Robert Garris is old. Arthritis in his knees means it hurts to run. 25 years working as a barber leaves standing upright a test of endurance. His nose and left shoulder have both been under the knife, his back is next. But within the bowels of the Mount Vernon Boxing Gym, away from the dark, windswept, empty streets of Westchester County/Bronx border, he is the sole occupant. Tonight, Garris has outlasted the kids half his age. While everyone has gone home, he is training harder than ever because January 17, when the opening bell rings, Garris at the age of 45 will become a record breaker.
After a ten year gap, the great George Foreman returned to boxing at the age of 40. A little known Chicago boxer, Herbert ?Doc? Odom made a comeback after 23 years. But for Garris the gap is 25, a world record. His focus however is aimed at his foundation, one that he set-up to reunite foster children with their biological parents. After almost a decade of searching for his own family; he has reunited dozens of others along the way. Now he is using boxing on his a quest to show that age is no barrier to fights in and out of the ring, especially in helping troubled youths.
With speckles of white populating an unkempt beard-moustache combination, Garris sits upright on a stool. He is soaking wet and his coffee colour skin glistens. When he smiles, a gold tooth adds the wink his tired eyes can?t. ?Before my adopted mother died I made a promise to her that I would go back to church,? says Garris. ?When I returned a lady prophesized that I would make a comeback in the ring to help kids. That same year I began the search for my own biological parents.?
A friend suggested getting a camera and recording the process and out of that came a documentary Garris shows to young people in his role as motivational speaker. During the search Garris found out that he had a son who was given up to foster-care system. He adopted him. ?His mother didn?t know who the father was and gave him up. The year 1998 was a very important year for me; it was when I found my son, started training and started looking for my family.?
In 2007, the first attempt to return was a success for boxing and his foundation. Having torn a rotator muscle in his shoulder, Garris was declared unfit to fight, making the fight unofficial. Garris took the fight anyway. Despite fighting right handed, his left arm flailing and swinging in impotence, he won. That night 1300 hundred people from the neighbourhood poured into the Mount Vernon Boys & Girls Club. In the crowd were hundreds of foster children cheering every punch thrown by their new hero.
?He?s like the Rocky Balboa of foster care,? says Richard Adamson II, for whom Garris has acted as guest speaker at a substance abuse centre catered for youths, many from broken homes. ?This generation seems to be more interested in basketball players, but the kids really connected with Rob when we showed them the documentary. He showed them that you can come out of the system. We had a number of kids cry when they watched his film. Every kid wants their hero to take risks.?
It is Garris? work through the foundation now that is the main outlet for him to make a difference. ?When I found my family and that of two of my friends, that?s when I decided to name my foundation The Throwaway Kids Foundation, because we were thrown away to the system. My mother threw me away to the system and that system would not get me my records. I?ve found 37 families before I found my own.?
For Garris, the key is to give hope to children he fears will end up in jail otherwise, like the many that grew up in his neighbourhood. According to the National Association of Social Workers, 80 percent of prison inmates have been through the foster care system. Furthermore children are 11 times more likely to be abused in State care than in their own homes. ?I wanted those numbers to drop,? states Garris.
But despite the drive that Garris undeniably possesses, like every fighter he is at risk when he steps into the ring. ?I have to be honest with you, my knees are bad, my shoulder is bum, I?ve got a pain in my back, but when you see me work, you see I work harder than all those cats. I train because I?ve got to help these kids. That?s everything.?
As he talks, Garris is surrounded by the remnants of the coaching staff at the gym. They sit quietly and patiently. They listen in silence. When they leave they embrace Garris as if he was family. ?Financially I?m good, I?ve got my business, my family, but my foundation is everything. If somebody like ESPN or HBO picked up my story I would not have to take the risk, but because they don?t I have to do this. I don?t want to be a foster kid who ?made it? but then did nothing to help others in foster-care. If I fail I want to know I tried.?
But despite his protestations, the world record looms large over the upcoming fight. For Garris and his legions of neighbourhood supporters it is the fight?s biggest selling point. Not only is it a 45 year old breaking a record, but also a man embarking on a journey of uncertainty. Garris plans to fight five times nationwide before retiring. He aims to fight around the country wherever his newly discovered family members are located. At his final fight, scheduled to take place in California, he will have a very special guest.
?I hope to have my biological mother at my last fight. It will be the first time that I will meet her.?
Before leaving at the end of a long day Garris recalls how he applied for a boxing license. Making his way to the twentieth floor of a building in New York?s Financial District he entered the headquarters of the New York State Athletic Commission. He handed in his papers.
?The lady at the commission asked me, ?Are you sure? Was your last fight in 95? or 85??? said Garris. ?I replied 1985. So she brought somebody from the back of the office and pointed in surprise, ?Look he?s here to fight.? Laughing she added, ?I?m going to save a space right here to hang a picture of you.?
