A Boxing Memory: Emile Griffith

A Boxing Memory: Emile Griffith

“I kill a man, and most forgive me… I love a man, and many say this makes me an evil person.”

Emile Griffith lived a double life. A secret life, or more accurately, a not-so-secret life. Griffith was gay in a time and in a country where, with the exception of one solitary state, it was illegal to be so. Viewed as a crime, a sin, a disease, or a mental illness, experts of the day said homosexuality could be prevented and cured. In the early part of his career, Griffith had a girlfriend of convenience and in the latter part a short-lived marriage. But the rumours surrounding his sexuality never went away. Griffith had to hide in plain sight.

Journalists of the day wouldn’t dare breech the subject of his homosexuality. A forbidden word that couldn’t make its way into the final written copy. Everyone knew, but Griffith still felt he had to deny that he was gay. In many ways, Griffith couldn’t be himself. A world champion five times over, Griffith had to fight many things in his life. Ignorance and prejudice amongst them.

One man did breach the subject in the public domain. The Cuban boxer Benny ‘The Kid’ Paret had shared two fights with Griffith for the welterweight championship of the world. At the weigh-in for their third and deciding fight, Paret called Griffith a ‘Marcion’ a derogatory Spanish reference with ‘faggot’ at the heart of its meaning.

“Hey maricón. I’m gonna get you and your husband.” The words that changed plenty. And ended far more.

For one of the rare times in his fighting life, Griffith incensed by the comments of his opponent fought with real anger, but with no intent for anything more. After 12 hard unrelenting rounds, Griffith had reclaimed his world title but lost far more. Paret never fought again. His career and indeed his life were over. Paret died ten days after the fight as a result of the injuries he sustained in that brutal savage fight in 1962 that was screened live on American TV. Griffith, who showed deep remorse for that night in New York, carried the guilt around for the rest of his life. Only late in life when he was battling dementia, did he find some semblance of peace when he shared an emotional moment with Benny Paret Jr. Make no mistake, both needed that time together.

Griffith, forever haunted by what his fists did to Paret, was never ever the same fighter after what happened in Madison Square Garden. Griffith won more world titles, including the world middleweight title, but something was missing. Always somewhat of a reluctant fighter, even more so after the Paret tragedy. A year after that fatal fight with Paret, Griffith shared a dressing room with Davey Moore, the night Moore lost his life at the hands of the Cuban fighter Sugar Ramos. There was seemingly no escape from his mental torture. It wouldn’t end there. Even in retirement, the painful reminders kept coming.

Like many, Griffith spent lavishly and had to keep fighting long past the point of no return. There were good nights but too many bad ones that undoubtedly affected the quality of his later life. Even in those twilight years, Griffith produced three classic fights with Italy’s Nino Benvenuti. A defeat to the world middleweight champion Carlos Monzon was clouded in deep suspicion. More than arguably, Griffith should have had his hand raised. But there were sad nights and far too many of them against opponents who wouldn’t have touched Griffith in his prime.

In 1977, Griffith nearing 40 was still fighting but ended his career with three straight defeats. A points defeat to Alan Minter finally prompted Griffith to call time. Gil Clancy the man at the helm for the entirety of his career told Griffith it was over. The fighter pleaded and asked for one more fight. In truth, Griffith had been at the one more fight stage for far too long already. There were tears from Clancy and finally acceptance from Griffith.

A near 20-year career had finally reached its belated conclusion after over a hundred fights. Minter called it an education, but lessons from the past should have told us we didn’t need to see it. The twenty-four defeats on the record of Emile Griffith do not tell the true story. A good portion of those defeats came when the prime was long gone. One of the greatest fighters in boxing history deserved a better ending. Don’t they all. Boxing rarely does sentiment.

With the money long gone Griffith needed to work and eventually found solace as a trainer. But Griffith still haunted by the horrors of his third fight with Paret couldn’t escape the nightmares of that awful night. A painful reminder would soon enter his life. Wilfred Scypion a middleweight contender on the rise faced Willie Classen in 1979. Griffith was in the corner of Scypion, another night in New York that ended in tragedy. Classen died five days after the fight with Scypion. The eerie familiarities of that night in 1962, lost on nobody. The past seemingly couldn’t be left behind. Another fighter Griffith had worked with Juan Ramon Cruz had also gone through what Griffith and Scypion had. Murphy Griffith, Emile’s uncle worked the corner the night Ray Mancini stopped Duk-Koo Kim, which resulted in sadly Kim losing his life.

On a happier note, Griffith was in the corner when his fighter James ‘Bonecrusher’ Smith knocked out Frank Bruno in London in the 10th and final round. Smith a mile behind on points handed Bruno his first defeat as a professional and would go on to win a portion of the heavyweight championship of the world by knocking out Tim Witherspoon inside a round in 1986. A rare light for someone who had struggled with many demons since that infamous night in 1962.

Like many Griffith largely struggled in retirement. In many ways, a tortured soul who couldn’t escape from the shadows of his past. In 1992, outside a New York gay bar, when he was 54, he was attacked by five thugs in New York and left for dead. Griffith survived. But never fully recovered. The final few years of his life were beyond sad. Bedridden, a ghost of his former self.

Emile Griffith died in 2013. He was 75.