Saturday Night Boxing
recently spoke with Dr. Scott Weiss, the co-author of the book ”Confusing
the Enemy: The Cus D'Amato Story" (Acanthus Publishing, 2013). Weiss, a
physical therapist and athletic trainer for the United States Olympic Team, has
written (along with Paige Stover) the most comprehensive volume to date on one
of boxing's most fascinating and enigmatic trainers. Using his experience
as a martial artist and former amateur boxer, Weiss delves into the
technical, psychological and personal characteristics that helped D'Amato, with his peek-a-boo ring style, shape
champions such as Mike Tyson, Floyd Patterson and Jose Torres.
With an extensive
background as a researcher and an intense passion for his subject, Weiss successfully
pieces together a robust understanding of an often intentionally
oblique man. Leafing through archives and conducting scores of fresh interviews
with those in the New York boxing scene and friends and family of D'Amato (who
died in 1985), Weiss presents a florid picture of post-war New York City
boxing, the men who controlled it and how one outcast figure found his own
way to the top, often by controversial methods.
Part I of the Q&A
covers similarities between D'Amato and Bruce Lee, the mob's involvement
with boxing in New York City, Floyd Patterson, the technical and
psychological components of the peek-a-boo style and why D'Amato was
scared of George Foreman.
Interview by Adam Abramowitz:
(This interview has
been condensed.)
One of the things that I learned from your introduction was how
Cus D’Amato was a seminal influence on your own martial arts training. Can you
talk about his initial influence on you?
My first connection
was when I heard about the young Mike Tyson coming up in the ranks. Being a
boxer and a martial artist, almost going to the Olympics myself in 1988 [for tae kwon do], I knew
about Mike Tyson from my training. And being a martial artist, I said to myself, who’s this guy? Who’s his master? So I would say in the early 80s, it
was really Mike’s influence that made me track down Cus and find out who Cus
was. That was the initiation.
The other influence you talked about was Bruce Lee. As you
initially learned more about Mike Tyson and Cus D’Amato, what drew you to his
style?
Similar to Bruce, it’s a
lifestyle. It’s not just something you do on the side. I lived my life thinking
all of those thoughts. I realized that Bruce and Cus did it as a lifestyle, not
just as a vocation. That was the first thing that I realized about them that
was similar to me.
From there, I realized that
Cus and Bruce had a similar idea about how to totally be able to express
yourself. For instance, when a fighter really gets hurt, the other boxer would
square off on the fighter and start throwing bombs left and right. Cus said
let’s try to get into the stance immediately, which is similar to a horse
stance, so you can get the same power left and right if you know how to shift
your weight correctly.
So it was like putting
together the East and the West, and Cus didn’t even know that he was doing it.
Bruce epitomized it and Cus was kind of dabbling with it in the West.
Once you moved away from actively competing in martial arts, what
stuck with you about Cus? What were some of the facets about Cus’ teachings
that drew you to pursue a more exploratory role about his life?
Cus’ style
transcended boxing. His whole approach was adopting a lifestyle as I was
alluding to before – that idea of adapting a lifestyle of nutrition, training,
psychology, the right sleep. Everything that he was saying was so analogous to
what I’m doing with the Olympians that I work with right now as a physical
therapist. I’ll be at the training center in Colorado Springs while our
athletes are at the Winter Olympics in Sochi, Russia.
To be able to see how the
best athletes train was really a goal of mine. Seeing how Cus trained and
how the Olympians trained, there was such a crossover. But Cus was
way before his time.
Some of the specifics [of
the crossover] were: when you screw up and when you fail at what you are trying
to do, getting back into your rhythm is the hardest thing in life. The girl
falls off the balance beam and how do you get back up and say, “Holy shit, I
just did that. It’s the Olympics. How do I keep going?” Cus developed the confidence in you. He knew
hypnosis. He knew the right training, the right words to say.
What made your pursue Cus in particular as the subject of your
first book?
Being a smaller fighter, I
liked the style of the peek-a-boo. The rhythm and timing was more offbeat. It
was what I did naturally – so those are kind of the stylistic qualities. Also,
realizing that what you are doing is more than just fighting, it was expanding
on that. I realized that Cus did that naturally, with his fighters always
giving everything they can, and taught them to be a complete person first, and
a great athlete – that was very important – not just a great boxer. That’s what
I liked about Cus.
How did you hook up with your co-author, Paige Stover, for this
project?
