One more time, for the last time

July 22, 2008

By Robert Mangelsdorf
Maple Ridge News

Mike Heathfield has been down this road before.
The local fighter has come out of self-imposed retirement more times than Michael Jordan and Brent Favre combined, but this time, he swears, is the last time.
When former Olympic boxer Manny Sobral calls and gives you a chance to box in front of 80 million people in 40 countries around the world, you take it, Heathfield says.
Never mind that he has never boxed professionally before.
Or that he is 50 years old.
On September 5 at the Red Robinson Show Theatre in Coquitlam, Heathfield will fight Alberta boxer Joey Saskatchewan, a man nearly half his age, in a heavyweight undercard bout. The night will be televised around the world by Showtime Boxing.
“This one is for all the guys out there that are my age,” says Heathfield. “Just because we’re 50, doesn’t mean we’re dead.”
The 240-pound heavyweight is no stranger to the ring, however, and those who underestimate him have a tendency to end up on their backs.
Last year, at age 49, Heathfield won the Canadian Toughman Championship in Victoria, and then successfully defended his title last July in Cloverdale.
Prior to that, he had a long and successful career as a Muay Thai kickboxer, and has compiled an impressive 55-2 record in the various fighting disciplines he’s competed in.
“But I’m done after this,” he says.
He’s said that before.
He said in 2005, but a kickboxing loss to Andrew Peterson that saw him receive his first-ever 10-count didn’t sit right with him. A re-match was planned, but Peterson walked away from the sport, leaving Heathfield to fight Michael Dowsett instead.
Again, that fight didn’t live up to his expectations.
Heathfield beat Dowsett on a cut, and it wasn’t the full-tilt battle he was thirsting for.
In 2006, Heathfield again came out of retirement to fight at a charity tournament for good friend and promoter Gerry Gionco.
Gionco’s son Kyle was murdered in his New Westminster home on Dec. 23, 2004, after getting involved with the drug trade. Gionco founded the Kyle Demsey Gionco Foundation to help youth get out of the criminal lifestyle by helping them afford martial arts lessons.
Heathfield, whose own son Zach was barely a year old at the time, couldn’t refuse.
Then in 2007, Heathfield had a chance to fight in the Canadian Toughman Championship, held in Victoria.
“It was out of town so the embarrassment wouldn’t be as bad if I lost,” he says.
To the surprise of many at Bear Mountain Arena that night, he won.
“I was absolutely ecstatic,” he says of the win. “We didn’t know what we were getting into.”
But, once again, Heathfield couldn’t stay out of the ring for long. After being called out as a “paper champion” by fighter Jamie Walton, whom Heathfield was training with at the time, the two squared off last July in Cloverdale, with Heathfield successfully defending his title.
“I used that as fuel,” Heathfield says of Walton’s remarks. “He never really respected my abilities as a fighter, but I showed him.”
He went out on a high. Not only did he defend his title, he did it in front of his son Zach for the first time. It was a fitting end to a nearly 20-year fighting career.
Then the phone rang.
“I feel like I’ve lied to the public, and my fans,” Heathfield says of his many retirements, and subsequent comebacks.
But this time is different.
On Sept. 5, Heathfield has a chance to send a message to the world, that will and skill trump age; that being 50 years old doesn’t matter if you have the heart of a young man beating inside of you.
“I don’t want to fight someone I can walk through,” he says of his last fight. “I want to beat someone who can challenge me, or else it doesn’t mean anything.
“And if he’s better a fighter than me, that’s fine. But if it all goes according to plan, I’ll come out on top.”
It’s been said you can take the man out of the fight, but you can’t take the fight out of the man, and that rings true with Heathfield.
Overweight and awkward as a teenager, Heathfield began lifting weights and working out to escape the torment of the bullies he faced growing up in Montréal.
“I was a short little fat kid,” he said.
That difficult to imagine today.
Heathfield’s hulking frame resembles a comic-book character come to life, his massive muscles and large fists course with a barely contained power.
But this mountain of a man was once made to feel a mouse by the hurtful words of his peers, and he has never forgotten it.
“The bully wants to get you alone, to isolate you and torment you,” he says. “And if you let that happen, you’re going to be miserable.”
But Heathfield found camaraderie in the gyms of his home town, and before long the short little fat kid was six-foot-one, and playing for the Edmonton Eskimos of the CFL.
A trade sent Heathfield to the B.C. Lions, and he has been a Maple Ridge resident ever since.
Today Heathfield speaks to elementary school children about the pain he endured as a child at the hand of bullies.
“You can see in the crowd by the sad faces who is being bullied,” he says.
Stick with your friends, he tells them. They’ll give you strength when you are at your lowest.
Heathfield credits his friends in the martial arts community with helping him cope with the divorce of his wife and mother of his two children two years ago.
“If I didn’t have my boxing, it would have been been a real tough time for me in my life,” he says.
But he has two reasons why he won’t fight anymore, and their names are Zach and Shannon.
“My focus is going to be on my two beautiful children,” he says. “But I know I got that last fight in me.”
His daughter Shannon, 3, runs to his side, in tears. She fell while playing tag with her brother Zach on the gym’s large, padded sparring mat, and Heathfield takes her by the arm and kisses her boo-boo better.
Her blue eyes light up as she scampers away chasing after her brother, the game of tag back on.
“They’re my world,” he says, watching them play. “They’re my whole life.”

