Possibly the greatest of all, was Carlos Monzón. For the young up-and-coming G’s on the rise out there who don’t know their International Playboy history, Carlos Monzón was arguably the greatest middleweight Champion of all time, along with other G Manifesto Hall of Fame Members, Marvin Hagler and Sugar Ray Robinson.
Not suprisingly, Carlos Monzón was also a top notch International Playboy and traveled the world with Argentine and Italian models and actresses.
Let’s break down this G a little as there is a lot to learn from Carlos Monzón:
On Carlos Monzón’s Stamina and Training Habits:
Monzon’s stamina was probably his most impressive and illogical asset, since he was ever bit as proficient as Stanley Ketchel and Harry Greb at taking the rule book and throwing it out of the window. Ketchel invariably whiled away his leisure time by drinking and whoring out on the old Barbary Coast. Greb was a walking encyclopaedia on the best nightclubs and pool halls in any given town.
Monzon kept his body beautiful in trim by resting it horizontally against any passably attractive woman and by blow-torching his lungs with up to a hundred cigarettes a day. His nicotine intake would decrease by an impressive fifty a day when he got down to serious training, including a few smokes on the run to relieve the tedium of roadwork.
Author George Diaz Smith wrote of Carlos, “A guy like Ricardo Mayorga (another G Manifesto Hall of Fame Member) would be a novice compared to the likes of the iron lunged Monzon. Nobody could figure this out. For all of the years that I’d seen him, Monzon never gasped for air, tired or opened his mouth gagging for oxygen in any round.”
“There was an arrogance, even an insolence about Monzon. He carried himself like a winner. I was in the office of the promoter, Rodolfo Sabbatini in Rome with my wife of the time when Monzon strolled in, impeccable in a white suit, bronzed skin, smoking a cigarette, looking as if he had walked in off the set of a Federico Fellini film.
“He was a very cool looking guy and obviously a man absolutely full of confidence. He was one of those boxers who entered the ring as if he KNEW he was going to win, just a matter of how he did it.
“Although very good at long range, Monzon could bring up shorter punches. My memory tells me that he really hurt Jose Napoles with a right to the body in Paris. Although that fight was officially stopped because Napoles was cut, believe me, Angelo Dundee was glad to get his guy out of there because Jose was starting to get destroyed.”
When Monzon shocked the boxing world by winning the World Middleweight Title by knocking out Nino Benvenuti, people rubbed their heads and said, “Carlos Who?!” Fame and fortune were now his. His ego and temper grew. Even though he was married, he had countless romances on the side. Actress Suzanna Gimenez was seen with him. Monzon acted in eight Italian and French films, including starring in the movie, EL MACHO. He jet-setted with movie star Alain Delon. He kept winning and winning. He survived a gun shot to the shoulder from his wife; an accident they said.
He was accused of breaking a reporter’s jaw. He was friendly only with the elite of the elite. He had a soft spot for Bennie Briscoe and always greeted his arch-rival with a big smile and firm handshake. He retired undefeated over the last thirteen years of his career. In retirement boredom set in and so did his demons. Caught up in the party lifestyle, it came crashing down when he was convicted of killing his common-law-wife.
I like the fellow
who in the heat of battle
was able to plant our flag
in the toughest terrain.
Champion in his game,
confident in his ability, he saw the vultures grouping,
chased them with his hat
and seared them with his poncho.
If you go forward tenaciously
you’ll struggle through with your message,
even though your wagon gets stuck
and the cattle crush you. There’s nothing wrong with the man
who wears out his knife
defending his honor.
The coward hands it over to the police
without ever taking it out of its sheath.
Here’s to you, Carlos Monzon.
one hundred percent Santafesino.
the new world champion.
Strength, fists and heart.
From this old tree, for you a prize of honey
and a laurel wreath. From your tent a cry of victory,
a woman’s hand in yours,
and a carnation pinned to your lapel.
Well, here is what you should never put in your pockets of a Custom Suit:
Your hands.
In case you don’t know, that above, is a picture of Mitt Romney and what looks to be some suspect wimpster.
You should never put you hands in your pockets when you are in a Custom Suit (or get pleats for that matter). Unless of course, you are reaching for the mini-heater or a Bankroll to Grease someone.
While we are on the subject of Mitt Romney, check out him during the most recent debates:
Did you see Romney calling for the referee (Anderson Cooper in this case) for help, when things got heated with Rick Perry?
This guy was the snitch on the playground when you were a kid.
No heart.
Lord help us if Mitt “The Snitch” Romney is our next president.