After being at the Olympics
my second time, in Beijing, I talked to Michael Phelps. I talked to Tim
Morehouse, a couple of people who wrote their books. After speaking to both of
them, I went with who they directed me towards. Paige had done a few things in
the boxing world and was really burgeoning at that time. I needed help in
editing, expressing and directing the things that I was saying and that I knew
so well from the interviews that I did. Paige was a vital part of that.
One theme in your book that you talked about was how difficult it
was to track down good information about Cus D’Amato. And how, in your words,
that was almost by design. With that said, how did the construct of the fictional
narrator come out in your work? What advantages and disadvantages did you see
in having this fictional narrator take us through the events of Cus’ life?
Cus lived the life of
the immaculate puzzle, and he wanted it that way. I can’t express that enough.
That’s what he wanted. Be that as it may, it made it very difficult because
when you speak to the people that were around, they knew a little bit of Cus…certain things, even his family members.
It became frustrating at
one point. But then I began to
understand what was going on in his life. I started to understand the big
picture. You know, it was tough to decipher just what Cus was doing. I’m a
researcher. In the medical field, you have to have three to four references no
matter what statement you say. And I couldn’t do that with Cus. So to write a
straight biography to me would have been a falsehood or a fallacy. I would
never be able to do a direct, straight biography.
So that’s why after
interviewing so many of his family members and the people around him – 80-something interviews – that’s when I realized I started to see through his
kaleidoscope and was able to almost think like him. That’s when I started to be able to put
together the truth of the story. Instead of staying, “Cus woke up at this time.
He did that.” I decided to put it into a story.
Cus opened his gym in New York in 1933 – the Empire Sporting Club.
How did he make his bones or penetrate professional boxing? Could you walk us
through Cus’ early years as a trainer?
It was his brother. His
brother became a boxer and worked with a manager. His brother worked with
[boxer] Yama Bahama. I think his manager was Bob Melnick at the time. After Cus
really saw the inner workings of boxing from the side, from really watching it
at the Bronx, up at Sunnyside Boulevard, at some of the churches where his
brother would box, that was his main injection into boxing.
I think I alluded to this
in the book that the first essence of boxing in Cus’ life was through an uncle.
His uncle was also a wrestler and gave all the boys boxing gloves and punching
bags for Christmas once. That was the genesis of boxing in Cus’ mind. But he
realized the inner workings of boxing with what he went through watching his
brother in the pros.
How was Cus able to first able to achieve success as a trainer?
Probably in the army. Cus
had a way of being so charismatic and he always commanded such a personality
that they would say, “wow, this guy knows what he’s talking about,” and they
listened. When he was an MP in the army and he started taking his brother’s
knowledge and evolving it, he realized that people started to listen to him.
People wanted to know how to fight and defend themselves. And Cus knew that his
whole life. I think the army was an integral place for Cus to know who he was
as a person.
One thing that I learned from your book was Cus’ early involvement
with Rocky Graziano [Graziano would later become middleweight champion in
1947]. That’s not a fighter who is closely associated with him these days. Can
you shed some light on that relationship?
He was a Lower East Side
boy and Cus ran the Lower East Side. And that’s what it came down to. When
Graziano came about, they needed a substitute for a fight, and Graziano worked
at the Empire Sporting Club – he was fighting for Cus’ Empire Sporting
Club. It was almost like a boxing
organization that you had to be a part of just to be able to get good fights.
Graziano was just a young kid from the Lower East Side – just a good looking
kid that everybody knew would knock people out. It was really because he was a Lower East Side boy and he filled in for
someone.
Another interesting aspect of the book is your painting the
picture of the mob’s involvement with boxing at that time. You talk about how
challenging that environment was for someone who wasn’t that well
connected. Could you talk about the
specific challenges that Cus faced as he started to get more involved in
big-time New York City boxing?
Just look how hard it is
these days. To really break through, there are only so many avenues, so many
paths. Back then, there weren’t even that many. There were only one or two
paths to get to the top of the mountain and if you were road blocked, you had a
rough day.
Cus had to let his own
fighters fight each other in the stable he had. Or let the fighters in his
stable fight the guys who left and were at Gleason’s or other
gyms. Go to Europe. Start fighting there. And that’s what Cus needed to do.
When there’s not a path, you have to find your own path. That was one of his
main pillars in the genesis of who he was. It was find another path. When
you’re blocked, you’re blocked. But Cus had a little bit more of a harder time and
had to climb a higher mountain, and sidestep some landmines.
Can you shed some more light on the mob involvement? I think a lot
of elements of that scene would be very surprising to today's boxing fans.