Off the Ropes

Off the ropes
(originally appeared in the Vancouver Courier)

by Robert Mangelsdorf-contributing writer

It's a chilly Friday night in Cloverdale, but inside the Alice McKay Pavillion the air is warm with the musty, pungent tang of sweat, beer and 40-year-old timber.

In the centre of the hall, two young boxers bob and weave in the ring to a soundtrack of throbbing hip-hop music, their bodies instinctively reacting to each other's movements. They float, their eyes focused on one another, each trying to stake out a dominant position in the centre of the ring. It is a delicate dance, punctuated by short spurts of violence.

The boxer in blue throws a punch. The boxer in red blocks with his right and counters with a jab. But the boy in blue keeps coming, landing blow after blow to the boy in red's sides, causing him to drop his guard. He hits him with an uppercut to the head and the crowd gasps at the sight of the red facemask popping back. The boy in red shifts his weight to his left foot and attempts a jab, but is caught with a right hook sending him stumbling backwards, off balance. All of this occurs in seconds.

It's chess at the speed of sound, what many refer to as "the sweet science."

The bell rings ending the final round and both boxers walk, not to their respective corners, but to the centre of the ring to hug each other, pouring sweat and utterly exhausted from the hard-fought match. The locals cheer as the boy in blue from Alberta is declared the winner, 30 points to 27. Promoter and boxing coach Rob Stone surveys the crowd.

"It's a great turnout tonight," he says nodding to himself.

The half-empty bleachers hold barely 100 people, who have gathered to watch a team from B.C. and another from Alberta in an informal preview of their bouts at the Canadian Winter Games in Whitehorse. While the number of people gathered seems small, it represents a huge turnaround in amateur boxing in B.C. After a long and storied history dating back to the first B.C. Golden Gloves tournament in 1939, amateur boxing in this province died out in the 1990s, as professional boxing became a three-ring circus and society's tastes moved away from violent sports. But since 2002, the number of amateur boxers in the province has doubled from 600 to 1,200 and gyms are popping up all over Greater Vancouver. More boxers than ever are eager to make a name for themselves at events like the B.C. Golden Gloves amateur boxing tournament being held at Richmond's River Rock Casino this weekend. Last May, the B.C. Golden Gloves ventured out of the high school gyms it had been relegated to for nearly two decades, and sold out the 1,000-seat River Rock Show Theatre in Richmond. This year's tournament, again at River Rock, has been expanded over two nights, March 23 and 24.

Inspired by a greater awareness about the health benefits the sport provides, recent uplifting movies about boxing and the spillover from the rise in popularity of mixed-martial arts competitions, a new crop of young fighters is springing up all over the city, vying to be the next generation of champions tasting Golden Gloves greatness.

Twenty-two-year-old Brennan Lowrie is one of them.

At six-feet, 10-inches, you'd expect to find Lowrie on the basketball court shooting hoops, but this super heavyweight fighter has one love, and it's boxing.

"It's addictive and so competitive," Lowrie says. "All the sports I've tried before were team sports, but boxing is completely different. You're in there by yourself so it's a mental challenge as much as a physical challenge."

