Rumble along the Passaic leads to rude awakening

Wednesday, June 15
BY STEVE JANOSKI


The air is charged at the packed AmeriHealth Pavilion on fight night, especially among the followers of boxer Vinny O’Brien, the local kid from Morris County who’s seeking his third professional victory in as many bouts.

This show, smaller in nature, isn’t like a title match — if you’re here, you probably know one of the fighters. That alone changes the dynamics of watching the encounter, as your heart somersaults with each punch, and for six or 10 rounds, you feel that you share your fighter’s fate.

When I get there, I find out that O’Brien’s fight, which was supposedly going to be televised nationwide on ESPN, has been made the "swing bout." This, more or less, means that he’ll go on whenever they need him to, which plays hell with both his mind and his adrenal glands.

The night turns out to be a jumbled mess. One fight gets pulled at the last minute, and the arena’s lights fail in the middle of another, a la "Ocean’s Eleven."

The half-hour delay lets an already drunk crowd slip further into inebriation, and the atmosphere grows tense as time ticks by.

The redeeming quality is that Main Events has matched good boxers, and the action is ferocious. Several fights are near upsets, and knockdowns are plentiful.

Unfortunately, O’Brien somehow becomes the last bout of the night, and as the welterweight begins to carve his way toward the ring to a recording of a lion’s roar, the ESPN crews are rolling up the electrical cords and dragging out their camera booms.

O’Brien is adorned in white trunks with a blue and red stripe down the side; his opponent, a Puerto Rican from Philadelphia named Rafael Montalvo, wears trunks decorated with the Puerto Rican flag.

The first round starts slowly as both fighters feel each other out. O’Brien takes some punches; he hasn’t yet learned to slip the jab. Brief, sharp exchanges seem to favor Montalvo, but no one lands anything of consequence.

The intensity rises in the second round. Initially they’re content to box from a distance, but eventually they close on each other, and Montalvo lands a hard left hook and a straight right that wobbles O’Brien.

They separate briefly but engage again, two ships of the line going volley for volley. Montalvo lands another damaging blow but, as he comes in, O’Brien comes back with a magnificent left hook that whips the Puerto Rican’s head around and drops him to the canvas. For a moment I think, "Vin’s done it again."

But Montalvo is different. He rises quickly and is on his toes, dancing, nodding his head to referee Earl Morton as he takes an eight count.

O’Brien thinks there’s blood in the water, and he approaches looking to land the Sunday punch that will send Montalvo across the Delaware in shame.

In his eagerness, though, he leaves himself open, and gets caught with a momentous hook that sends him to the ground, sprawling backward against the ropes.

He rises quickly as well, but he’s got the legs of a newborn calf and can’t seem to gain his balance, and I know right then that the fight could be, maybe should be, called.

Morton lets it continue however, and gives him a standing eight count that finishes out the round. The bell sounds, and O’Brien staggers back to his corner as his cutman flings water onto his face from a sponge and his trainer, Lou Esa, tries to bring him back to the world of the living.



Montalvo begins to take over in the third. He’s landing crisp jabs that swell O’Brien’s face and heavy hooks that begin to rob him of his faculties, but the brawler never takes a backward step — he’s determined to a fault now even though it’s clear that he’s in with a slicker, more experienced fighter.

He spends the end of the third and the start of the fourth round trying to line up a knockout punch that never comes; blood is coursing down his cheeks and his mop of black hair is sweat soaked and wild.

In the final round O’Brien takes a beating that would level most men. He’s still swinging and landing the occasional blow, but Montalvo’s hooks are too devastating, and when one catches him on the temple, he stumbles backward and falls into the ropes.

Before he rises, Morton waves the bout off. O’Brien was right – there will be no decision here tonight… but he is the one who has been knocked out.

E-mail: janoski@northjersey.com

http://www.northjersey.com/sports/123974744_Rumble_along_the_Passaic_leads_to_rude_awakening.html

Rumble along the Passaic leads to rude awakening

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 15, 2011

BY STEVE JANOSKI

The air is charged at the packed AmeriHealth Pavilion on fight night, especially among the followers of boxer Vinny O’Brien, the local kid from Morris County who’s seeking his third professional victory in as many bouts.

