Mon 09 Oct 2006 06:24:14

Name :	Tom, Campus Cop
Email :	Tale 1,The Kidnapping
Message	During my early coaching career and as a policeman on leave from the department for my senior year in college at UTEP, 1970-71, I was also hired as Sgt. In Charge of Criminal Investigations for the college. As such, I learned that the Administration was much more interested in parking ticket revenue than solving campus crimes. Chief Jim Petzold, my direct boss, and aware that we were both certified police officers by the state of Texas and sworn to do our duty, decided to take the chance and investigate campus crime and try to bring the culprits to justice. We became very successful immediately with small crimes being solved and some criminal students prosecuted and kicked out of school. But the V.P. in charge of us was a real ass about having students arrested. And then thankfully, a new Vice President in charge of our office, who came from back east,was hired, met with us and was all for going after serious offenders on campus and having justice meted out accordingly. Some of the campus coaches didn't like that deal at all. They had met with me and said they were already on top of criminal behavior committed by campus athletes and some had hundreds of demerits. I was like, "What?" I let them know in no uncertain terms that athletes, students, college personnel and others on campus caught doing crimes would be arrested, booked and hopefully, prosecuted to the full extent of the law just as any citizen in El Paso was held accountable if they committed a crime. The campus may seem a seprate entity to them but it was still under the City, County, State and Federal jurisdictions rather they liked it or not. They didn't like it. Shortly after some heated meetings with some college students, I was given the A-Ok go ahead from them as well after a speech I gave which pinpointed my main goals: protecting their lives, their rights, their property and their privacy, school property, school personnel and safety. And then came the first big test. I was in my office when I got the call that Dave B., a student athletic trainer had been kidnapped. Dave was from Okalhoma and had some family memebers considered wealthy. I wasn't able to make contact with my FBI buddy, assigned to the campus for a semester or two, but I did know that it was too early and they probably weren't on the case. Matter of fact, nobody knew crap or if the kidnapping had really happened. Something was fishy. Indeed, I was called to another V.P. 's office just the day before and told that I couldn't carry my gun on campus any more even though it was concealed. I really didn't think he had the authority to do that but while the V.P.'s battled, I decided to just leave my pistol in my vehicle. The bullshit that students were complaining about me carrying a gun was totally without merit. Most students didn't even know I had a gun. What might have got the administrations ire up was the fact that I was investigating the daughter of a secretary to the President of the college. I was obtaining more and more evidence that she might have had had her hand in a a supposedly padlocked tuition box where students had placed cash for the next semester classes. If true, then she had been pretty sneaky about her methods by using the letterhead envelopes of the President and mailing them with cash to a post office box in West El Paso. I had been on top of that investigation when the so-called kidnapping occurred. My FBI buddy got back to me. No official missing report on Dave had come about. No ransom that we knew of existed with his family. It was strange because Dave really was missing. I know because I checked and he wasn't in some classes I knew he took. And I was well acquainted with him as a fellow student in many classes we took together. And then came the call. Yep, I get a call from Barry Hall , a place where male athletes are housed, and told that if I go to the 6th floor, a student athlete has some important information for me about Dave. I was certainly leery to say the least. I wasn't a favorite son at Barry Hall. Contemplating problems,I had a few weeks earlier arranged to get a policeman friend of mine, Ed Maynard, hired part-time on campus. I called Eddie right away and told him to come loaded for bear as I wasn't going to be carrying heat. Eddie arrived and we went over to Barry Hall. A former member of the famous 1966 Miner NCAA Championship Basketball Team was at the desk. I asked him if he knew anything about the contact and he just told me that I would have to go to the 6th floor. As we rode the elevator up, I told Eddie to have his hand on his Magnum when the door opened as a precaution. Sure enough, as the elevator stopped and the doors slowly opened, there was a near 300 pound lineman, dressed only in a dirty T-shirt and shorts,with a huge belly, ready to carve me up with what looked like a Bowie knife. A gang of mean-ass looking toughs were all around him and ready to pounce. However, that huge Magnum was instantly in the lineman's ('R') face and I shouted out as I pretended to draw a weapon from beneath my coat, "Mother Fucker 'R' dies first and who wants to be the next eleven?" The group was quickly silent and I pressed the down button. The door closed agonizingly slow and 'R' made a last second attempt to stop it by reaching in with the knife. Eddie clunked him good on the wrist and he pulled back instantly. Down we went. when we left the elevator and walked towards the entry/exit door to Barry Hall, I did throw a finger to the desk guy. And I put a bunch of those other guys in jail over the next few months. As for Dave, it is still a question mark in my mind. He was supposedly held on the 6th floor of Barry Hall, tied to a chair and let loose when someone, supposedly from Okalahoma, paid a small ransom. I never knew that for sure and neither did my FBI friend. At least he was cut loose and he became the head trainer at UTEP for a long time before getting a bigger payday in Arizona where he is today. As for 'R.' Hee Haw, my buddy with U.S. Customs, George Hirsch (deceased), nailed him good with a drug load. As for the theft of student money, I did get the evidence and how the money was transferred. However, the D.A.s office conveniently decided not to prosecute. Most of you know how that goes. As for me, even though I graduated as a 'Top-Ten Senior' and made the campus a hell of a lot safer for students and other personnel, and even though I was later chosen as Chief of Police for the campus, some political chicanery occurred and I was out and that was that.But it wasn't many years away from hooking up with the "Magic Man," Cliff Thomas. Those championship years would be the greatest ride of all. Next story...Rape on Campus.