I’d be in the mob and I
would tell you only negative things about Cus. Everybody spoke against him.
Everybody was negative. If somebody asked about what’s the book on Cus. The guy
would say, “He’s a fag. Don’t talk to him. I don’t want to have anything to do
with him. Don’t go down to his gym."
That time after the
Depression. It was a really rough time. And people wouldn’t let him in. Every
time you poke your head in, and you almost had something, they would push you
right back out. Cus needed to go through the back door instead of the front
door. And that was simply the milieu. That’s what it was. Everybody was in on
it to push you out.
It would be like you trying
to get an interview with Manny Pacquiao after the fight. Everybody else who
would be part of the mob, they would get the first offer to talk to him. After
that, if he wanted to hang around, maybe you will get it. If not, you’re done.
You don’t get anything. You might just get a little piece of something that he
said to another reporter. It became very tough.
Let’s talk about Floyd Patterson, Cus’ first big champion. Tell us
about the relationship between the two of them. How did it progress through the
years and how was Cus was able to guide him to the top?
Cus prided himself on not
getting people later in their career after they were champion. He prided
himself on getting them as a boy, creating them as a man and making them a
great fighter. That’s the example of Floyd. Floyd knew nothing when he started
with Cus. He didn’t read or write. He didn’t know how to communicate with
people. He was really a struggling kid. Cus loved the idea of making
sure that this guy became a man in life. That was really his main goal with
Floyd.
Over the years, just to
make it simple, Floyd stuck with him as much as he could but then got taken
advantage of. [Patterson] had a big meeting with Roy Cohn and one of the big priests of
that time, one of the cardinals. They had a big dinner. And long story short,
people started to deceive Floyd to make him think that Cus was doing the wrong
thing for him.
The guy who helped pull
Floyd over the hill to their side was Julius November, a lawyer. He
made sure that Floyd had money. He was working for Floyd and Cus and it became
a horrible situation. That’s what happened over time. It just deteriorated.
People started telling Floyd that Cus was not on his side, and Floyd eventually
believed it.
When Floyd was coming up, how was the
peek-a-boo style perceived?
It was a big joke. Adam, it
was one, big joke. [Matchmaker] Teddy Brenner used to say, “What’s this guy
doing, hiding behind his gloves? What is he playing peek-a-boo or paddy cake,
like I do with my kids?”
All the media laughed. All
the mob media were writing in their pads while they were tilting their hats
down, if you know what I mean. It was all a big game in that era. They were
making fun of Cus’ little guy. He’s not even a heavyweight! Look at this kid!
He’s going to get knocked out by anybody! They were laughing at him.
How did Cus deal with Patterson’s loss to Sonny Liston and how did
that affect him as a person?
Right away, Cus wanted him
[Patterson] to start getting hypnotized again. Hypnosis was a big point in Cus’
world. Mike [Tyson] used to get
hypnotized two or three times a day – before
practices, before fights. So hypnosis was huge. Psychology was huge. Cus
called it your own internal dialogue. What you say to yourself the day of your
fight is either going to make you or break you.
So as Floyd advanced, that
became more and more important. When he lost, Cus unfortunately wasn’t that
involved at the time. And he tried to reach out to Floyd but Floyd was on that
mountain where I was alluding to before – almost on the top of that mountain believing
everybody else. He was just gone from Cus. At the time, Cus wanted to speak to
Floyd and Floyd blew him off. They were supposed to meet after a fight at one
of the entrances but he never showed up. Cus was there waiting, and he was
really, really upset.
He never got to share the
feelings and the psychology of coming back and being strong in the second
fight. He never really got to teach him and tell him everything that he wanted
to…to be able to come back from a huge loss. Again, just like Mike, nobody was
there to teach him how to come back from a tough loss. But look at Manny
Pacquiao; he came back from a huge, tremendous loss. That’s developing a
champion. And Cus wanted his fighters to understand that and learn that.
I know you are big into technique and philosophy. Can you give us
a quick tutorial on the peek-a boy style? What does it enable fighters to do
well? What are some potential weaknesses? Why did it work well for Patterson
and Tyson? Why hasn’t that style carried over to other fighters?
I’ll give you a couple of
things on both sides. For the pros, look at the Thai boxers. They are known in
the UFC. They are known for any type of hand striking to be the best. It’s
called the Art of Eight Limbs. Look where they keep their hands – up high. Keeping
your hands up high is one of the biggest things you could do to protect
yourself from getting hit in the head.