This show, smaller in nature, isn’t like a title match — if you’re here, you probably know one of the fighters. That alone changes the dynamics of watching the encounter, as your heart somersaults with each punch, and for six or 10 rounds, you feel that you share your fighter’s fate.When I get there, I find out that O’Brien’s fight, which was supposedly going to be televised nationwide on ESPN, has been made the "swing bout." This, more or less, means that he’ll go on whenever they need him to, which plays hell with both his mind and his adrenal glands.The night turns out to be a jumbled mess. One fight gets pulled at the last minute, and the arena’s lights fail in the middle of another, a la "Ocean’s Eleven."

The half-hour delay lets an already drunk crowd slip further into inebriation, and the atmosphere grows tense as time ticks by.

The redeeming quality is that Main Events has matched good boxers, and the action is ferocious. Several fights are near upsets, and knockdowns are plentiful.

Unfortunately, O’Brien somehow becomes the last bout of the night, and as the welterweight begins to carve his way toward the ring to a recording of a lion’s roar, the ESPN crews are rolling up the electrical cords and dragging out their camera booms.

O’Brien is adorned in white trunks with a blue and red stripe down the side; his opponent, a Puerto Rican from Philadelphia named Rafael Montalvo, wears trunks decorated with the Puerto Rican flag.

The first round starts slowly as both fighters feel each other out. O’Brien takes some punches; he hasn’t yet learned to slip the jab. Brief, sharp exchanges seem to favor Montalvo, but no one lands anything of consequence.

The intensity rises in the second round. Initially they’re content to box from a distance, but eventually they close on each other, and Montalvo lands a hard left hook and a straight right that wobbles O’Brien.

They separate briefly but engage again, two ships of the line going volley for volley. Montalvo lands another damaging blow but, as he comes in, O’Brien comes back with a magnificent left hook that whips the Puerto Rican’s head around and drops him to the canvas. For a moment I think, "Vin’s done it again."

But Montalvo is different. He rises quickly and is on his toes, dancing, nodding his head to referee Earl Morton as he takes an eight count.

O’Brien thinks there’s blood in the water, and he approaches looking to land the Sunday punch that will send Montalvo across the Delaware in shame.

In his eagerness, though, he leaves himself open, and gets caught with a momentous hook that sends him to the ground, sprawling backward against the ropes.

He rises quickly as well, but he’s got the legs of a newborn calf and can’t seem to gain his balance, and I know right then that the fight could be, maybe should be, called.

Morton lets it continue however, and gives him a standing eight count that finishes out the round. The bell sounds, and O’Brien staggers back to his corner as his cutman flings water onto his face from a sponge and his trainer, Lou Esa, tries to bring him back to the world of the living.

Montalvo begins to take over in the third. He’s landing crisp jabs that swell O’Brien’s face and heavy hooks that begin to rob him of his faculties, but the brawler never takes a backward step — he’s determined to a fault now even though it’s clear that he’s in with a slicker, more experienced fighter.


He spends the end of the third and the start of the fourth round trying to line up a knockout punch that never comes; blood is coursing down his cheeks and his mop of black hair is sweat soaked and wild.

In the final round O’Brien takes a beating that would level most men. He’s still swinging and landing the occasional blow, but Montalvo’s hooks are too devastating, and when one catches him on the temple, he stumbles backward and falls into the ropes.

Before he rises, Morton waves the bout off. O’Brien was right – there will be no decision here tonight… but he is the one who has been knocked out.

E-mail: janoski@northjersey.com

http://www.northjersey.com/sports/123974744_Rumble_along_the_Passaic_leads_to_rude_awakening.html

Young fighter's quest for a lasting legacy

By Steve Janoski

In the back of what looks like a typical general fitness gym in Whippany sits an Olympic size boxing ring and a long row of heavy bags that sway and flutter like the ocean breakers over the rippled hardwood floor.


It’s here, among the smell of sweat and old hand wraps, that athletes are put through sweltering torture to the snapping rhythms of punches hitting leather meant to forge them into fighters.

One man here has risen a bit faster than the rest, though, and when Final Round Boxing’s pride and joy gets in the ring and goes to work, the whole gym stops and takes notice.

At 24 years old, he’s a relative newcomer to a sport where most champions train from their first steps, but as soon as he steps through the ring ropes, it becomes undeniable that the kid’s got a natural aptitude for violence; as he shadowboxes, his body hurls around like a gyroscope in a brutal ballet designed to devastate the hardiest of men.

