Lodo Grdzak's Sportin' Life: (My People Edition)

"When was the last time you were at The Garden?" (Khan--Left./Malignaggi--right.):




The demise of my epic, 10-part series on Detroit was largely the result of a dozen new cases assigned by my boss; coupled with my father’s recent visit to New York.

My dad was only here for a few days, but we did a lot of things. He bought a bunch of expensive meals; took me fishing on a party boat. Hell, we even went to the fights.

“When was the last time you were at Madison Square Garden?” I asked him that afternoon at lunch. He had to think about it.

“Gosh, it must have been over 40 years ago--before it moved,” he finally answered. “Why?”

“’Cause we should go there tonight. There’s a fight I want to see--a boxing match. It’s gonna be a local guy from here in Brooklyn.”

“...A boxing match?”

“Yeah,” I answered as I slurped down an oyster.

My dad looked at me with an odd consideration. Put down his lobster claw as he studied my face.

“Boxing?” he asked again with amazement.

“...I’ll buy,” I told him as I grabbed the lobster claw off his plate and motioned for our waiter to bring another round of drinks.

That night I took my dad to see Amir Khan vs. Paul Malignaggi at The Garden. Boy was he excited about that.

I should probably mention that my dad’s a very intellectual guy. He’s earned a doctorate degree from a prestigious university and had dual majors as an undergrad. He even considered being a rabbi as a youngster, which says a ton right there about his cerebral nature and temperament.

So with that in mind, imagine my 70 year old, professorial dad at The Garden immersed in a crowd of buckwild Italians from Brooklyn and an army of Amir Khan fans who traveled all the way from London.

The Brits were really rabid, aggressive fans; but Malignaggi was our hometown guy. He had his own emotional contingent (that included myself); but as the fight became lopsided Malignaggi's fans got restless.

Everytime Khan scored a punch, his base would frantically wave their Pakistani flags, which only seemed to add to the Malignaggi-crowd's tension. Several fights eventually broke-out in the stands which caused security to intervene. It was mostly drunken Brits being escorted out; hands restrained behind their back as they were pushed thru the exits. Some laughed. Some fought back, only to be restrained by three or four huge bouncers with the little secret service ear plug in their ears.

“Wow!” my dad said with sober astonishment as we walked to the train after the fight had been stopped. “That was...really something.”

My dad and I don’t always get along, but we share the bond of common blood and experience. He’s my people as they say, and I don’t have many. In fact, just exactly who my people are is an open question, the answer to which seems to be in constant flux.

Its certainly a question that’s been on my mind as the Miguel Cotto/Yuri Foreman fight approaches. The Slugfest at Yankee Stadium as its being billed for the Super Welterweight Championship of the world.

Foreman’s gotta be the first Jewish champion in at least the last 30 years--and he’s of Russian descent (also like me); so I’m a little surprised I’m not more excited about him.

But Foreman's a rabbinical student, and I’ve never had any emotional connection to Judaism. In fact, my work here in NY forces me to deal with a lot of Orthodox Jews, and I can't stand most of 'em. Perhaps I judge them more harshly since I expect the most from my own kind; but the coarseness of their Hebrew; their outright condescension towards outsiders; the untamed beards and heavy clothes. That’s what bothers me the most--those heavy black clothes and skullcaps in summer.

I genuinely can’t deal with hot weather. The heat nearly drives me to madness when I’m stuck on a subway platform drenched in sweat. Yet everywhere in Brooklyn I see the Hasidim on the platforms dressed in black overcoats and felt-brimmed hats atop their yarmulkes. Literally a hundred degrees; but they’ve got two hats on their head. Standing in one spot; lost in contemplation as they twirl their long side braids that drip with perspiration. I swear I want smack ‘em and say “C’mon, man. Demonstrate some human intelligence and take that hat off!"

Which is why I have no natural affinity for Foreman.

And I’m not just gonna turn on Miguel Cotto. He’s been one of my favorite boxers since he always has a fight at The Garden this time of year. He’s been my hometown guy and always shows great heart. He's rugged, genuinely tough; and leaves everything in the ring. So I’m not gonna drop Cotto for a total unknown just ‘cause he’s Jewish.

Yet just yesterday, as I posted a bunch of pictures of myself on Facebook, I found myself wondering:

Why have I always worn a beard?

’Cause you look like Pee Wee Herman without it.

Right, okay. But why do I seem naturally compelled to wear a hat?

‘Cause you’re bald Lodo.”

Makes sense. ..And why’d I stop eating pork?”

‘Cause Babe was such a great talking-animal movie.

Oh yeah, now I remember.

I’ll tell you reader, this fight tonight at The Stadium has dredged-up some real life questions.

Course the biggest question is whether I’m actually gonna go or not. I haven’t yet been to the new Yankee Stadium and I’d love to see the parade of dark-skinned Puerto Rican gals.

Plus these are my people, right? The Russian Jew--Yuri Foreman. My traditional favorite Miguel Cotto. And of course all my fellow New Yorkers broadcast ‘round the world on HBO. It should be a no brainer.

Yet this morning, when I went outside to get my coffee, I was immediately hit with the hottest, most stagnant air, the likes of which is unique to New York. It was still early, yet the foul heat had already begun to rise from the pavement; and the humidity had my T-shirt drenched in sweat within seconds out the door. I can only imagine what it’ll be like tonight in the Bronx with 30,000 people.

“Lodo,” the cashier said to me as he rang up my coffee, “you going to the stadium tonight?”

“I’m not sure Andy--I’m still on the fence.”

“Really?” he answered with surprise since he knows I usually go to the fights. “I figured you’d have been one of the first with a ticket. You of all people.”

“..Well Andy,” I answered as I used the back of my forearm to wipe the sweat off my brow, “I think my people are the ones who like air-conditioning.”



Miguel Cotto's greatest victory was over Sugar Shane Mosley at Madison Square Garden: (Cotto--right/Mosely--left):
Super Middleweight Champion Yuri Foreman: (28 wins; 0 losses; 8 Ko's): Good luck, man!