Mon 17 Jul 2006 10:41:39

Name :	Tom
Email :	Where Is My Damned Ring
Message	Part II Part I.... I once rented a space for a boxing gym, the Eastside Boxing Club, on Airways Boulevard in El Paso, Texas back in the 1980's. Next, I needed a ring. I searched for a spell and then got sort of lucky. A County commissioner (Now Deceased) named Richard Telles (Brother of former Mayor and Ambassador, Raymond Telles), just happened to have an old sixteen foot ring that he had in an open-wire dumpster at one of his tenemants in El Paso. He had a bunch of those places and was regarded as quite wealthy. Anyway, the ring was in pieces and some pieces were missing. It had been made decades before and was more like a jigsaw puzzle than a boxing ring. But, it was cheap. Richard let me have the ring for a cool one hundred dollars. Of course, he stipulated that I would have to haul all the pieces out of the bin which was some twelve feet high. Fortunately, a friend of mine, Mario Vela, who was in construction, juat happened to have some equipment and workers to get the job done. But, it was real tough. The steel corners were some ten inches thick of steel and six feet high. Each weighed in over 300 pounds. Getting them lifted twelve feet high and out and into a truck called for genius ideas. We made pulleys for the occassion and were pretty damned proud to be successful. We had to make four trips in all to get all the ring parts. At the gym, it was another trying ordeal to haul all the ring stuff into the building and try and set it up. Since the metal pieces and heavy wire strands were once numbered but now faded, we were faced with the task of tyring to figure out where each base piece went. After two days of trial and error we finally got it right. Whew! It was not a labor of love. A couple of tiimes we thought we had the right combination only to step into the ring and have it collapse on us. To make sure we wouldn't have a repeat performance later on, we labeled the parts once we had the ring set up correctly.And we bought or made parts to complete the ring. My small gym was now nearly complete. I had three speed bags, four heavy bags, a double-end bag, a weight lifting area for boxers, a stationary bike and the 16 foot ring. I already had a few boxers from my old stint at Ft. Bliss and some new kids that wanted to be boxers. I also had a few businessmen who either wanted to try out boxing as a training and weight regimen or because they had been threatened by someone at work and wanted to be ready just in case, or, in the case of one married dude who wanted to get down and dirty with the guy his wife was cheating with. I also had young David 'Nino' Rodriguez (Now 23-0 as a professional and Texas Heavyweight Champion), who wanted to box because he was afraid of the Cholo's at his grade school. So, things were good. And they got better. The late Rocky Galarza, quite famous around El Paso parts, had his gym outside of his bar (Rocky's Bar). He needed an inside place for bad weather days. We had both previously tutored under the late Maurticio 'Chito' Barragan and we had been Co-trainers after Chito's early demise at The Carolina Center where we ruled amateur boxing in the area. Anyway, we teamed up again. Our club was called Eastside/Rocky's. We were ever so successful. I had my own son's, Mike and Les, who went undefeated in their amateur careers.We had Ernie Lazcano, David Rodriguez, Ricky Leon, Sal Caballero, Dwayne Reed, and a host of other fighters who did quite well. I even trained a 13 year old kid named Ricky Martinez, who in his first fight, disposed of the J.O . National Champion, a kid who was 19-0. Ricky won everything in sight after that and was set for the big time when he was beaten ugly with baseball bats by a gang in Juarez and though he lived, he had brain damage and his boxing career was over at age 14. David Rodriguez also won his first fight many years later at the Chile Festival in Las Cruces, New Mexico by knocking out the reigning National J.O. Champion. But, hey, things suddenly turned sour. After some five years at the gym, new owners came in from Mexico and suddenly, I was told to leave. I was heartbroken. I closed the gym and had to dismantle the ring again. I was lucky that another boxing coach, Jake Martinez, had a business place with a storage are where I could put the ring. Sadly I did so. Go to part II