Vinny O’Brien, lean and chiseled with slicked-back black hair, started boxing around three years ago and immediately showed his aptitude in the squared circle: a finalist in the 2008 NJ Golden Gloves tournament, he won the 141 pound title in the same tournament in 2010.

This Friday night, the East Hanover native will return to the Prudential Center in Newark for his third professional fight in the hopes of staying undefeated as he tries to turn a fledgling pro career into something bigger — much bigger.

A bell signals the end of the round, and his trainer, Lou Esa, steps between the ropes himself to work the focus mitts for the young welterweight nicknamed “The Lion.”

In another life, the mammoth 6 foot 6 inch Esa, 59, was a professional heavyweight who fought on Muhammad Ali’s undercards. With blonde hair and a huge smile, he talks with the swaggering confidence of one who’s knocked out 16 men.

He trains O’Brien every day, and calls him a “work in progress” whose maniacal attitude towards training is proving to be his finest asset.

“He’s only had eight amateur fights and two pro fights…but he works every day like it’s his last and I love that about him,” said Esa.

With every session he improves, the trainer says: increased movement, more powerful punches, the development of a left hook that can shake a building.

Pop, pop….pop, pop, bang goes the sweet cadence as combination after combination tear into the pads. Esa shouts encouragement as O’Brien throws a right hand to his chest.

“Yea, you stopped his heart with that one!” he yells.

A step to the side, and another right hand spits out from the furious dynamo, another yell, and I have no envy for his opponent.

“You hit somebody with that and its goodnight Irene!” Esa yells through his goatee.

O’Brien’s style is electrifying— he’s got no problem taking a punch to land one, and when he takes one on the chin, it’s like pulling the cord on a 5 foot 9 inch chainsaw.

He’s also white, which in boxing is nothing but a blessing; if you’re a good fighter, you can be transformed into the next “Great White Hope” overnight. If you happen to be a great fighter, it doesn’t matter what color your skin is— the money is out there.

“You’re in boxing, you could get lucky and make millions…I mean, you could set your kids up for life if you worked hard,” Esa tells me later.

He says that his fighter has a style that will fashion an iron bond between he and his fans reminiscent of the late Arturo Gatti, anotherNew Jerseynative andAtlantic Cityfavorite known for his die-hard following.

Friday’s fight will be broadcast nationally on ESPN’s “Friday Night Fights,” so if there’s any time to create that bond, it’s now.

O’Brien wants it just the same, because if it doesn’t work out in boxing….well, in his words, “It’s gotta work out.”

“There’s no backup plan. This is Plan A, Plan B, Plan C…this is everything,” he says.

It’s not an easy road to choose—littered with empty promises, shattered careers, and the corpses of good men, it’s known as a meat grinder that will use up the weak and lay low the strong.

But Esa knows the siren song of the villainous swine, and says he laid it bare to O’Brien from the first meeting.

“I was there, I been there, I done that,” he says. “I told him, ‘Look, they’re gonna’ offer you the world, and you gotta’ make the decision: it’s either you do it the right way, or we don’t do it,’ and he says, ‘No Lou, I promise I’ll listen.’”

Esa shakes his head as he relates stories about fighters from his generation who are so punch drunk that they can barely talk, or who lost everything on their journey down the rocky road.

“I won’t let that happen to (Vinny),” Esa says, shaking his head.“No matter what.”

E-mail: janoski@northjersey.com

http://www.northjersey.com/sports/122209103_Young_fighter_s_quest_for_a_lasting_legacy.html?c=y&page=1

Pequannock resident preparing to take on Golden Gloves tournament

Sunday, January 16, 2011

BY STEVE JANOSKI

Most early mornings start the same for Mike DeLade Jr. since he began boxing: a 5 a.m. rising followed by a 45-minute run that takes him through the streets of Pequannock before most of the people have stirred from slumber.

The Benjamin Place resident then works during the day doing construction and contracting work before driving down to Whippany's Final Round Boxing gym.



There, DeLade finishes off his day by lacing on the gloves and lighting up the bags in somber preparation for February's NJ Golden Gloves tournament, which has pitted the best amateur fighters against each other every year since 1923.

