Heavy Weight Boxers: Rocky Marciano & Roland LaStarza

It was on a warm comfortable Sunday morning a long time ago and I was stuck at work in the laboratory of a smaller hospital on the east coast of Florida and not in the bow of my son's new fishing boat bobbing around with the kid and keeping him company We would each have our favorite fishing poles and reels and something good to eat and drink that the boy's mother always fixed and that would have been nice.

All I had to play with on that day were the titration beakers, volumetric pipits, the blood chemistry analyzer and a bunch of other stuff that can be found in the clinical lab of any hospital; but all of that ended when a slip of paper with the name Roland Lastarza on it was placed in front of me.

I knew the name well. It went with other names like DiMaggio, the son of a fisherman who as a kid spent unhappy years on the fishing wharfs of San Francisco before growing up to play center field for the mighty New York Yankees, and becoming known as "The Yankee Clipper". Marciano, another hero of all Italians, always respectfully referred to as The Broxton Blockbuster but recognized as The Rock was on the list. Rocky Graciano, who fought those battles against the smarter and wiser Tony Zale, and Carmen Basilio, "the onion farmer" from upstate New York, one of the few to beat the "sweet" Sugar Ray Robinson. And, if you went back father there was the somewhat mouthy Tony Galento better known as "two ton Tony" from upstate New York who enjoyed fighting dirty and capable of talking bad about anyone's momma. He had earned his moniker by arriving late for a fight after delivering two tons of ice on his way to a match up and later gained a very brief fame by knocking the great Joe Lewis to the canvas, With "The brown Bomber" on his butt in the third round of a title match, Tony turned to the crowd at ringside in an act of celebration that lasted only until the "bomber" got up from the canvas. The fight was stopped by the referee in the next round when Louis hit Galento "with murderous combinations". Another hero of the Italians at the time was Jake Lamotta, "The Raging Bull". He was a man many suggested was possessed by demons. He was also a slugger who many agreed had "one of the greatest chins in history". He also became the first and one of the very rare men to beat the great Sugar Ray Robinson There were also all the others that all Italian kids worshiped in the late forties and early fifties.

But the slip of paper with Lastarza's name on it was all it took for me. This was the man who put a win/loss record of thirty seven zip on the line when he climbed through the ropes to fight the likewise undefeated Marciano whose record stood at twenty five zip. I was just out of diapers at the time, but, like a lot of Italian lads, and their families, I remember that night when every radio in the Italian neighborhood was turned on for the Marciano and Lastarza fight in 1953; it had taken place on a night when Lastarza might better have stayed at home.

They had fought their first battle in 1950 when Marciano had won one of the few fights that had gone the distance; but some had suggested that LaStarza the smarter, faster boxer with all the defensive moves had outclassed the slugger know as the Rock and many ring historians agreed, suggesting that "Lastarza wuz robbed".

It did not take long for me to ask the lady who had gone to the Emergency room to collect the required blood sample to describe the gentleman with the name Lastarza.

Was this a big man? I had asked the question as calmly as possible.

The answer had been yes.

And did he have a nose like this I asked pushing my nose as far to the left as I could, and the answer was yes again.

What about the ears? Did they stick out like this I asked pulling my ears as far forward as possible?

Again the answer was in the affirmative, and I gotta admit this dumb Italian was getting excited.

Only one more question was left. Tell me about the eye brows; were they covered with thick scare tissue.

When the nice lady answered in the affirmative this one last time, it didn't take long. I jumped the counter top in front of me cleanly and evenly and hustled my butt across the hall way that separated the hospitals lab from the small emergency room on the other side.

The lady was correct. I found myself in front of this gentleman. He was sitting on a gurney holding his side, and he was exactly as depicted, a tall man with the wide thick sloping shoulders, and the narrow waist that all true athletes possess; only this guy was hurting bad. You could see it in his downcast eyes, one big hand holding his side and the grimace on his face from the hurt that he was attempting to hide.

Having no shame, eager, and more than a little excited, I stood their in front of this man and asked him if he is Roland Lastarza and the man had nodded a quiet yes.

Impatient with simply a yes, I took a step closer and the man raised his head and looked at me more closely..

No I said and in the most bold, brazen and insane way imaginable I suggested that perhaps the man had not understood the question.

Are you "The Roland LaStarza" and almost immediately the lips and jaw that had been locked together from the pain had begun widening into what was becoming an appreciative smile that had gone on to include the eyes. It had been twenty years since the man had climbed through the ropes and into a boxing ring

The shame and folly that a man is capable of usually has its limits, but not on that morning and certainly not by me.

Geeze I remember saying. I remember when you fought Marciano and followed up with the indiscrete inquiry about what the hell had happened.

Releasing that I had been foolish enough to trample onto what might be really dangerous turf, I stepped back to escape the range of that big right hand.

But Lastarza was the kind of gentleman that all good men are. The dark eyes under the thick scar tissue followed me but the small amused smile remained.

I beat the man Lastarza replied;

And the truth is, if you look it up in the record book, a whole lot of people in the business had agreed.

What I was not aware of was how they had fought twice.

I had missed the first fight that had taken place in 1950, but I had been around when my family, like all the other Italian families on the block had turned the radio on for the second fight in 1953 That was when Marciano, embarrassed by sports writers who offered the suggestion that he had got his butt whooped by this guy named Lastarza three years earlier, had climbed into the ring with his nemesis for the second time. It was three years after the first fight. Lastarza got beat bad losing by a TKO and he was fully capable of admitting it.

The eyes took on a kind of wistful look, the eyes dropped almost imperceptibly and for a brief instant the smile returned to a contemplative frown.

I had a bad night he answered. And that was the way it was.

I returned to the laboratory recognizing my lack of class and feeling a little sadness for the gentleman, who had demonstrated the discipline, poise and courage necessary to become a contender for the then cherished title of Heavyweight Boxing Champion of The World.

The hospital laboratory was where I belonged

A half hour later the lab doors opened and a pair of shoulders turned sideways to permit the entry of Mr. Lastarza, a man all Italians respected. The big right hand was extended and I reached out. The smile on the man's face and in the eyes was still evident and the hurt in his side was gone; he thanked me for what I had done to help him; the big right hand squeezed more firmly and the other big paw rested briefly and lightly on my left shoulder. His eyes looked squarely into mine and then Mr. Lastarza was gone. But, I will not forget what the man with the dignity, poise, character, and class had done for me.

I had more than the opportunity to shake the hand that had shook the hand of Rocky Marciano, Like all the Irish of an earlier generation who were seeking to shake the hand of someone who had shook the hand of the great Irishman, John L Sullivan, the heavy weight champion of that earlier era. I had been allowed the additional privilege of shaking the hand of a great gentleman named Roland Lastarza.

And that, my friend was the way it was.

Fini