A fifth year engineering student at UBC, Lowrie knows all about mental challenges, and paramount among them in the ring is keeping focused on the right things with thousands of rabid fans cheering.

"I try to tune it all out, so it's just me and my opponent. I might as well just be boxing in a barn," he says.

The Kitsilano kid has competed in front of big crowds before, but never in B.C., where he has difficulty finding opponents. While the number of boxers in the province is increasing, there is still a shortage of competitive boxers in many weight classes. Both boxers Lowrie will be going up against in this year's Golden Gloves had to be flown in from the U.S.

Despite being mere months from graduation, Lowrie has not ruled out a professional career and isn't planning on taking a break from his demanding training regimen.

"It definitely affects your social life," he says. "You can't just go out drinking with your buddies if you've got a fight coming up because you got to stay in shape, but I love it too much to have second thoughts."

Lowrie has his eyes on the senior National Championships later this year and hopes to box in the 2008 Olympic games in Beijing, just as his coach Manny Sobral did 20 years ago in Seoul. The Golden Gloves is an excellent chance to gain exposure and recognition for the many hours of training.

"I'm looking forward to it. It's a big tournament and it's on a bigger scale now," he says.

However, the tournament, and amateur boxing in general, has a hard fight ahead if it hopes to regain its former glory. North Burnaby Boxing Club coach Rob Bortolazzo believes too many people confuse amateur boxing with its professional counterpart and believe they are the same. It's a false notion he's all too familiar with.

"It's like fencing and pirate sword-fighting," he says, rolling his eyes. He leans on the edge of the ring at his club near Confederation Park and eyes two of his young pupils as they spar. "The object of amateur boxing is to score points by making clean hits, not knocking the other guy out," he says. "I mean, it's an Olympic sport!"

The differences don't end there. Amateur boxing bouts last a maximum of four rounds compared to the 10 to 15 round matches in professional boxing. Protective headgear is required.

Stone, who is also the president of Boxing B.C. and a former Golden Gloves competitor, considers amateur boxing to be safer than most sports.

"In amateur boxing, if you get a concussion, you're not allowed in the ring for 30 days," says Stone. "In any other sport, football, hockey, rugby, whatever, they splash some water on your face and you're right back out there on the next shift."

The British Journal of Sports Medicine agrees with him. A 2002 study suggested amateur boxing is among the safest contact sports, thanks to what the study says is careful medical control, which includes annual medical evaluations, ophthalmic examinations, and electrocardiogram and laboratory tests.

A 2007 study in the Journal of Combative Sport pegged the death rate for amateur boxing at 13.9 per million participants. According to a 1994 study by the U.S. Consumer Products Safety Commission, this is roughly equal to the risk associated with riding a bicycle.

The research doesn't surprise Stone.

"Amateur boxing is the only sport where doctors are required to be present," he says. At any time the referee can end the match if he thinks one of the boxers is hurt, dazed, or even if the scoring is lopsided.

But the belief that brain damage is an inevitability in the sport persists, and many parents are reluctant to enrol their children in boxing for fear it will encourage violent tendencies.

"The biggest problem we have is the parents," says Stone. "In the beginning they have no idea what amateur boxing is all about."

By letting teenagers take out their aggression in a constructive, safe and tightly controlled environment, Stone believes boxing curbs violent behavior while promoting discipline and a strong work ethic. It's an opinion mirrored by many in the amateur boxing community.

"You learn how to work hard, you learn respect and that you are no tougher than anybody else who wants to get in the ring," says Bortolazzo. "People become humble here."

None more so than 37-year-old Musqueam native and light heavyweight Mike Sparrow.

Sparrow has boxed competitively for little more than a year, but got into martial arts 13 years ago after the birth of his daughter.

"I was just trying to do positive things with myself at the time," he explains. "It helped me outright from the beginning, it helped me develop a lot more discipline and cope with the everyday ups and downs. If I'm nervous or depressed, if I go and do a good workout I feel relieved afterwards."

One hundred and eighty pounds of raw power, the self-described "banger" thanks the intense training schedule for helping him to quit drinking and get out of the party scene on the reserve. He now runs a salmon fishing operation in northern B.C. during the summer and expects his second child in August.

