There should be championship belts for quality opponents. Without these tough men there would be no world champions. They mark the progress of new prospects; they help keep them in shape; they sharpen the skills of the rising stars; and they do it by fighting tough and being tough even though they have little chance of winning. Their pockets are often filled with little more than applause, spent before the night is over. They take more beatings than most world champions. Their earnings will never cover the costs of increased medical statements. Exchanging health for short flashes of glory is nothing new. Think of such Greek heroes as Achilles, Hector, and Odysseus. They fought not for money but for lasting fame and praise. What today?s boxers lack is a Homer to write their accolades in poetry.
One of the toughest opponents of the 70?s and 80?s was heavyweight Harvey Steichen. His 19-24-1 record is misleading. He did not attempt to build a false record against tomato cans and bar flies, as is often the case today. He fought the best heavyweights of the day. Whenever the phone rang offering him a fight, he took it, no questions asked. ?We did not worry about who we fought in those days,? he said. ?I never looked at a tape or studied an opponent. I was afraid of no one. Offer me a fight and I was there.? That attitude placed him in the ring with some of the most brutal boxers of the era including Frank Bruno, Tony Tucker, and John Tate. ?I went the distance with John Tate. Not many boxers can say that.?
Hearing of Harvey?s reputation, Mike Weaver hired him as his sparring partner. Harvey, always in shape, gave Weaver plenty of work. They became good friends and Harvey often listened to Weaver play piano.
?I have my memories,? said Harvey. ?No one can take that away from me. I did not always win but I never backed down.?
Harvey appreciated the opportunities boxing gave him. Boxing let him travel to parts of the world he would never have gone to including Hawaii. ?I once fought in Africa,? he said. ?I expected to face a black man. I was surprised to see a white guy. He looked just like Baby Huey.? For a moment he smiled as he drifted back to that fight.
Harvey is a quiet, contemplative man, still wire tight and with the cold stare of Sonny Liston. He carries himself in a sophisticated, dignified fashion. If boxing had a senior division he looks like he could step into the ring tomorrow. He might do quite well given today?s heavyweights.
Like many boxers he was lost after retirement. He worked for a time with the Department of Corrections in Arizona but slowly fell into alcoholism. Returning to Spokane he became a hopeless street drunk. There is nothing stupid about Harvey. ?There are no decent fighters who are stupid,? he said. He took a hard look at himself and was determined to get sober. The same courage and determination that kept him in the ring picked him up from the gutter. Now, completely sober, he enjoys the outside and physical work and does lawn maintenance. He finds the work good for the body and good for the soul.
On June 22 he was presented with a special belt in Spokane for his contribution to boxing. He climbed through the ropes like a man who had come home. For a short time, he was again in his natural environment, center ring, a belt around his waist, and his arm raised in victory?Harvey Steichen, world champion opponent.