Mon 17 Jul 2006 10:40:23

Name :	Tom
Email :	Where Is My Damned Ring
Message	Part II A couple of months passed and I couldn't arrange the financing for a new gym. And then I got the call. It was Richard Tellez. He gave me a real sob story about how some kids in a local housing project were just getting into boxing and deperately needed a ring. He pleaded with me to show my good heartedness and donate the ring to them until they had a grant writer get the funding for a new one. Like the sucker I usually am in these type of matters, I gave in and told Richard that it would be okay but that they would have to pick it up and put it together. He was so happy and thanked me so much for helping out the poor kids. But, I told him it was only for a few months at which time I expected to have another gym. After a few months, I did get an opportunity for a new place to put in a boxing gym. So, I went to the Housing Authority to give them a deadline for use of my ring.Hahahaha! What a joke. The administrator and boxing coach never heard of my ring. They had a six thousand dollar new one, paid for by our government, meaning a little bit of me too. Ooops! I had been had again. Richard had some tall explaining to do. Richard was a real charlatan at times. When I finally got past his bevy of pretty young Mexican secretaries at his office and confronted him, he gave me that old tired song about how bad business was and how sick he had been. He tried to ignore the 'Ring' issue. Finally, like he had just come out of fifteen minutes of dementia, he shed some tears and claimed that a church group in New Mexico had received the ring because the Housing Authority had already obtained a new one. He would notify them quickly and get my ring back. He went on the phone and must have called an ally. Anyway, he assured me I would have my ring back in just a few days. I didn't. And Richard was no- where to be found. Damn, I was mad. Time passed and my thirst for Richard's blood cooled somewhat. And David Rodriguez was getting big. He was near seventeen, a little over six-foot tall and 188 pounds. He was sparring well. He wasn't dedicated to his fitness though and though he could whip nearly anyone around for two rounds, I kept telling him that there were no two round world championships; that he needed to move up his training and his sparring. For a while, he did and he looked good. So good that boxing manager and promoter, Ron Weathers, who had a palace in Ruidoso, New Mexico, obtained after some heavy money he made off George Foreman,wanted me to bring David to spar his camp of heavyweights, including Ernie Shavers, who was making a comeback at close to 50 years of age. David and I went to Ron's place and it was a beauty. But his gym was over in the old closed bowling alley. After lunch and some rest, we went to the gym. As we walked in, I noticed that the ring looked mighty familar. So familar that I asked Ron where he got it. He told me he bought it from Richard Telles for six hundred dollars. What??? Son-of-a-Gun, I had really been suckered. Oh well, we were there to spar. David sparred most of the heavies and held his own quite well. He even stunned old man Shavers and I think Ernie realized then and there that he wasn't going anywhere in the division. That is sad because in his prime, even Ali evidently ducked away from Shavers at 28-0. Jimmy Young, a great heavy and who has spent time with my son and I, once told me that most ranked heavies of that era wanted no part of Ernie. Okay, back in El Pao, I couldn't get to Richard and I couldn't find an attorney to deal with the issue. Everything had been done by word of mouth. I did work the international bridge part time and worked the line from vehicles entering the United states. I had such a joyful time one night when Richard happened to try and cross about 3:00 a.m. one Sunday morning. I won't go into the details but I gave him two choices. He took the second and returned to Mexico. I alerted the other bridges should he try and go through their locations. I think he spent the night in Juarez, Mexico. I had just about given up on my ring when I went to some fights in Anthony, Texas. Whoa horse, it was my ring again. And two pro's collapsed in it while battling. It had been set up wrong. Louie burke, a past ESPN Champion had bought the ring from Ron Weathers (one grand I think), who suddenly went near broke and lost everything in Ruidoso. I actually had to laugh at the situation. Years go by and local boxing coach, Johnny Ybarra, gets hired by the Tigua Indians to teach their kids some boxing. One day Johnny calls me to come out and see the work he is doing for the Tribe. I drive out, get permission to enter the reservation and meet Johhny. He has his basic equipment in a building but his ring is outside. That is, my ring is outside. What a frickin deal. The Tribe had bought the ring in New Mexico for some 1200 dollars. I told Johnny and then he too realized it was my ring. Johnny didn't get the money he was promised and he left the Tigua's. A year or so later there were some fights staged outside a bar near UTEP on Mesa Street. It is an area crowded with fast food places, many bars, hot babes, panting male students and young exec's, a few prostitutes and everything one hears in Toby Keith's song, "I Like This Bar." And yes, you guessed it: the outdoor ring was my ring once again. I didn't say a word though. I just wonder how much they paid for it. I don't know where my ring is now. But, shouild I live long enough, I'm sure I'll run across it again, just like with old friend's. Old friend's not unlike Richard Tellez. Hahaha!

