“I would rather be a good liver than have one.”-Bon vivant Bert Randolph Sugar
He was boxing’s Original Cat In The Hat and now Bert Randolph Sugar is gone. The fight game’s most prolific writer, a Good Humor Man always in a sport filled with megalomaniacs and other misfits, is dead at age 75. The author of 80 books and the former editor of The Ring magazine, Sugar was rarely seen in public in recent months. Sugar was never seen in fistic circles minus his fedora and his constantly lit and well chewed cigars. He also had the sartorial audacity to show up at ringside wearing pants emblazoned with drawings of whales. Evidently, Sugar battles cancer and went into cardiac arrest on Sunday. Sugar lived with his family in Chappaqua, Westchester County, and he liked to tell a perhaps true story of being swarmed over by Secret Service agents when he drunkenly stumbled across the lawn of Bill and Hillary Clinton, his neighbors. Advertisement
One of my favorite verbal pearls of wisdom that flowed from Sugar’s lips was his description of boxing’s world governing bodies and how they generally conduct business. “They take the money under the table, they take it over the table and they take it behind the table,” Sugar would growl. “Eventually. they just take the whole damned table.” Some in boxing “work at” being a colorful character. Sugar did not have to, he was a genuine character, a throwback to an era when sports journalists spent more hours in saloons than at a health club. In fact, when he ran The Ring, Sugar customarily received vistors at O”Reilly’s, an Irish bar on West 30th Street in Manhattan. The magazine had fiscal problems and many writers, including myself, got Ring checks that bounced like an NBA regulation basketball. I made a call to Sugar demanding my literary compensation. “Your $300 check bounced?” Sugar said to me. “How about I write you one for $500?” I had to laugh. Some years ago, Sugar lost a noticeable amount of weight. He told everyone he was only drinking martinis. “It’s the Drinking Man’s Diet,” Sugar would say. “So far, I’ve lost three weeks.” Somewhere, in my Cape Cod garage, I have a rare historical photo, one I took myself at the Astroworld Hotel in Houston before the Jimmy Ellis-Muhammad Ali fight. It’s a photo of Mr. Bert Sugar, sans hat and sans any hair on his head. Instead of peddling it on Ebay, if I can find it I will donate it to the International Boxing Hall Of Fame. Boxing and baseball historian, always amusing raconteur and a guy who could write a book seemingly in one afternoon, Sugar’s absence will be felt most in the media center at the upcoming Mayweather and Pacquiao bouts. That’s where Sugar felt most at home, spinning yarns about Irish Billy Conn or his hapless hometown Washington Senators baseball team. When the press center closed for the night, Sugar would shift his tall tales and witticisms to the nearest bar. Sugar will get the traditional ringside 10 count. I personally plan to toast him in the MGM Grand lobby bar where he did so much of his best “work.” Rest in peace, gentleperson and boxing maven. ([email protected])
