Danger and Forgiveness

I have written here many times about how some people have admonished me over the years for participating in boxing.  One of the best came from Ma, who told me back in 2001, "Can't you find something else better to do?"  It has been pointed out to me more than once that boxing is, well. . .dangerous.  I tell people how much I love the sport, and I laugh it off, but they're right.  Precautions are taken (especially in the amateur ranks), but sometimes, things go wrong. 

One of the most horrific tragedies happened on March 24, 1962 at Madison Square Garden in New York City.  Emile Griffith, a boxer from the U.S. Virgin Islands, fought Benny "The Kid" Paret, a Cuban.  It was the third time the two had fought, and the match was aired on national television on NBC.  The first time they faced each other, Griffith won the welterweight title by knockout.  The second time, Paret regained the title.  The other night on ESPN Classic, I watched a documentary, Ring of Fire: The Emile Griffith Story, which detailed what happened that night. 

During the sixth round, Griffith backed Paret into a corner and pounded him with punches.  Some of the people in the documentary differed as to how many punches Paret took.  Now I've been hurt myself in the gym and in the ring.  I've seen others, both professional and amateur boxers, get injured on TV and during matches I've seen in person.  The footage of Griffith beating Paret however, had me cringing with my mouth open.  It was one of the most brutal beat downs I had ever seen.  The referee, Rudy Goldstein, jumped in too late to stop it.  Paret had been knocked unconscious while still on his feet, then he slumped slowly down to the canvas.  A reporter interviews Griffith, who regained the championship, right after the mayhem.  Griffith and his corner people look cautiously over at the corner where Paret, who was still out of it, was laying.  Griffith commented that he hoped Paret "is feeling very good." Paret never regained consciousness, and he died ten days later, leaving behind a wife and a young son.  Paret's widow is interviewed throughout the film.  Several times, she is wiping away tears. 

Boxing doesn't have a patent on deaths.   Cars spin out of control during races, jockeys fall off horses on the racetrack and are trampled. Luges crash, bulls stomp on their riders, and skiers slam into trees.  But people are more scandalized about a boxing death because animals, sports equipment, and machines didn't contribute.  It was purely at the hands of another human.  It does not matter if the fight was sanctioned, or what the referee observed, or how the judges saw the bout.  People will cry, "Murder!", and the calls to have the sport banned will be raised -- again.  Indeed, that fight was the reason why boxing disappeared from network TV for the rest of the 1960s, not to be seen again until the 1970s. 

Some thought that Griffith may have intentionally beat Paret like that due to Paret using a gay slur towards Griffith during a weigh-in.  Griffith seems to admit to being bisexual during the documentary, but there seems to be confusion about that, even on Griffith's part.  He said that the slur didn't bother him.  Footage of him being interviewed in the ring after the fight shows Griffith looking at the playback of the action.  He appeared to be surprised at the intensity of his punches on Paret.  Griffith gives the impression that he got caught up in the moment, and just followed the directions of his trainer to keep punching. 

As harsh as that night was, as well as some other messy aspects of Griffith's life -- a brief marriage, an assault that nearly killed him, dealing with puglistic dementia -- the documentary offers a most poignant and hopeful coda at the end.  Paret's son, now an adult,  finally meets Griffith.  Initially, Griffith has trepidation, as anyone would in that instance.  How will Paret's son react to him?  What can Griffith say to the son of the man he killed?

The two men meet in a park.  Paret's son tells Griffith that his mother still has a hard time about his dad's death.  But the son has no hard feelings.  Griffith hugs the younger man and cries on his shoulder.  Forgiveness is a hard thing to do.  I am not fond of the concept, and I admit that I'm guilty of carrying grudges.  I'm not the only one.  But the documentary taught me that it not only can be done, but it is necessary for closure.