Thu 13 Jul 2006 03:31:44

Name :	Tom
Email :	Red Dog Afternoon
Message	Randy 'Tex' Cobb and myself once went to a Western Niteclub, "The Red Dog Saloon" way out on the outskirts of El Paso, Texas. It was about 4:00 P.M. in the afternoon. Randy was barefooted but no one apparently noticed until we were seated and ordered a couple of beers. The place was relatively empty except about three tables to our right were a group of tough looking Cowboys. All of them were well over 200 pounds. All of them were pretty damn drunk already. All of them cast some dirty looks our way. All of them got really pissed off when Randy asked our foxy waitress to dance with him. She did and Randy, though built like a big lumbering log,is one hell of a Western Swinger. He really put on a clinic and that incensed the drunkard cowboy's even more. All of them started making snide remarks while Randy was hotfooting it with the hot babe.But when the remarks got a little too much, things changed quickly. Randy danced ever so close to the four drunk cowboys, suddenly excused his partner, and confronted every one of those four toughs.All of them looked at each other as to who or whom would face up to the huge man, now growling in their surprised and reddened faces. Randy invited them to 'Dance' with him, not regular dancing but a dance of blood and flesh. The big, tough, drunken, thuggish cowboys did some hurried voting as to who would take on this scraggly stranger. They hee-hawed about for a spell and not a single one of them offered to take up the challenge. So, Randy and I drank our beer, he danced with the lovely lass a few more times, and then we set out to leave in my very old tiny Triumph 3 convertible. However, one of the dudes, supposedly a karate expert and bodyguard for President Nixon on his trip to Mexico, with his three compatriots behind him, attempted to make a confrontation at the exit. I'm not totally sure that I remember the following events, but I do know that Randy laid a few bodies out and we hustled to my car, leaped over the doors and took off as fast as that little toy Triumph would go. I can't tell the rest of the story because I don't recall the exact events. But I am sure glad that no one was hurt enough to have the law involved. Well, I'm not sure about that either. Have A Happy

Thu 13 Jul 2006 03:27:04

Name :	Tom
Email :	Red Dog Afternoon
Message	Randy 'Tex' Cobb and myself once went to a Western Niteclub, "The Red Dog Saloon" way out on the outskirts of El Paso, Texas. It was about 4:00 P.M. in the afternoon. Randy was barefooted but no one apparently noticed until we were seated and ordered a couple of beers. The place was relatively empty except about three tables to our right were a group of tough looking Cowboys. All of them were well over 200 pounds. All of them were pretty damn drunk already. All of them cast some dirty looks our way. All of them got really pissed off when Randy asked our foxy waitress to dance with him. She did and Randy, though built like a big lumbering log,is one hell of a Western Swinger. He really put on a clinic and that incensed the drunkard cowboy's even more. All of them started making snide remarks while Randy was hotfooting it with the hot babe.But when the remarks got a little too much, things changed quickly. Randy danced ever so close to the four drunk cowboys, suddenly excused his partner, and confronted every one of those four toughs.All of them looked at each other as to who or whom would face up to the huge man, now growling in their surprised and reddened faces. Randy invited them to 'Dance' with him, not regular dancing but a dance of blood and flesh. The big, tough, drunken, thuggish cowboys did some hurried voting as to who would take on this scraggly stranger. They hee-hawed about for a spell and not a single one of them offered to take up the challenge. So, Randy and I drank our beer, he danced with the lovely lass a few more times, and then we set out to leave in my very old tiny Triumph 3 convertible. However, one of the dudes, supposedly a karate expert and bodyguard for President Nixon on his trip to Mexico, with his three compatriots behind him, attempted to make a confrontation at the exit. I'm not totally sure that I remember the following events, but I do know that Randy laid a few bodies out and we hustled to my car, leaped over the doors and took off as fast as that little toy Triumph would go. I can't tell the rest of the story because I don't recall the exact events. But I am sure glad that no one was hurt enough to have the law involved. Well, I'm not sure about that either. Have A Happy

Thu 29 Jun 2006 10:41:43

Name :	Tom
Email :	Cliff's Dallas coach
Message	Walt Mason, a Texas Karate legend, led Cliff to his comeback 6th world Kickboxing Championship. Here are some stats on the late, great Walt Mason. WALT MASON bought the Texas Karate Institute from Allen Steen in 1978. He continued to own and operate the school with his partner Barry Guimbellot. In 1980, he and his wife Bonnie opened World Martial Arts Supplies. In 1978 MR MASON also took over the Texas Amateur Contact Karate Association, which is the governing body for amateur kickboxing in Texas. As Chairman of TACKA, MR MASON instituted a ratings program and published the tabloid news publication "The Martial Arts informant", which was originally created to publish kickboxing ratings and highlights and recognize fighters, coaches and promoters. TACKA now sanctions events in six other states including Oklahoma, New Mexico, Arizona, Tennessee, Arkansas and Louisiana. Out of state, TACKA is referred to as the Amateur Contact Karate Association. Currently there are over 2200 fighters registered with TACKA. In 1980 he began training and managing amateur and professional kickboxers and promoting kickboxing and boxing shows. He took many fighters to professional world titles including Santae Wilson Jr, ISKA World Welterweight Champion; CARL SKLAVOS, ISKA World Flyweight Champion; NORRIS WILLIAMS, KICK World Welterweight Champion and most currently trained CLIFF "MAGIC" THOMAS to his 6th PKA, ISKA and KICK World Kickboxing Championship in May 2001. MR MASON'S final promotion was his 56th kickboxing event, highlighted CLIFF THOMAS winning a KICK World Kickboxing title. After years of promoting, charitable fund raising steering a successful and proud Texas Karate Institute and helping bring forth many Black Belts, MR MASON was inducted into the Texas Martial Arts Hall of Fame in May 2000. MR MASON served on the Board of Governors for the American Karate Black Belt Association along with his very close personal friends, MR J PAT BURLESON and MR BOB NUTALL. On August 2001, MR MASON passed, leaving his mark on the community and the world of martial arts as we know it. MR MASON is survived by his wife Bonnie and three Black Belt children; Michelle, David and Nikki. Accomplishing more than he probably ever knew was possible and with plans for so much more. The people he touched with his life and his compassion will no doubt continue the path in which he headed down. For in his eyes, "Success is a journey, not a destination." Have A Happy

