“I coulda been a contender,” the auctioneer joked, quoting the famous Marlon Brando line from the movie “On The Waterfront.” He was reaching behind himself on the glass counter for one of two pairs of old boxing gloves.
I’d seen the gloves as I did my walk-through before the auction started. I didn’t just see them, though; I saw the man behind them. I was instantly drawn to these tough-looking offenders, and wondered who the fighter was or had been.
The lace-up gloves looked like a fighter’s beaten-down face – round, puffy, dusty and dirty. They looked to have suffered years of abuse – or given out years of it to someone’s hard head or soft-tissue belly. I had lifted one of the gloves from the tray and held it in my hand. It was taut, inflexible and a little weighty, and the old leather showed its years of storage and neglect.
Who owned these weapons of pugilism? An amateur who never made it to the big time – that’s the romantic view. The boxer who danced around the ring at the Joe Frazier or Joe Hand or Champs boxing gym in Philadelphia? A Frazier wannabe that made it to the middle level but not to Smokin’ Joe’s heights? Someone actually famous?
Maybe he was just someone who beat the heck out of a punching bag for the thrill of it. I think not, because these gloves looked like they were as professional as the man who wore them. But I could be wrong because I know little about boxing or gloves, and I’m not sure if these were punching gloves, sparring gloves or fighting gloves.
I couldn’t find the name of a maker or any other marking on them. The label on the wrist band looked to have disappeared hundred of punches ago. And I’m wasn’t sure how old they were; they seemed to be one-piece with no seam at the thumb.
I’m not a boxing enthusiast, and it’s hard for me to even watch a match because the sport is so brutal. I find it simply barbaric – two human beings beating the crap out of each other just for fun (and money). The Romans actually outlawed boxing because it was so inhumane (it was a fight to the death). Boxing faded over the centuries but was revived around the 17th century. A British fighter named Jack Broughton invented the boxing glove (or mufflers, as he called them) around the 18th century.
Today, some gloves are as famous as their owners. The Smithsonian has the ones that Joe Louis wore in his first historic fight with – and loss to – Max Schmeling in 1936. George Tunney’s gloves from his 1927 controversial fight with Jack Dempsey are also part of the museum’s collection, as well as Dempsey’s gloves from a 1920 fight and a pair of Muhammad Ali’s gloves and robe.
The gloves at auction were likely not as famous (they sold for only $20). But they embodied the spirit and heart of the fighter who wore them and apparently loved the sport. I could sense him all over them. I didn’t try on the gloves – they were a little too grimy for me – but I’m sure embedded inside were the blood, sweat and skin follicles of hands that spoke his language, delivered in a punch with the power of a wrecking ball or the whimper of a small fist.
These gloves didn’t appear to be part of a collection, but they were as significant in defining who this person was as someone who owned 200 glass clowns or 400 souvenir spoons. I find such expressions of self intriguing, because they set up apart from everyone else around us. They make us unique in a world of sameness.
What is that thing that defines you?
