Did the above-quoted Homer, who lived both BC (Before Christ) and BS (Before The Simpsons), have kids? Did he have children who approached him one day and said: “Dad, because The Odyssey has been No.1 on The New York Times’s bestseller list for 312 years running, we’re trust-fund kids who went to $30,000-a-year private schools and owned sportscars before graduating high school. And we appreciate that. We know we have options in life, but we want to be like you. We want to do what you do. We want to be writers.”?
Lots of other big-name former fighters can relate. Never before have as many sons – and daughters – of famous fighters followed in their fathers’ bootsteps. Maybe the phenomenon is best explained not by boxing writers, but by economists, who will tell you that the baby boomers will be the first generation in U.S. history who will fail to equal the success of their parents. If that’s the case, these kids are going to go down fighting.
Or maybe it has nothing to do with that at all. But Laila Ali and Jackie Frazier found value in their respective last names, and on 1 July, in Manistee, Michigan, Ronald Hearns (son of Thomas), Stephan Pryor (son of Aaron), James McGirt (son of Buddy), and Chazz Witherspoon (cousin of Tim) found themselves fighting on national television. The four had a combined record of 41-1, but don’t think for a minute that had their names been Stearns, Cryer, McGinty, and Willoughby, they would’ve been invited to appear on Showtime’s ShoBox series.
In virtually any performance-profession, the short answer to what separates the second generation from famous fathers is talent. It would be absurd to expect Ronald Hearns to deliver a right hand like “The Hit Man” or Stephan Pryor to attack with the hunger of “The Hawk”.
Moreover, there’s drive and single-mindedness, which for a potential champion can be as critical as natural talent. Joe Frazier and Roberto Duran fought because they had to. Marvis Frazier and Irichelle Duran fought because they wanted to. Still, genetics counts for something. How else to explain that great fighters like Roy Jones and Floyd Mayweather Jr. were born to average or good fighters like Roy Sr. and Floyd Sr.?
Thirdly, there is choice. The boxing fathers weren’t blessed with a lot of career-options. Stephan Pryor owns a t-shirt business. Ronald Hearns went to college on a basketball scholarship. Better yet, Chazz Witherspoon turned down a basketball scholarship to attend St. Joseph’s University on a full academic scholarship. ‘Spoon graduated with a degree in pharmaceutical marketing. I severely doubt that “Terrible Tim” or any other heavyweight from his era ever gave much thought to heading in that direction, although it seems that many of the Lost Generation had an interest in pharmaceutical purchasing.
So why, then, is Chazz fighting? Well, he’s an unbeaten (13-0) heavyweight, and as he put it: “Boxing is a lucrative sport. You can do a lot with the money you make.”
Every son is different. Ray Mancini boxed to win the lightweight title that his dad was denied. Ronald Hearns wants to match the achievements of his legendary father. Stephan Pryor and Cory Spinks turned to boxing despite minimal contact with their largely absentee fathers. James McGirt was always hanging around the gym where his father trained, so ...
“The name is a mixed blessing,” explained Witherspoon. “It’s a gift and a curse. You’re held to a higher level of scrutiny.”
Stephan Pryor learned that lesson during a six-rounder in Ohio: “I heard a guy scream: ‘You fight nothing like your father.’ I looked right at the guy, then knocked my opponent into a coma.”
Ronald Hearns was 16 when he first defeated his dad one-on-one in basketball. Boxing? The Hit Man’s rule was simple: Finish your education, then you can do what you want. Ronald, who was raised by his mother, attended Vermillion Community College in Ely, Minnesota, where he averaged 25.2 points a game (fifth in the nation). During the 1999-2000 and ‘00-’01 seasons, he played Division I (the highest level of college basketball) at American University in Washington, D.C., averaging 11.4 points a game as a shooting guard.
After Ronald graduated with a degree in criminal justice, the NBA wasn’t calling. The Kronk gym was less discerning.
“My son wants it badly,” Thomas Hearns said.
“My style is exactly like my father’s,” said Ronald, who stands 6ft 3ins and boxes at middleweight. “I don’t try to be, it’s just natural.”
Ronald fought only 10 amateur bouts, going 9-1. Missing from his record are the countless street fights in Detroit that all started the same way: Somebody wanted to make a name by beating up the son of a Motown legend.