Sat 24 Jun 2006 11:27:24

Name :	Tom
Email :	Do You Have A Spare?
Message	One of Randy Cobb's associates from Philadelphia used to come to El Paso often with manager Paul Clinite and Randy. We were all having a meal at our favorite hangout, the Truck Stop at 6666 Gateway East,when Mr. Brown, who was black, noticed how sad I was. He inquired about my unhappiness. I told him I was going through a bad divorce that really hurt me deep. He looked at me real strange like and said, "Do you drive a car on trips?" "Yes, of course," I said. "Do you take a spare with you on a trip," he asked me. "Why yes, of course, who wouldn't carry a spare on a trip,I retorted?" He then asked me how long I had been married. I told him, "Over eighteen years." He broke out with the slickest smile this side of a carnival carnie and said, "You went on a long trip with your wife and were too dumb to carry a spare and now you want some pity? Plan better next time , okay my good man?" Have A Happy

Mon 05 Jun 2006 06:22:56

Name :	Tom
Email :	The Three Musketeers
Message	While karate black belt Randall 'Tex' Cobb was living with me and training for a boxing future, occasionally we went to a bar with dancing girls and had a pitcher of beer...or more in Randy's case. One night we picked up one of Texas' toughest street fighter's, Dennis Scanlan,and went to one of my old friend's, Jerry Stewart's bars. We sat at a table about twenty feet from the main bar and started drinking some beer. A lovely young Mexican lass then jumped on the bar and started dancing for the patrons. Jerry wasn't around and the pretty darling begin to take off more than allowed by Texas law. That really fired Randy up. With every seat at the bar taken and the crowd there, many already drunk, getting boisterous and standing up and hooting and hollering, Randy became incensed. He couldn't get a good look. So, he calmly left his chair, approached the bar, shoved two men aside and grabbed the dancing beauty. She was in shock as was I and was kicking and scratching at Randy as he brought her to our table and placed her neatly in the middle of it and told her to dance for us. She suddenly wasn't all that perturbed and actually started dancing for us. I guess she liked Randy's brand of chivalry. The crowd was mean and antsy though. A few threats came our way as did a couple of tough looking buffoons. Randy had his back to them and I informed him of that fact muy pronto. In less time than a flick of the fingers, Randy jumped to his feet and was in his fighting stance and with even more bravado, daring the toughs to come and get their just medicine. The surprised goons stopped short of Randy's range (He was about 6'5" and 260 pounds then)and pretended they could hold their ground. Randy gave them the old 'Sheriff's' notice,not only to the two big bruiser looking types but to every single patron in the bar except Dennis and I, thankfully:"Everybody out of here in thirty seconds or I will whip each and every one of your asses and throw you out!" To my utter amazement, everyone left the bar. Not without some nasty gestures and threats though. That worried me as much as if we had been involved in a big rumble. Dennis and I didn't want an encore of a previous like situation when after a fight with some drunks in another bar on Piedras street in El Paso,the loser's left but were back with guns in less than thirty minutes. We had anticipated that move and watched them in our car from a distance. Randall didn't seem concerned at all. He drank, giggled and made a few harmless thigh touches on his 'Playmate' who was now dancing just for him. The bartender had been busy too. He had called Jerry at another bar he owned, The New Yorker on Dyer street, and evidently informed him of the ugly going-on's. So while Randy was enjoying his sexy whirligig, Dennis and I were more inclined to keep a watchful eye out on the bartender and the door. And that is when the crap hit the fan. I didn't even know it myself for a few seconds. Jerry had burst into the room from a side door that was towards the back of the bar. And lickety-split, he was on us in a heartbeat. And he had a big 45 pistol aimed right at Randy's head. Luckily, Jerry recognized me and I played the best arbitrator role of my life. I hadn't a clue as to how effective it would be but I sure knew that Jerry wouldn't hesitate to fill us full of holes if I didn't come up with a sensible explanation of the events and if any of us made the wrong move or the wrong judgement. Thankfully, Jerry bought my take on the events that transpired and gave us an ultimatum:"leave or die, now!" Randy seemed to want to possibly challenge Jerry's authority (because he had plans for the sweet thing) but thought better of it as the muzzle of the 45 was since Jerry arrived, aimed directly at the big man. I was so thankful for the refreshing cold air of the wintry evening and though I would later pow-wow with Jerry, I was ever so happy that he didn't put us six feet under at that critical time. Have A Happy

