fundamentals. He said his aim isn't to turn fighters pro, the money usually isn't there for one thing. Part talent scout and part drill master, Ed's gym is about instilling discipline and hard work.

"Our goal is to keep doing what we're doing and expand," he said.

 

Friday
04Dec2009

32-year-old Hector Hernandez dreams big, punches late 

By age alone, Hector Hernandez might be called past his prime. At 32-years-old, he's one of the older fighters at Boston Boxing, a fact that's pushing him to turn pro before it's too late.

"A lot of people tell me that stuff," he said. "I had the great Mickey Rourke tell me that too."

He's talkative and charismatic, always making an entrance and barking encouragement from the corner. When I first asked Ed when I could catch Hector, he recommended I come back that evening when the women were working out. Hector liked to walk in around then and take his shirt off, he explained.

"If I listen to my trainer I'll do well as a pro fighter," Hector, a 152-pound welterweight, said. "I don't listen much sometimes, that's my problem."

His style might just suit him well in the pro ranks. Hector is methodical out of the corner, throws most of his punches late in the fight and conserves his energy.

"The thing is I could go five, six, seven even eight rounds longer than anyone in this gym," Hector boasted. "I'm not a quick fighter. I could be if I wanted to but if I go any quicker then that I'll get tired."

A Boston resident for fifteen years, Hector grew up in Lawrence, MA, although he was born in The Bronx. He came to Boston Boxing three years ago with every intention to fight. Listening to the man, he's also determined to turn pro, take on the middleweights or be a champion one day.

As an amateur he's 7-2, competing in the Golden Gloves twice and when I first met him, was training to compete for the Rocky Marciano title belt the following week. Hector also can't wait for his payday, saying, "That money ah, I want to get paid man." 

If titles were won and lost with confidence, Hector would be a household name. Still he's not afraid to admit his faults: he tries for too many knockout punches and doesn't always listen to his trainer. Hector engages his audience as a character in the ring, one who clearly loves every second under the lights.

"It's a great sport," he said, "And it keeps you out of trouble and it keeps you working hard. It keeps you focused. If you're not focused you're not gonna make it in boxing."

Wednesday
02Dec2009

Mild-mannered Middleweight Marco Romolli

Romolli first found boxing at an air force base in Concord, MA. He has less experience than a lot of the other guys at Boston Boxing, but his style is audacious. He's soft spoken and very polite, but in the ring his formidible reach and aggressive style are anything but quiet. 

"I've always liked boxing ever since I was young," he said. "I've always been interested in it, even when I was in school. School just wasn't right for me, so I chose to box."

His work ethic was readily apparent. Romolli is a regular character at the gym who arrives early and will spar with anyone. As a 165-pound middleweight, he's only beginning his career as an amateur. When I spoke with Marco, he was tired, but excited for his first amateur fight that Friday.

"I feel great," he said, "I just need to rest right now. I haven't gotten a rest in about a week."

Romolli acknowledged boxing's dwindling popularity, but doesn't give it much thought. As he was growing up, he watched with admiration as Iron Mike lit the heavyweight division on fire. As long as he keeps working hard, he said, crediting his trainers for opening doors for him, he "should be fine."