Sparrow will compete in his second Golden Gloves, having made it to the finals last year and hopes to bring the coveted "Golden Boy" award for outstanding male boxer home to the Musqueam Reserve where he lives.

"I want to inspire some of the young people in this community who don't have a lot of opportunities," Sparrow says, watching two kids running soccer drills in the reserve's gymnasium. His tough physical appearance hides a thoughtful sensitivity. "That's the reason I'm going to the Golden Gloves. If I win it I might be able to start something around here."

That "something" is a boxing club he hopes to open on the reserve with the help of the Fraser Arms Boxing Club where he trains. Through boxing, Sparrow believes he can teach the young generation on the reserve self-reliance and a sense of pride their community often doesn't provide.

"It's very segregated, we have our own community, we have our own problems with drugs and alcohol," he says of his home. "It's a depressing place to live to tell you the truth... I just want to win this for my people, for my nation, and inspire my young bucks out there and all the young warriors."

The seven day-a-week commitment that boxing's strict training regimen requires keeps kids off the streets and leaves little time for horseplay, Stone says. If a boxer is found to be using drugs or alcohol, which inhibit a boxer's abilities, they will often face disciplinary action, or even be kicked out of their club.

"If you don't do your homework here, you're going to feel it in the ring," he says.

Despite all this, many people have trouble reconciling the violence associated with the sport as something constructive, and some boxing clubs have struggled to gain the public acceptance needed to survive.

But Bortolazzo, who has been boxing for more than 33 years, is convinced of the positive impact boxing has had, not only on the kids he coaches, but on himself.

"You look at life differently and you learn a work ethic that stays with you," he says.

One of the most tangible positive impacts boxing provides is increased health and fitness, advantages which have attracted a whole new demographic of boxers.

"Some days we get 10, 20 girls coming in," Bortolazzo says. "We got medical students who train for one or two fights and quit, just so they could say they did it."

A typical day at the gym starts with 15 to 20 minutes of skipping rope to warm up, then 15 to 20 minutes of calisthenics. Then it's on to the bag, throwing punches for up to an hour before sparring in the ring for up to 45 minutes. Then it's a half-hour of circuit training and heavy lifting after that. To finish things off there's more rope skipping to cool down.

A boxer training at a competitive level will spend up to five days per week in the gym, jogging and sprinting on the off days.

Barely 120 pounds soaking wet, Lydia Walczak is the antithesis of what one would expect in a boxer. Looking more like a librarian than a fighter, the bespectacled Walczak is affable and exceedingly polite.

But the second she drops her shoulders and squints her eyes it all becomes clear.

Firing round after round of explosive punches at a helpless, flailing punching bag, she sidesteps and rolls her shoulders from one position to the next with speed and precision. She operates on pure muscle memory, her body acting and reacting with the unthinking skill that comes with hours of training. It's no accident she's a national champion and a Pan-American silver-medalist.

"The first time I saw a boxing match, the movement just completely blew me away," she says. "It wasn't the throwing of the punches, it was the movement and the strategy the fighter has to employ that drew me in."

The 21-year-old was soon hooked, and found boxing to be far more complex and cerebral than she originally thought.

"It's very simple to learn the basics but it's much harder to progress and learn the nuances. Every little thing makes a difference, the angles you step, your approach, your timing," she says. "You might think a jab is just a jab, but there are 50 ways to throw that jab."

Her mother, however, still can't bear to watch her compete.

"She'll watch the video afterwards but she won't come to the fights. It's hard sometimes for parents to see their children in the ring no matter how old they are."

Her calm demeanor serves her well inside the ring and out.

"Anger really slows you down because you're thinking, 'I really want to hit her hard,'" she explains. "You end up getting hit more than you should because you'll miss seeing something that could have been easily blocked."

Walczak, who studies international business and human kinetics at Langara College, says a win at the Golden Gloves will be an affirmation of her dedication to her physical regime, which sees her training seven days a week before fights. The sport, she says, has given her not only physical strength but also inner strength.

"It's a confidence builder because you have to face fear no matter what, whether it is fear of going in front of an audience or the instinctual fear of being hit.

"You have to be witty and sharp to be able to see things coming and react to them quickly," she says. "A lot of the boxers are well-educated, successful people, so there must be something about boxing to keep people like that interested."