Sun 04 Jun 2006 06:30:55

Name :	Tom
Email :	Chicken Little
Message	Back in 1974, Randall 'Tex' Cobb, later to become the 'Big White Heavyweight Hope' and movie star, lived with me at 6333 Weiland Way in El Paso as he was at that time a karate star but needing a lot of cash and seeking a boxing career. I was undergoing a divorce. He had signed with promoter Paul Clinite and I was to teach him just a few basics before he would be sent to Joe Frazier's in Philadelphia. Our routine finished around eight every evening and then Randy would make the bar scene and chase the girlies. Boy, could he ever do the country dances...and barefooted at that. I was told to run him nearly every day as he needed to lose some thirty pounds. I could only do that late at night or early in the morning. It worked out pretty well. Well excepting the fact that at the end of our run (about five miles), there was an all night truck stop restaurant at 6666 Gateway East. They had these small plastic table signs with speicals for Catfish or Fried Chicken, "All you can eat for $1.99." Randy was always hungry rather he was working out or not.And he just loved fried chicken. So every night after our run, he would scarf down five or six chickens. One night he even ate eight chickens; maybe it was eleven, I'm not sure. It was one hell of a lot of chicken, I guarantee. After a couple of weeks of this heavy eating and with our favorite waitress, Tillie, always so happy to see us and just glow at watching Randy wolf down all that chicken, things changed. Yep, one night we came in and our favorite gal had a long, gloomy face. We thought she was having a problem of her own and urged her to tell us her troubles. She then smiled just a teeny bit and then picked up the plastic sign next to us and Randy and I read it and we couldn't help but break out laughing. The little menu sign said,"All the catfish or chicken you can eat except Randall 'Tex Cobb, limit three." Have a Happy

Sun 04 Jun 2006 06:28:49

Name :	Tom
Email :	Chicken Little
Message	Back in 1974, Randall 'Tex' Cobb, later to become the 'Big White Hevayweight Hope' and movie star, lived with me at 6333 Weiland Way in El Paso as he was at that time a karate star but needing a lot of cash and seeking a boxing career. I was undergoing a divorce. He had signed with promoter Paul Clinite and I was to teach him just a few basics before he would be sent to Joe Frazier's in Philadelphia. Our routine finished around eight every evening and then Randy would make the bar scene and chase the girlies. Boy, could he ever do the country dances...and barefooted at that. I was told to run him nearly every day as he needed to lose some thirty pounds. I could only do that late at night or early in the morning. It worked out pretty well. Well excepting the fact that at the end of our run (about five miles), there was an all night truck stop restaurant at 6666 Gateway East. They had these small plastic table signs with speicals for Catfish or Fried Chicken, "All you can eat for $1.99." Randy was always hungry rather he was working out or not.And he just loved fried chicken. So every night after our run, he would scarf down five or six chickens. One night he even ate eight chickens; maybe it was eleven, I'm not sure. It was one hell of a lot of chicken, I guarantee. After a couple of weeks of this heavy eating and with our favorite waitress, Tillie, always so happy to see us and just glow at watching Randy wolf down all that chicken, things changed. Yep, one night we came in and our favorite gal had a long, gloomy face. We thought she was having a problem of her own and urged her to tell us her troubles. She then smiled just a teeny bit and then picked up the plastic sign next to us and Randy and I read it and we couldn't help but break out laughing. The little menu sign said,"All the catfish or chicken you can eat except Randall 'Tex Cobb, limit three." Have a Happy

Sun 04 Jun 2006 06:08:53

Name :	Tom
Email :	Tex/Mex
Message	In the late 70's, my son Les was the only 'Gringo' entered in the 'Low Rider's Boxing Tournament' at the historical Plaza Theater in El Paso, Texas. In the two day tournament, Les beat three of the best Mexican fighters in the area and after his victory in the finals, was picked up by the crowd and carried on the shoulders of a husky Mexican and an entourage around the ring about three times to the shouts of "Olay! Olay! Olay! That was a very touching scene to say the least. Mexican's and American Mexican's are highly respectful of one who shows determination and skills in sporting events regardless of nationality. Les was also voted the 'Best fighter' of the tournament and picked up two monster trophies for his efforts. Have A Happy

