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Joe Frazier was a good man. That’s the first thing I want to get straight. I’m talking Joe Frazier the fighter, not the guy with the Kingston Trio. The Chad Mitchell Trio. Whatever the fuck trio he was in. He was good too, though. You ever hear them do “Four Strong Winds?” I love that one. “Think I’ll go out to Alberta.” I had a fight one time, out there in Alberta. Cold as shit. What I’m saying is, if it hadn’t have been for Joe Frazier, I wouldn’t have been a boxer, wouldn’t have met my first wife, wouldn’t have got the crap knocked out of me by Thomas Hearns, wouldn’t have met my second wife, God bless her, she got me out of a bad place, wouldn’t own this bar. Let me stand you another round. Not the house whiskey, that’s fortified piss. You want Buffalo Trace.
My dad was a fighter, a welterweight. That’s the last thing he wanted for me. You wouldn’t know it to look at me now, but I was a good-looking little bastard once upon a time. My dad wanted me to be an actor, and I was okay with that. That kid Scott Baio? That could’ve been me. Fonzie’s kid brother. But I’ve got no regrets. I did some commercials, licking up peanut butter and grinning like it was pussy, chasing after that big Kool-Aid jug guy. I was even up for a show, The Bugaloos, some shit with cartoons, had to do an English accent, which was no problem for me, I’m good with accents.
Anyway, so I’m up for that show, I’ve got an audition in a couple of days. And in the meantime my dad takes me to this place where they’ve got the title fight on the closed circuit. Frazier’s just scaring the hell out of Jimmy Ellis, pushing him around the ring until can’t take it anymore, won’t get off his stool for the fifth round. And I thought, that’s what I want. I want people scared of me. I don’t want to be this pretty boy that the moms and the teenyboppers go nuts over. Although I got to tell you, I never had any shortage of moms and teenyboppers as a fighter. I had some fun, no joking. So I blow off the audition, I beg my dad nonstop, saying dad, you gotta set me up with a gym, get me a trainer, I’m gonna be a fighter. And my dad, he was a cranky old bastard, only smiled when he didn’t mean it. But he loved me. He always gave me what I really wanted. This one's for you, dad.
So it’s like twelve, fifteen years later. I’ve had my ups and down, never really had a shot at the title, but I could dish it out on a good night. And my manager works it out, I don’t know how, so I’m fighting Hearns. He’s not the champ then, Hagler took the title from him, and he’s just moved up to light heavyweight, which is my class. And I’m just practice, you know? I know that, everyone knows that. But I figure what the hell, you never know, and if I can land a few good ones it’s anybody’s fight. So the first round goes okay, we’re feeling each other out, he’s not laughing in my face, which is something already. And before the second begins, I’m looking around, and there’s Frazier, in the front row, just sitting there looking at me. I’m not talking about the singer Joe Frazier. Maybe he was there too, I don’t know. “Guantanamera.” You know that one? He’s looking at me, and the expression on his face says, “You go, kid. You can do this.” And I think, he’s right, I can. There are two fighters in this ring. And right after that--well, it wasn’t right after, it was the third round, but it’s the next thing I remember—I’m lying on my back, the ref is walking away, and my guys are coming into the ring to get me. I turn my head, and there’s Frazier, looking at me. The expression on his face says, “That’s how it goes, kid. You’re down, but you’re a fighter. A real fighter.” And I’m thinking, Scott Baio, this is something you’ll never know. You lucky pretty boy son of a bitch.
Joel Youngblood, what have you been been doing with yourself?
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