LAS VEGAS ? For the prize fighter, there are things you never forget, even if it?s been 30 years since you last laced on gloves.
You never forget the smell of the gym, the sound of the bell or the roar of the crowd. You never forget that churning feeling in your stomach as you leave the safe haven of your locker room and take the longest walk in sports: halting steps toward a roped-off area with no exit sign.
And then there?s the money.
If you?re a prize fighter, money is the prize you fight over. Belts have meaning. So does history. But the reason they call it prize fighting is the fighters leave with a check.
It has been nearly 30 years since Freddie Roach last received one for fighting another man, but he still remembers vividly not only the biggest payday of his career but where every penny went. Boxing is a sport of rhythm and repetition. Where that check landed is one of its oft-repeated drum beats.
?The IRS came and took it right in the locker room,? Manny Pacquiao?s longtime trainer recalled. ?It was for $13,000. The (Hector) Camacho fight.?
Roach was already at the beginning of the end that night in Sacramento when he lost all but one round to the then-undefeated Camacho. He was locked in a downward spiral, trapped in the midst of losing four of his final five fights. But who could see that coming when the end arrives at 26?
Not Roach. Not, that is, until he took his final walk at the Lowell Auditorium on Oct. 24, 1986, losing a majority decision to a local kid named David Rivello, a loss that made final for Roach the warning his long-departed trainer, Eddie Futch, had given him five fights earlier.
?Eddie told me it was time to retire, but I didn?t want to hear it,? Roach said. ?Like most fighters. He wouldn?t train me no more so my father did. He was a good trainer but after that fight, I knew. If I was losing to a kid like that it was over.??
The end had come far sooner than the Dedham born and raised Roach ever expected. Once he?d been one of the three Fighting Roach Brothers, joining Joey and Pepper on the same card on June 11, 1982 at the Boston Garden, the first of two times that happened. It was a dream come true for a kid who?d been one of New England?s finest amateurs and was then 26-1 as a professional. As with most things in boxing though, it was a dream that didn?t last.
Roach was upset that night, knocked out in his next fight a month later in Las Vegas and his career was never the same. He would box a record 21 times on ESPN but when it was over the IRS took his money and boxing left him with a crippling fight he faces every day. A fight with the neurological disease known as Parkinson?s.
Yet as much as boxing has taken from him, it has also given Roach everything. It has been decades since he had the alias Joe Davis, a name he used while unsuccessfully working as a telemarketer before Futch brought him in as an unpaid assistant trainer. That turned out to be his calling and soon he wasn?t unpaid any more. He was so successful he branched out and ended up with his own gym in Los Angeles, one that has become a boxing icon. Interestingly, so has Roach.
Today, the Wild Card Gym is a destination spot for fighters searching for an ascetic guru. The man they seek is Roach, who at 55 is the sport?s most honored trainer. Nearly 14 years ago, he was sitting in that gym when in walked a skinny Filipino kid, a former world champion who?d lost his title and his way.
Like many in search of new beginnings, Manny Pacquiao had come to America in search of someone willing to train him. Roach knew the big money was in heavyweights not dethroned flyweight champions, but he liked what he saw, although he had no idea where it would lead.
Saturday night they will partner together for the 31st time in the highest grossing fight in boxing history. Pacquiao may gross as much as $120 million to face undefeated welterweight champion Floyd Mayweather Jr., who reportedly could earn $180 million, in a fight that will break every record for gate receipts, pay-per-view sales, sponsorship income and foreign TV rights. The guy from Dedham is going to do all right as well, as he has for years.
?When did a trainer ever make $3 million for one fight?? Roach said while sitting in a quiet corner of a Vegas restaurant. ?I never saw this coming. I?m lucky. I?m a millionaire because of Manny and because I?m pretty cheap.
?I?ve got money in the bank and two people who invest it. I own five houses. I?m a partner in a catering business in San Francisco, but we don?t do the food. The money is in the tables and plates. All the dishes we own have never been clean at the same time. That?s how busy business is.?
It?s not as busy as Roach, who has devised Pacquiao?s fight plan, trained him for two months to execute it and on the side been paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to wear GEICO and Under Armour logos on his athletic equipment. A member of the Boxing Hall of Fame and seven-time Trainer of the Year, life could not be better . . . except when it?s an impossible burden.
That?s on the days when Parkinson?s and two bulging discs in his spine have him in so much pain it?s a fight to roll out of bed at 5 a.m. and head to the Wild Card for one of his 12-hour days. For all his success, which includes working with 27 world champions, Freddie Roach still fights every day. He takes 15 or so pills to ward off the rigidity, uncontrollable shaking and difficulty walking that come with Parkinson?s, and lately has needed several epidurals to dull the incessant pain from those bulging discs.
?I?ve been taking some different medications and haven?t shook for six months,?? said Roach, whose head permanently tilts rigidly to one side and who now walks with a difficult gait. ?I take pills four times a day. Funny thing is when I?m in the ring I don?t have any problems. I work the mitts. I move around. It?s my comfort zone. I?ve been in there my whole life. It?s a place where I?ve always been calm.??
Outside the ring though, the life of the boxing ascetic can be unsettling at times. Roach lives mostly alone, although his mother is close by and he has a wide circle of friends. His brother is in the gym with him and others move in and out, both from back home and throughout Hollywood. Actor Mark Wahlberg, who encompasses both worlds, is among them.
Yet Roach admits at times the physical difficulties from a millionaire?s life in boxing frustrates him. It is then that he remembers what he is.
?I get angry sometimes,?? he said. ?There are tough days. Sometimes it?s hard to get up. I can barely make it to the kitchen. I don?t get depressed but sometimes I get mad at the world. But I?ve done so well in boxing I can?t complain. There?s two sides to everything in life.
?I train the best fighters in the world. I don?t owe anyone anything. Sometimes in camp my back was so sore I could barely walk in the morning. Then I?d start on the mitts with Manny and all the pain went away. It relieved my symptoms for a little while. Even when we?re working in the ring, Manny and I are always smiling.?
Saturday night they?ll be together in the place Roach loves best. In an arena with the world watching to see who comes out a winner. Frankly, whatever happens, he?s already won just by being there.
?People ask me why don?t I retire,? Roach said. ?What would I do? Watch TV all day? Without the gym, I?d have no social life. Boxing?s my life.?
Every life has its ups and downs, certainly nowhere more than in boxing. Freddie Roach made his peace with that long ago. He?s where he wants to be every day but Sunday. That?s the day the Wild Card?s closed.
Freddie Roach hates Sunday.