Cus also believed in
tucking your chin. If you really saw Mike as a young kid or Floyd as a young
kid, they would be tucking their chin so much into their chest that if you
looked at them from the back, you almost didn’t see their head. It was almost
like a magic trick. Tucking your chin and keeping your hands up high were very
important for any strike to the head.
Another huge positive thing
was movement. Cus always said to make sure your head was not in the same spot,
if you throw a punch or if you move. That was huge. Throwing a punch and
dipping or throwing a punch and slipping to one side, mostly to the left, head
movement was really important.
Also, a final big pro of
that style was the footwork. It wasn’t so orthodox. There were more martial
arts movements, where there was hopping and springing to one side. Switching
feet to get your strong side into the uppercut. Jumping to the other side to
throw a right, what Cus would say a “6” to the liver or the kidney, a really
deep shot. He would constantly move the body.
A negative about the style
was you really had to close the gap properly. A shorter fighter, like a Mike,
fighting a taller guy like a Buster Douglas or a
Lennox [Lewis], the movements going forward are different than the movements in
a vertical plane. Mike worked furiously. Cus called it a “furious
concentration” to move forward and dip and weave and only then would you be
able to get into a spot where you could throw a punch with your bad intentions.
There was a weakness in
closing the gap. There was a weakness to people who could really throw the
uppercut or throw a low body shot. And a further weakness was against somebody
who weighed more than you and could push you on your heels.
Cus’ fight library is legendary. He used to have all-night
screenings and make his boxers watch tons of old fight films. Were there
particular fights or fighters that he kept coming back to as influences?
Oh yeah. Off the top of my
head, Cus loved Robinson. He loved Ray Robinson’s spinal posture and the way he
threw his shoulders into the punch. He loved the technique of Robinson but he
liked the movement of Henry Armstrong. Armstrong was a guy that was always
dodging and weaving and punching as he moved forward. He’s almost like the
Floyd Mayweather of today.
Another guy would be Tony
Canzoneri – another lighter-weight fighter that had the power of a heavyweight
but he moved like a lightweight. Those are the people who Cus loved. He came
back to all of their fights.
But Cus was afraid, and it
is true, he was afraid of George Foreman. If you looked at the way that George
Foreman punched, and if you stand up and pretend that you’re in a boxing
stance, his right hand comes around and underneath. And that unfortunately gets
the peek-a-boo fighter in a bad position because every punch is like a
clockwise motion. They are like wide, rounding uppercuts. Cus would say,
“You’ll never fight George Foreman. Don’t do it.”
Another aspect of Cus’ technique was the array of punches that he
would make his fighters throw. When you think of modern fighters, many of them
are known for two or three punches, whether it’s the jab or the straight right
hand or the left hook. But Cus really worked on seven, eight or nine different
punches. He was a real believer in punch variety and punches from different
angles. Was this more philosophical in nature?
No, this was actual. He
wanted fighters to throw five or six punches in two-fifths of a second. He was
timing it. It was a goal of his. Jose [Torres] was the first person before
Floyd who accomplished it. Jose was actually able to throw six punches in
two-fifths of a second. His point was no matter what fighter you put in front
of my boy, you’re going to stand still for two-fifths of a second and that’s
when my guy can lay six punches. He really talked about the science of it and
the timing of it. Jose was also instrumental in ingraining the peek-a-boo.
What would you say were some of the defensive underpinnings of Cus’ style?
No matter what punch you threw, there was a head movement for it. No matter what punch was thrown at you there was head movement for it. Head movements were so important. Whatever you threw or they threw, there were head movements. Being defensive and not getting hit was more important than truly being offensive and hitting.
If you’ve ever studied Wing Chun, if there’s a block there’s a punch at the same time. That’s what Cus developed. It was always a simultaneous offense and defense. You are blocking and hitting at the same time. That was a very different piece that Cus had to his style
I wanted to talk about Cus’ psychological techniques.
A lot of fighters couldn’t
deal with them.
Yes. But what made him unique in this area? What were some of the
techniques that he used and how was he able to have success in this area and
prop his boxers up to make them the great fighters they would become?
He wanted and needed all of
you, psychologically and physically. If you could give yourself fully to him,
you would be able to use all of those attributes and all of your weight into
doing the task at hand. That’s what Cus’ goal was – really teaching you to be
the best you can and express the best you can with the body you have. And
that’s why I love Bruce as well, because Bruce Lee’s whole goal was fully
expressing yourself with your body. Integrating whatever worked to make it work
for you. And that’s what Cus and Bruce did.
