They exchanged a few light blows, none of which found their target on Josh, landing mainly on his arms, but unquestionably, Ray Leonard was going to be a different proposition from any of his previous opponents. His fighting brain and sheer class were evident to all, and it would take Josh some time to decide his best strategy on how to approach this highly skilled athlete.
After 30 seconds, and just when I was beginning to think that the kid had finally met his match, Josh went on the attack like an angry wasp trying to get out of a window throwing leather from all directions. Although Ray was able to avoid a lot of his punches by parrying and ‘tying him up,’ some got through.
Sensing someone standing beside me I glanced round and saw, to my surprise and utmost amazement, George Foreman, the former world heavyweight champion who lost his crown in the epic ‘rumble in the jungle’ to Muhammad Ali in 1974. I knew George well as I had covered several of his battles after he came out of retirement, setting the world alight again, in the 1990s.
“Hi Jack, it’s been a long time. You still going to church?” asked George shaking my hand until I thought my fingers were going to drop off. He continued before I had chance to answer, “Chuck suggested that I should take a look as there was something interesting going on but he didn’t say what.”
I filled him in. “The kid is Josh Cody, a limey that I discovered in a street brawl in the UK a little over 3 months ago. He seems to have a lot of talent, and he’s only fifteen years old.”
“Wow, he’s got talent alright,” said George after a few seconds watching the goings on in the ring. “Well, he’s too young to turn professional but presumably you’re going to turn your arm to managing him in the amateur ranks?”
“No, nothing like that, George… Maryanne and I thought it would be a good idea if we brought him over and let her pop take a look at him, but nothing has been decided yet regarding his future. We’d just like to have a few opinions to see if they agree with ours?”
“Well, he’s impressive. Whether or not he has all the other things that are required to be successful are in the hands of the Lord.” George, after his first retirement from the ring had become a preacher for some time and he still preached when given the opportunity. “Does he go to church?” he continued.
“I can’t honestly answer that George, I’ve only known the kid for a short time. But I’m sure you’ll approve of his attitude and personality.” He was quiet for a while and lost interest in our conversation as things began hotting up in the ring.
“Boy!” he said as the kid threw a beautifully timed left hook to the jaw. “Am I seeing things?” He moved nearer to the ring, now completely preoccupied with the spectacle in front of him. I looked at Maryanne, who, as I expected, was bobbing and weaving with every blow.
“You OK, Maryanne? You seem unusually quiet,” I said whispering in her ear.
“D’you know Jack, I’m as excited as I was when you first asked my pop if you could take me to the school ball,” she said with a grin, “and I bet you can’t even remember when that was.”
“Of course I can Maryanne. Now just because I asked you how you were, stop talking romance,” I said, looking a little stern. She looked crestfallen for about a millisecond then perked up.
“I love you when you’re angry, especially when it’s with me. At least it means you’re listening.” The activity in the ring abruptly stopped with Ray looking at the kid with a smile.
“What’s going to happen to the kid from now on Jack?” said George. “He’s shown aptitude well beyond his years and, looking at him over there in deep conversation with Ray, I imagine he’s also well impressed.”
Ray and Josh ducked out of the ring and I saw them making their way towards the jump-ropes hanging on a hook at the far end of the gym. Normally, there’s nothing remarkable in a boxer jumping rope. In this case, however, after a few moments watching Josh it was obvious that this was going to be yet another side of the kid that was going to be a joy to see. An artist is easily spotted, whether it’s in painting a picture, building a house, kicking a ball, dancing a ballet or cavorting about in a jive. The grace and deftness of the artist is testament to the occasion and conveys the feeling that every movement is enjoyed to the maximum. All movement is entertainment when performed by an artist. And so it was with Josh Cody, whether he was working the speed bag, or performing in the ring, and now jumping rope. He moved forwards, backwards, first this side then that, doubles, trebles. It was the first time that I found watching someone jumping rope absorbing. He made it look like a national sport.
After about 20 minutes of this exhausting regimen, he abruptly stopped, and came over to Maryanne and me. The sweat dripping off his nose and chin but breathing normally.
“Where can I go for a road run, Jack?” he asked raising his eyes enquiringly.
“On the road, I guess,” I said, “but if you want to know the best place to run, then it’s not round here or now but first thing in the morning through Central Park. If you can avoid the drunks, druggies and bandits, who could very well attempt to rob you, even if you’re in running gear and unlikely to have any valuables. Therefore running with company would be a good idea.” As I looked up I saw Ray chatting with Bill, “Ray.” I called. “Fancy a run in the a.m.?”
He smiled. “Sure, you bet,” he shot back. “When and where?”
“Central Park 6 am. We can then see how well the kid runs.” I said glancing at Josh.
At 5.15 a.m. I tapped on the kid’s door, and when he opened it I wasn’t surprised but was still impressed to see that he was not only out of bed, but dressed and ready for the run in his trainers and jogging pants.
“I’ll call a cab,” I said, “which is the best way of getting to the Park at this time of day.”
“Have you been running with Ray before?” Josh asked eagerly after quietly closing his bedroom door and following me down the stairs.
“Sure, many times, but the last time was some years ago, when I was a helluva lot fitter.”
“How far are we going to run Jack?”
“Today? About as far, and as long as you feel comfortable. But to be more specific, I would think about five miles, which I’m sure won’t bother you too much.”
“I feel honoured that one of the greatest fighters and sportsman in history has agreed to run with me. Not to mention the greatest sports writer in history,” he said with a smile and a wink. This kid was not only advanced for his years in his sporting prowess, but also knew how to flatter, without being condescending.
It was no surprise to me when Ray agreed to run with us. We’ve covered hundreds of miles running together, sometimes when he has been training for a fight and sometimes just to keep fit.
As expected, on our arrival at Central Park, Ray and his entourage were already there waiting. I recognised his limo immediately. He always does things in style.
“Good morning,” said Ray, getting out of the car and coming towards our taxi as I fumbled for the fare. “I thought I’d bring Max with me, he likes a workout from time to time. Come over here, Max, and meet the next champ of the world,” he said, as his personal trainer alighted and closed the door. Max was slim and about 40 years old with dark, almost black, eyes.
“Nice to meet you kid. I understand you gave Ray a run for his money yesterday,” he said smiling at Josh and coming forward with his hand out.
“Hi Max,” Josh responded with obvious pleasure.
Then, turning to me. “How you doin’, Jack? It’s nice to see you again.” I hadn’t seen Max for a few years, but he hadn’t changed much.
“I’m well enough thanks Max.” I said and not wanting to waste any more time, slowly set off on the run. Ray and Josh in front and Max and I close behind. Seeing the park so early in the morning brought back a lot of memories for me. I used to run here regularly in the old days when I was a kid until, according to my old man and Bill, it became too dangerous to use if alone so early in the morning. And I was usually alone.
We had been running for about ten minutes when the kid, who had been alongside Ray, suddenly, without warning, peeled off to his right and disappeared into some bushes and trees which we had just passed. My first thought was that he had become desperate for a leak, but then we heard what seemed like hell breaking loose. It sounded like shots being fired, followed by screams, shouts and a general hullabaloo. By this time we had travelled another 30 yards along the road. We quickly glanced at each other, turned and ran back in the direction of the disorder.