In a sport where no commodity is as hard earned as trust, Eddie Futch stood alone. If boxing had a monetary currency, it would be inscribed with the words ‘In Futch we Trust’. Countless boxers put their lives in his capable hands. Not only to devise strategies to inflict damage upon opponents, but also to watch over them and signal an end when they were in danger of absorbing permanent damage. Futch told his fighters when it was time to hang up the gloves, and walked away from them if they did not heed his advice. Futch eventually strolled into a well deserved retirement, but his influence will never fully depart boxing. Today would have been Futch’s 98th birthday.
The man who would develop into a boxing sage was born on August 9th, 1911, in Hillsboro, Mississippi. The son of sharecropper who moved the entire family, in search of factory jobs, when Eddie was five. In many ways Futch’s story correlates with that of Joe Louis, and countless other African-Americans who moved North in search of prosperity. Boxing was not Futch’s first love, as an adolescent he was a more accomplished basketball player (with the semi-pro Moreland Flashes). However, basketball was still segregated, and boxing provided Black men more opportunities than any other sport. Opportunity was something Futch needed as a newly married 17- year old, especially since America was entering the Great Depression. He eked out an existence as a waiter at the Hotel Wolverine, and began to earn spare change sparring at the Brewster Community Center.
In time Futch developed into a first-rate amateur boxer, winning the Detroit Athletic Association lightweight title in 1932 and Detroit Golden Gloves championship in 1933. He was also a stable mate of legendary Joe Louis, a relationship that became a lifelong source of inspiration and a base educational tool to communicate important specifics to students. In 1934 Futch was ready to make the jump from amateurs (where he went a reported 37-3) to the pro’s, it was then that it was discovered he had a heart murmur that would prevent him from turning professional. The news came as a shock to Futch, but because he was already a respected part of the gym, and mature for his age, Futch was encouraged to train boxers. Something, it turned out, he was perfectly suited for.
One of the reasons Futch was so highly though of is that Joe Louis sought him out as a sparring partner. This despite Futch scaling in at lightweight, while Louis was clearly a future force at heavyweight. When Futch asked Louis why he chose him, the reply was, like Louis, to the point. “If I can hit you, I know I’m sharp.” The key survival move during those sparring sessions, for Futch, was his defense along the ropes, where Futch could pivot and land a left hook with remarkable consistency. When Louis returned to the gym, as a heavyweight contender, he offered his old stable mates the princely sum of ten dollars a round to spar. All but Futch accepted, who understood Louis had vastly improved over the span of two years. A wise Futch told friends of the money offered, “Yeah, but that is not going to be enough to pay for your hospital bills.”
It was not Futch’s association with Louis that made him special, and in short order he developed into one of the most prized amateur coaches in the Midwest. For Futch training young men was about more than just boxing, a double edged sword since he would often form a relationship with the boxers outside of the ring. It lead to Futch burning out on the sport, and from the mid 1940’s until the early 1950’s Futch left boxing. He cited disappointments suffered with fighters, their wives, hangers-on, managers, and state commissions. Futch said of the period, “The prevailing values were not my values. It got to the point where I didn’t trust anybody.” Futch even moved to work corners along the Eastern seaboard, mostly Philadelphia, but boxing no longer held his interest. He moved to California in 1951, but after a couple of years the lure of the gym proved too strong.
As with other places Futch had been, it did not take long for him to catch the attention of people with a curiosity and willingness to learn. Though he was successful, it was never easy. Futch told Sports Illustrated (in 1989) of long drives he made where Blacks were not permitted to buy a cup of coffee at dinners, or having to drop off his second wife – who was white – because gas station attendants would not sell to interracial couples. Boxing repaid Futch, to some extent, when Don Jordan became his first world champion. The duo climbed their summit in 1958. Jordan was a talented boxer, whose wild life outside the ring limited his performances in it. Futch’s main goal was to rein in and focus Jordan, a task that attuned Futch to the importance of the mental aspect of boxing. Before Futch exited boxing, he would claim over twenty world champions as part of his entourage.
Boxing never paid the bills for Futch until much later in life, and for forty years he labored at day jobs as a sheet metal worker, welder, and a Texas post office worker. While Futch never trained the greatest heavyweight ever, the closest he got was Joe Frazier, he did have his number. Joe Frazier, Ken Norton, Larry Holmes, and Trevor Berbick (four of the five men to beat Muhammad Ali) did so with the aid of Futch’s guidance from the corner. At an awards ceremony in the 1990’s Futch and Ali came face to face, Ali leaned into Futch’s ear and told him “You always gave me trouble.” Ali was not alone in this regard, and Ken Norton described Futch’s influence over his prot?g?s. “I respected Eddie in every way. He lifted you from point zero to point ten in no time.”
