by Phil Rice – During the 1980s I kept a close watch on the world of professional boxing. I still glance over at the contemporary scene from time-to-time, but during the 80s I was totally plugged into the television coverage and all the magazines. I even managed to attend a couple of live cards in my hometown of Nashville. There was little else about my lifestyle to suggest this passion, and I usually indulged in the pursuit by myself since virtually none of my friends or colleagues had any interest, and in fact many flat-out detested the sport. But I never apologized for my interest in the “sweet science,” though I gave up trying to explain it years ago.
A website recently caught my eye that took me back to those days: The Greg Haugen Foundation. As I suspected must be the case, the foundation was named for a prizefighter I had followed closely in my personal heyday of pugilistic fandom..
Approaching fifty and long-retired from the prize ring, he is now involved in a charity organization designed to fight autism.
Haugen first caught my attention in televised bouts against Jeff Bumpus and Freddie Roach. Bumpus was a tough, crowd-pleasing scrapper on his way up and was probably the favored fighter in their match, but Haugen managed to win a hard-fought decision. Roach, now a famed trainer of champions, was a solid fighter in his own day, but Haugen scored a stoppage victory in the 7th round. These bouts brought the lightweight from Auburn, Washington to the attention of boxing fans.
Chris Calvin, Haugen’s next name opponent, was from Nashville and billed himself as “The Southern Rebel,” a moniker that always rankled my own Southern tastes. Still, he was a local boxer and I was enjoying watching his climb in the rankings. He had earned contender status by bouncing the otherwise vastly more talented Brett Summers on the canvas several times on the way to a tenth-round TKO. In boxing, superior talent alone is never a guarantee of victory. Calvin was probably expected to defeat Haugen, too, but Haugen was undeterred by Calvin’s vaunted power. The Southern Rebel fell by TKO.
Haugen continued to win until he took the IBF title from Jimmy Paul. Early in his career Haugen had brilliantly played up his image as a former “Tough Man” contestant while neglecting to mention some 350 amateur boxing matches. Against Paul and his famed trainer Emmanual Steward, the ruse worked one more time and Haugen was the champion before they fully realized the extent of his talent. Psychology in action.
By the time he fought Vinnie Pazienza, I was a Haugen fan all the way. They would fight three-times, the first two bouts being among the most entertaining fights of that decade. Before he would hang up his gloves in 1999, he would add victories over Ray Mancini, Hector Camacho, Gert Bo Jacobsen, and others to his ledger, as well as highly-publicized losses to Camacho, Pernell Whitaker, and Julio Cesar Chavez. Only the Chavez loss was a drubbing. As all of his opponents will attest, Haugen was a top-flight pugilist and an excellent champion by any standards.
But then what?
A recent interview of Haugen shows that he is still the raw goods. He isn’t trying to hang on to celebrity, yet he’s clearly in touch with his identity as a former boxing champion. He exhibits an awareness of himself that is humble and accurate. And what’s a modest reputation worth? For Greg Haugen it just might be worth using in service to his fellows. When his grandson was diagnosed with Autism in 2007, the focus of that service became clear. And that’s the point of the Greg Haugen Foundation.
The Fox Sports interviewer didn’t seem to have much direct knowledge of his subject, a point made clear when he introduced Haugen as a former “light heavyweight” champion. Haugen himself maintained the same demeanor he showed as champion. Calm and cautious, a little camera shy, his eyes darting around the room but always with the interviewer in sight, ever vigilant for the possible sucker punch. Toward the end of the interview the host tried to get a laugh by pointing out that he was making sure to stay at a distance from the boxer. Haugen’s face lit up slightly as he replied that “it only takes one step” to change that assessment. The host replied that he could scoot away, but he missed the point. Haugen was letting the host know that whether he was in punching range or not was entirely up to Haugen.
Watching former sports heroes discuss their careers can sometimes venture into the sad or pathetic, but Haugen demonstrated that while he remembered the past he was living squarely in the present. His only regret from his boxing days? His fight with Julio Cesar Chavez—not because he was thoroughly beaten, but because he knew he didn’t give it his best shot. He can ultimately accept losing to an opponent, but he can’t accept losing from within. But even that lament is a message to be shared with his fellows, not a pattern to be repeated over and over again. He’s still learning, and he’s willing to share the learning.
Getting older is only a point of sorrow if we fail to grow along the way, and the growth that comes from aging cannot be fabricated. It will show itself. Greg Haugen was, and remains, the antithesis of a poser. He’s not worried about convincing anybody of anything. He isn’t concerned whether he is a celebrity or a television star, doesn’t try to project himself as a high intellect or a sophisticated socialite, doesn’t spend his life wedged in his glorious nor his inglorious past. He is simply a wiser man today than yesterday, and that is cause for sincere admiration. I’m glad I paid attention.