At age 27, Ronald is playing catch-up. (By comparison, Thomas Hearns was a world titlist at age 21.) In Michigan, his sixth-round TKO of crude Mexican Hector Hernandez was his first scheduled eight-rounder. He started quickly, but when Hernandez, 8-2-2 (3 KOs), proved stubborn, the bout turned sloppy. Ronald guns a one-two like his father, and it took plenty of them to finish Hernandez.
“The advantage of my name is that my father made a way for me,” Hearns said. “The disadvantage is that he was a great KO artist and people expect me to do the same thing.”
Ronald, 9-0 (7 KOs), is impatient in the ring, as if trying to compensate for his lack of experience with every punch. His athleticism is instantly apparent – as is the fact that he absorbs too many shots.
“Defence is the hardest part,” Ronald acknowledged.
He better get proficient in a hurry. In addition to defending against his opponents’ punches, Hearns will have to defend against the public’s expectations.
Thomas Hearns and Aaron Pryor fought each other as amateurs and won their first world titles on the same day. On the afternoon of 2 August 1980, Pryor rose from the canvas to dethrone one hall of famer in junior welterweight titlist Antonio Cervantes, and a few hours later, Hearns crushed another in welterweight king Pipino Cuevas. Adding to those precious moments: Both fighters were crowned in their respective hometowns.
Like Ronald Hearns, Stephan Pryor was raised by his mother. “My father wasn’t around in my life, but I didn’t feel left out because I had my mother,” Stephan said. “My momma was my daddy.”
Stephan recalls sitting in front of the television set in November 1982, when “The Hawk” defended against Alexis Arguello. “What I remember,” he said, “is when they put Arguello on the stretcher.”
Less vivid are the memories of his father’s lengthy battle with cocaine.
“I was about 10 when my dad was in trouble,” Stephan said. “I didn’t really understand. At that age, what I understood was Sugar Bran, grilled cheese sandwiches, and bottles of pop.”
Stephan has had his own issues with drugs. In 2004, he was arrested for drug trafficking (the case is pending), and earlier this year, he was ticketed for possession of marijuana.
Pryor is now 31 and trying to launch a boxing career. When Aaron was 31, he was virtually done.
Strangely, Hawk Time and Father Time seem to be related.
Stephan began boxing at age 15, and his father was supportive. His first pro fight - at least officially - came when he was only 17. Stephan insists his first-round stoppage loss to Nate Jackson was supposed to be a Tough Man contest. Whatever the case, he returned to the amateurs and didn’t engage in another professional bout until 2000.
Pryor, 10-2 (7 KOs), has had more stops than starts. He didn’t fight from 2002 to ‘05, and his rust was apparent against the 23-year-old James McGirt, 12-0 (7 KOs) with 1 no contest. McGirt, a rangy lefty who is naturally right-handed, boxed as he pleased, scoring mostly with jabs. Pryor was tentative. He rarely used his left, later claiming a pre-fight injury. That doesn’t explain why he offered precious few right-hand leads.
In the middleweight eight-rounder, McGirt won by unanimous decision (three scores of 79-73).
Of the four familiar names on the card, Pryor was least impressive. By all accounts, his brother, Aaron Jr., who is a 28-year-old middleweight with a record of 5-0, is a more talented fighter.
James McGirt is trained by his father, who administers tough love every day.
“My dad is The Terminator in the gym,” James said. “He’s way harder on me than anyone else.”
Buddy never wanted James to box. As a point guard, James was talented enough to attend St. Petersburg (Florida) Junior College on a basketball scholarship. But after one year, his grades dropped and he lost the privilege of playing. Unbeknownst to his father, James turned to boxing. He went 44-4 as an amateur and climbed to sixth in the U.S. ratings.
At 6ft 1ins, McGirt boxes with a different style than his father, who won world titles as a 5ft 6ins junior welterweight and welterweight. “I like to fight inside,” James said, “but my dad doesn’t like me to.”
When James learned he was going to become a father, Buddy’s reaction was simple and direct: “I told him: ‘You gotta turn pro and take care of him.’ I bought the first few months of diapers.”
As evidenced by his workmanlike win over Pryor, James is a thoughtful and disciplined boxer. He needs to improve his left hand and his sense of distance. He’s got the name. It’s too early to tell whether he’s got the full game, but he’s worth a watch.
One other big plus: He’s got a helluva trainer.
While nothing short of a Bash Boulevard miracle will allow Hearns, Pryor, and McGirt to match the accomplishments of their respective fathers, even Homer would agree that they deserve the opportunity to make their own names. That goes for the sons of famous fathers in any profession. After all, look at the President of the United States.
Okay, okay, bad example.
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