When Futch decided to take on a pupil it would be on his terms. Something the mercurial Marlon Starling found out first hand. In a title defense against Lloyd Honeyghan Starling was handling the challenger easily, then began to toy and play with an opponent who was overmatched on the night. The showboating did not fit into Futch’s master plan, which included respect for the sport and opponents. When Starling returned to the corner Futch calmly told his fighter, “Stop that nonsense. Otherwise I won’t be here when you get back.” Which Starling did for the rest of the fight. If Futch decided he was no longer getting the most out of a student, or enjoying the time spent together, he cut the ties. As Futch did with Starling, Trevor Berbick, and Mike McCallum. It was probably no coincidence that all lost their titles shortly after Futch’s departure.
For Futch boxing was much more than a physical competition, he valued and nurtured the mental aspect of the sport. Professorial in this facet, Futch subscribed to magazines such as Psychology Today to gain further insight. He, also, loved poetry, reciting masters from memory to drive home a point. The diminutive Futch was poetry in a corner. He never raised his voice, in training or during a fight, and was proud of how calm his corner remained in the heat of battle. Futch told boxers facing an unknown opponent, “go out and fight the first round, and I’ll fight the rest.” He understood boxer’s assets. “Fighters are born with differences in physical ability, but you also see a big difference in their skills. A trainer must understand conditioning and the art of boxing. But more important, he must know the strength and limitations, both mental and physical, of his fighter. That’s the trainers influence at work.”
A trainer must understand boundaries as well, and there were some limits Futch refused to test. The event most recall, it is part of Boxing 101, is Futch pulling Joe Frazier out of the third fight, The Thrilla in Manila, against Muhammad Ali. It remains a controversial decision to this day, but Futch never regretted it. Telling Ronald Fried, for his book Corner Men, “Both men had given their all, and at the end of the 12th I decided unless Joe got on top in the next I’d pull him out. I was hoping Ali will punch himself out. But in the 14th Ali kept firing those bullets, and I thought Joe might really get hurt.” Futch expounded. “I started thinking, ‘this man is a great father, he’s got a family he loves and they’re so close. I don’t want him to wind up a vegetable, and not see his kids grow up.’ Even though I thought Joe was ahead, I knew I couldn’t let this go on.”A humanity more than a few current corners could learn from.
Futch’s legacy lives on through not only the boxers he guided, but trainers of the future he imparted his brand of wisdom upon. Freddie Roach trained as a professional under Futch, beginning at age 18, and later returned to become a valued assistant to Futch. His integrity has been passed to Freddie Roach (and other trainers like Thell Torrence, George Benton, and Hedgemon Lewis before Roach) who will, in turn, mentor another deserving person. Great trainers who did not serve time at the feet of the master hold him in high esteem too. Emmanuel Steward appreciated Futch as much as his disciples. “The thing about Eddie, he was not a trainer, he was a teacher. He really got control over his fighter’s mind like no one I’ve ever seen. He was a man of dignity. He always believed in respect, principles.”
Those principles could not be bought, and when two fighters Futch trained, Larry Holmes and Michael Spinks, were matched for sports biggest prize he chose to remain on the sideline. This meant Futch would miss out on a hefty payday, but he saw his role as more than merely that of a trainer. Futch would not betray a loyalty he expected of his own fighters, “I couldn’t see myself working with one over the other.” It was a decision that proved as much as Futch loved boxing, he refused to be compromised by it.
At age 87, in 1998, Eddie Futch retired from the sport he gave so much too. Removing himself from boxing two years after induction into the International Boxing Hall of Fame, and one year after he was named the best trainer of the last 75 years by The Ring magazine at their 75th anniversary gala. On October 10th, 2001, Futch passed away, at age 90, in Las Vegas. Motown records founder Berry Gordy, who was trained for a short time by Futch as a 15-year-old amateur, gave a fitting eulogy which summed up the Futch everyone came into contact with knew. “He had the mind of a warrior, and the heart of a poet. Futch is boxing’s statesman, strategist, philosopher, and ambassador.” Amen.