Sun 04 Jun 2006 05:37:48

Name :	Tom
Email :	"I See It"
Message	In the Winter of 1967, one of my boxing mentor's amd renowned coach from El Paso, Texas, Chito Barragan (See top story for reference), landed a nice prospect out of Bel Air High school. The kid had a streamlined body, like he was really sleek but so well cut. The kid was also the star running back for the Bel Air football team. And he learned the boxing craft fast. After about two months of basics and hundreds of rounds of sparring, Chito decided to turn the kid loose. In Juarez, Mexico, the kid had his first fight and he won by a first round knockout. He followed that victory up with four sensational knockouts over pretty damn good opposition. Chito then stepped up the caliber of competition and the kid responded, beating the local novice Golden Gloves champion. Not bad for a beginner. So, Chito took a gamble and went back to Juarez and took on their top light welterweight in his backyard. Again, the kid came through with flying colors and knocked out the tough Mexican in the second round. Next up, Chito got an invite to bring the kid to Las Cruces, New Mexico and take on rough and tough Mike Ortiz. Ortiz was a little bit of a troubled teenager and the late but respected boxing coach, Sammy Burke, had taken the kid under his wing and really straightened him out. He did so well with Mike that he finished in the semi-finals at the AAU National Championships at San Diego, California in 1967. Mike destroyed four state champions before being split-decisioned against Quincelan Daniels, a four-time national champion. And that decision was heavily disputed. Mike later became an Army boxing champion. Chito knew it would take a real perfect outing to beat Mike in his backyard (Las Cruces Judges are sometimes just so fanatic for their home boys that they give them the decision when they clearly lose). Ortiz, never down in his career, would under no circumstances be likely to be stopped or even downed by Chito's fighter. However, the kid was much faster than Mike and might easily fight from the outside and win the numbers battle handily. And that was the stategy when Chito accepted the challenge. When the two fighters were finally engaged in action, it was the Kid that took the fight to Mike. He literally landed more than a ten to one advantage in the first round. His blazing hand speed seemed to frustrate Mike though the New Mexian Champion did look very cool when returning to his corner. In the second round, the Kid blitzed Mike in the first few seconds and didn't even give Mike a chance to counter due to the consistent flow of combinations. A couple of shots were direct hits on the chin and though Mike wobbled slightly, he never changed facial expressions or showed any sign of going down. And then, there it was: The Kid decided he was going to take Mike out and instead of staying outside and doing his flashy work,jumped inside with his hands just a blur as they sought out Mikes head and face. And the cagey veteran wasn't in awe at all. This was his territroy, his type of fight. He took the battering from the Kid, weaved a couple of times at short range,slanted inside and just exploded an uppercut to the Kid's belly and a left hook to his head. Even though the kid blocked the hook, it was steaming and still hurt. And just as suddenly as it all began, it stopped. The Kid ran backwards, fell on one knee and rubbed his hand against his right eye. The ref sent Mike to a neutral corner and when he went to the Kid, the kid spit out his moutpiece and yelled out for all to hear, "He stuck something in my eye, it is blinding me." The ref carefully looked in the Kid's eye and not able to locate a problem, called the attending physician onto the ring. The physicain put his light in the eye and checked it real well. At that time, Chito approached and asked the doctor ,"What did you find?" The doctor said, "I don't see anything yet." Chito asked, "Can I Look?" "Why I guess that would be okay." said the doctor. So, Chito, with the doctor's pen-light, took the middle finger of his right hand to push the eyelid up and the thumb of his right hand to push the lower eyelid down and used his left hand to guide the little beam from the pen-light. Suddenly, he exclaimed,"I see it, I see it." To which the amazed and startled kid said," You do? What is it?" Chito continued to look in the kids eyes as even the doctor and refereee suddenly closed in for a closer look. While everyone was straining to see what Chito saw, the old master took his hands away from the Kids eye, put them under his cheek and looking straightforward said,"It's spelled 'F-E-A-R.' Have a Happy Oops!It was 1967.

