It was the day that signified the completion of former heavyweight champion Riddick
Bowe's meteoric fall from grace; one of the fastest, most dramatic journeys from hero to
zero in the history of a sport littered with fallen idols. And as a consequence of his
shocking actions on 25 February 1998, the 30-year-old New York giant is expected to become
a federal jail inmate within the shelf-life of this issue of Boxing Monthly.
On 4 June a Washington DC court heard Bowe admit to abducting his estranged wife and
former childhood sweetheart, Judy, and the couple's five children at knifepoint - "an
act of misguided love", according to his defence attorney. And maybe so; Bowe's
mother-in-law and next door neighbour had apparently commented that if Bowe really wanted
his family back, he should go and get them. Unfortunately, he did.
Bowe drove to his wife's home in Cornelius, South Carolina armed with a knife, pepper
gas spray, handcuffs and masking tape. He forced his family into the car, then drove 200
miles to a McDonald's in South Hill, Virginia, where Judy was able to get word to the
authorities. Bowe was duly arrested.
Although Judy was unhurt, refused medical attention and declined to press charges, Bowe
was found guilty under the federal Violence Against Women Act. The maximum sentence for
such a crime is 10 years imprisonment and a $250,000 fine, but plea-bargaining has reduced
Bowe's likely sentence to around two years. The court ordered that he should be placed
under house arrest, his movements --------------------------------------------
It is a stunning development that has shocked even those who have followed the
disturbing events in Bowe's life since his retirement from boxing in early in 1997, a
direct result of his second brutal encounter with Andrzej Golota in December 1996.
Prior to the first Golota fight, Bowe was widely regarded as the best heavyweight in
the world. The previous November he had become the only man to knock out Evander
Holyfield, with whom Bowe had a memorable three-fight series; Bowe won the undisputed
heavyweight championship from Holyfield in November 1992 and lost it to him one year
later, in the infamous "Fan Man" fight in Las Vegas.
But by Christmas 1996 Bowe was a shot fighter on the verge of a surprisingly early
retirement in an era when heavyweights like George Foreman and Larry Holmes, who are
scheduled to meet next January, are fighting into their 50s.
The second Golota fight had taken a heavy toll. Bowe slurred badly in the post-fight
interview; his mumbled speech was almost impenetrable. It would have been unrealistic to
have expected Bowe still to be the young prospect who, so full of hope after winning the
silver medal at the 1988 Seoul Olympics, would entertain the media with impersonations of
his idol, Muhammad Ali. But the extremity of Bowe's deterioration was alarming. He was
persuaded to retire or risk a fate similar to Ali's.
Life after boxing is never easy for a fighter to face. But the sheer, unprecedented
velocity of Bowe's decline sent him off the rails and headed for jail.
His first move in retirement was a disastrous foray into the US Marine Corps; it was as
if Bowe realised that, with boxing training camps a thing of the past, he still needed
some form of regimented environment in order to hold his life together. But Bowe had never
been a major fan of discipline and quit within a week.
His former manager, Rock Newman - now a spin-doctor for the controversial Washington
politician, Marion Barry - attempted to keep Bowe occupied with community-orientated
projects. But the frustration of an athlete cut-off in his prime soon told on Bowe and his
personal life began to disintegrate in 1997.
Police were called after a physical altercation between Bowe and his sister, Thelma,
although no charges resulted from the fracas 18 months ago. However, Bowe awaits trial on
charges of assaulting Judy, last August, and also an adult nephew, Joey Bowe, three months
later. And in March of this year Judy and the children moved out of the $1.5 million
family home.
Bowe was a popular figure, regarded as one of boxing's nice guys, as illustrated by
corporate sponsorships - rare for boxing - from blue-chip companies such as Fila and
Sergio Tacchini. He is estimated to have amassed a fortune of over $50 million from
boxing.
Known as "Big Daddy", Bowe has the images of his children - now aged between
two and 11 years old - tattooed on his chest. He had been with Judy since both were
13-year-olds in Brownsville, Brooklyn, and the couple married at 21.
The second youngest of 13 children - in 1988 a sister, Brenda, was shot dead in the
street and a brother, Henry, died of AIDS - Bowe's family meant everything to him, but a
tragic series of events has robbed him of the things that mattered most in his life. And
the losses have been too much for him to bear.
He checked himself into a hospital for psychiatric evaluation later on the day of the
abduction. He was released with the advice to undergo anger-management therapy - too
little, too late, it seems.
Bowe may originally have come from Brownsville, Brooklyn, but, unlike Tyson, he is not
a man one would have earmarked for a jail cell. Bowe's mother, Dorothy, was determined to
keep him away from the streetlife that leads to the road down and she seemed to have
succeeded.
But now a distorted reading of the family values she instilled in him has led to her
son's downfall. And the superficial view one can expect to be taken from all this is that
there is great truth in the saying "You can take the man out of the ghetto but you
can't take the ghetto out of the man". If only life were that simple.