It's been a long road to the boxing gym for the 23-year-old DeLade, who graduated from Pequannock Township High School in 2005 and has worked a variety of blue-collar jobs since, ranging from air conditioning and heating, to masonry and snow plowing.

The grind of the blue-collar world led to boredom and sometimes trouble for DeLade, who's had a few "scuffles" on a few nights that didn't end early enough.

"I had always wanted to fight, but I always seemed to like fighting in bars more," he said with a laugh.

He began playing flag football to break the monotony, but that wasn't enough, and one sport continued to draw him in: boxing.

"My uncles always liked watching boxing, and after watching the fights, I wanted to learn the art of it," he said, noting that a cousin of his had also been a Golden Gloves fighter.

Although he didn't necessarily receive support from his mother ("She said, 'I don't want your face to get busted up.'") or his friends ("They said, 'People train their whole lives for that tournament.'"), he pushed on and eventually found a home at Final Round Boxing.

"I told them that even if I don't (win), at least I can say that I tried," he said. "And my father is psyched about it too. He thinks I could do good in there."

So, for the past two months, DeLade has been training under the watchful eye of Final Round's boxing coach, former heavyweight fighter Lou Esa of Wayne.

"When I joined, Lou asked if I wanted to fight amateur or not, so we did a couple sessions to see if I was good enough," DeLade said.

After those sessions, Esa agreed to train him for the tournament.

"He said I hit hard and that all the other things will come together," he said.

Esa, 59, is a giant of a man with bear paws for hands who once fought on Muhammad Ali's undercards during his pro career. He's not one to mince words, but said that the kid's getting better, and quickly.

"He's used to street fighting and all, so he's not afraid to get hit, but when I get him sparring more I'll be able to better judge (his ability)," Esa said. "But the way things are going now, I think he'll breeze right through the (Golden) Gloves."

Esa joked that DeLade still has the "white man's disease"— a term he coined for having little rhythm and slow feet (similar to "Rocky").

However, one thing the 6-foot-1, 225-pound DeLade has that makes Esa grin is a big right hand that he thinks could devastate opponents.

"That right hand," Esa said, "is going to put somebody on Queer Street if he hits 'em with it."

On top of his natural power, DeLade has exhibited a ceaseless work ethic that Esa admires.

"He goes right into his workout, he doesn't play, and that impresses the hell out of me," he said. "He wants this so bad."

DeLade said that he can't wait to get in the ring for what would be his first amateur fights when the Golden Gloves tournament starts in the first week of February.

"(Boxing) isn't a team thing. I played football my whole life, but this, the whole weight is on you. It's between you and the other fighter," he said. "It's 'Let's see what you got, let's see how much you want it.'"

Grueling workouts… daily

Those who have boxed might attest to the punishing nature of the sport's training.

An hour's worth of running every morning, and later on, after laboring all day, it's another hour or two of training a variety of skill work, from shadowboxing and jumping rope to speed and heavy bag work, all with one goal: to be able to hurt another man so badly that he can't continue fighting.

At the start, it can be discouraging as fighters engage muscles they've never used before and find out that it's not as easy as it looks.

"It's pretty hard, especially in the beginning," DeLade said. "The first time I hit a speed bag, I thought, 'I'm never gonna be able to get this.'

"It takes a while, and you've got to do little things like shadowbox at home in front of a mirror, and when you're getting tired, you have to go right through it," he said.

The practice, however, is paying off in a big way.

"The other day he hit the bag with a 1-2-1-2," said Esa, "And that thing went flying… The whole gym noticed. I told (DeLade) that that's what I want. He's been doing fantastic."

Coincidentally, working the heavy bag happens to be DeLade's favorite hobby.

"I get some frustration out, and if you do the right combo or hit it right, you can tell right away," he said.

The close relationship between trainer and fighter is already beginning to form even though they haven't been working together long, and DeLade trusts Esa's every word.

"He knows everything about boxing and he tells it how it is. He doesn't sugarcoat things," DeLade said. "Whatever Lou says, I do."

With the tournament looming ever closer, the training becomes more and more crucial for what will be the first test of DeLade's skills in the squared circle.

"I think my chances are really good since I'm training hard, and I'm really serious about it… (Winning) it would probably be the biggest accomplishment of my life," he said. "I've got the conditioning and I've got the confidence. I can't wait."

E-mail: janoski@northjersey.com