Sun 04 Jun 2006 05:33:28

Name :	Tom
Email :	"I See It"
Message	In the Winter of 1997, one of my boxing mentor's amd renowned coach from El Paso, Texas, Chito Barragan (See top story for reference), landed a nice prospect out of Bel Air High school. The kid had a streamlined body, like he was really sleek but so well cut. The kid was also the star running back for the Bel Air football team. And he learned the boxing craft fast. After about two months of basics and hundreds of rounds of sparring, Chito decided to turn the kid loose. In Juarez, Mexico, the kid had his first fight and he won by a first round knockout. He followed that victory up with four sensational knockouts over pretty damn good opposition. Chito then stepped up the caliber of competition and the kid responded, beating the local novice Golden Gloves champion. Not bad for a beginner. So, Chito took a gamble and went back to Juarez and took on their top light welterweight in his backyard. Again, the kid came through with flying colors and knocked out the tough Mexican in the second round. Next up, Chito got an invite to bring the kid to Las Cruces, New Mexico and take on rough and tough Mike Ortiz. Ortiz was a little bit of a troubled teenager and the late but respected boxing coach, Sammy Burke, had taken the kid under his wing and really straightened him out. He did so well with Mike that he finished in the semi-finals at the AAU National Championships at San Diego, California in 1967. Mike destroyed four state champions before being split-decisioned against Quincelan Daniels, a four-time national champion. And that decision was heavily disputed. Mike later became an Army boxing champion. Chito knew it would take a real perfect outing to beat Mike in his backyard (Las Cruces Judges are sometimes just so fanatic for their home boys that they give them the decision when they clearly lose). Ortiz, never down in his career, would under no circumstances be likely to be stopped or even downed by Chito's fighter. However, the kid was much faster than Mike and might easily fight from the outside and win the numbers battle handily. And that was the stategy when Chito accepted the challenge. When the two fighters were finally engaged in action, it was the Kid that took the fight to Mike. He literally landed more than a ten to one advantage in the first round. His blazing hand speed seemed to frustrate Mike though the New Mexian Champion did look very cool when returning to his corner. In the second round, the Kid blitzed Mike in the first few seconds and didn't even give Mike a chance to counter due to the consistent flow of combinations. A couple of shots were direct hits on the chin and though Mike wobbled slightly, he never changed facial expressions or showed any sign of going down. And then, there it was: The Kid decided he was going to take Mike out and instead of staying outside and doing his flashy work,jumped inside with his hands just a blur as they sought out Mikes head and face. And the cagey veteran wasn't in awe at all. This was his territroy, his type of fight. He took the battering from the Kid, weaved a couple of times at short range,slanted inside and just exploded an uppercut to the Kid's belly and a left hook to his head. Even though the kid blocked the hook, it was steaming and still hurt. And just as suddenly as it all began, it stopped. The Kid ran backwards, fell on one knee and rubbed his hand against his right eye. The ref sent Mike to a neutral corner and when he went to the Kid, the kid spit out his moutpiece and yelled out for all to hear, "He stuck something in my eye, it is blinding me." The ref carefully looked in the Kid's eye and not able to locate a problem, called the attending physician onto the ring. The physicain put his light in the eye and checked it real well. At that time, Chito approached and asked the doctor ,"What did you find?" The doctor said, "I don't see anything yet." Chito asked, "Can I Look?" "Why I guess that would be okay." said the doctor. So, Chito, with the doctor's pen-light, took the middle finger of his right hand to push the eyelid up and the thumb of his right hand to push the lower eyelid down and used his left hand to guide the little beam from the pen-light. Suddenly, he exclaimed,"I see it, I see it." To which the amazed and startled kid said," You do? What is it?" Chito continued to look in the kids eyes as even the doctor and refereee suddenly closed in for a closer look. While everyone was straining to see what Chito saw, the old master took his hands away from the Kids eye, put them under his cheek and looking straightforward said,"It's spelled 'F-E-A-R.' Have a Happy

Sun 04 Jun 2006 04:45:57

Name :	Tom
Email :	Set the Table Please
Message	It was back in 1966 when I was an officer of the Golden Gloves and assistant coach under the renowned El Paso boxing coach, Chito Barragan, that a very funny incident occurred during a 'Boxing Smoker' at the El Paso Coliseum Judging arena. One of our fighter's, Reyes Mata, a very hard-punching lightweight, was going up against a flashy, undefeated New Yorker, who had recently moved to the area. At the weigh-in's, the Big Apple youngster passed by Mata as he was resting on a table with a towel over his chest. He stopped, went into a boxing shuffle and pointed at Mata as if he was Muhammed Ali, and said something like, "Boy, I got the clout and I'm gonna knock you out." Mata raised his head a little and just grinned at him and then laid back down. During the first round of their fight, the 'Flash' was raining combinations on Mata. Not many punches were landing though as the left-handed Mata was a defensive expert. But Mata only pushed out a jab or two and never really landed any punches of his own during the round. It was easily a 10-9 round for the transplanted easterner and he he was full of conficence as he sprightly went to his corner at the bell. Between rounds, Mata told Chito that the kid was fast but that he felt he could surge through him in the coming round and get his vaunted body attack underway. Chito simply told him to either pick off the jab or slip it when he felt the right range and jump inside and let his hands go. Round two began just as round one. The New Yorker was even faster in the second round than he was in the first. He was also penetrating Mata's defense and scoring to the head and cheek. I was concerned that the kid's speed and range, plus being some four inches taller, might be an obstacle Mata might not overcome in a three round fight. How wrong I was. After receiving a barrage of punches from his speedy adversary, Mata suddenly slipped under a double jab and crashed home a thundering left uppercut to his opponent's diaphragm. The punch made the New Yorker spit out his mouthpiece and gasp for air. Just as Mata was about to deliver a follow hook, the ref jumped in and stopped the action to retrieve the loose mouthpiece. That is when the highlight of the fight took place: the 'Flash' went into a delirious fit, grabbed his stomach and ran around the ring screaming, "He has scissors in his gloves! He has scissors in his gloves! He has scissors in his gloves!" I was serving as Ring Clerk and the referee, who was trying to return the fighter to his corner and get the mouthpiece washed and replaced, was finally able to corral the young man. He alled me and the attending physician into the ring. The kid was really out of it but demanded to see Mata's gloves. As the physician attended the bewildered fighter, Chito came into the ring, marched Mata over to the ref and took his gloves off. The only thing found there was a hard fist that had penetrated the New yorker's body so hard that he felt that he had been cut. Mata, the winner by TKO.