I've only been a cornerman 4 times, but that matches my experience.
When you’re fighting, you’re glad to sit down for a minute and have a little water. Sometimes, if there’s a couple of cornermen and it’s a hot arena, you kinda feel like they’re sucking up your oxygen.
My best friend since we were thirteen, who was also my first black belt and first cornerman, was the best. He’d take out my mouthpiece, give a little water, cool me with an iced cloth and ask me, “where are we going afterwards, Friar Tucks or Joe Doherty’s place?”
I’d say “Friar Tucks.”
He’d say, “Okay, sounds good. This guy is telegraphing his right hand. Hook him over the top, then slide left and roundhouse him.”
He’d ask about where we were going so I’d actually be listening to him.
I did the same thing when I was cornering. Did it about a dozen times, both in kickboxing and in the Golden Gloves. In the gloves, I was cornering with my boxing coach, who first taught me how to box.
Also cornered a PKA fight with him. It was when Bill Wallace retired, undefeated. This was the quarter finals to crown a new champion.
Unfortunately, our student was fighting Jean Yves Theriault, The Iceman, who was WAY better and one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen. Super nice guy, too.
We took him and his trainers out to dinner the next day. The promoter tried to screw us and not live up to the contract, of “all meals free” for our crew.
The fight was in Detroit. We stayed at the Ponchartrain Hotel. High class place. When we checked in, I asked the hotel manager if our meals were being comped. He looked it up and said they were not. I said, “okay, call us two cabs, we’re leaving. Tell so and so to find a new Main Event.” He quickly got the promoter on the phone and we got what we were promised.
It was me, my trainer, our fighter, and our promoter and his wife. We had three rooms. They stuck Jean Yves and his whole crew in one room. I’d mention the guy who put on the show if I was sure he was still alive. (But I’m not and will not speak ill of the dead.)
The reason the manager listened to me because I was wearing a three piece suit I had bought for the occasion, with a matching cashmere overcoat that I had borrowed from a friend. If I dressed as I normally did, they probably would have made us use the service entrance.
The night before the fight I was eating dinner in the hotel. I was leaving and saw Tommy Hearns at a table. I walked by and said, “Mister Hearns, I don’t mean to be a bother, just wanted to say, I love to watch you work.”
He asked me to join him. What was I going to say, no? Not a chance.
So I ate a second dinner with Tommy Hearns. We talked boxing for two and a half hours. I thought I died and was in heaven.
If our boy had won, it would have been the greatest Martial weekend I ever had.
He didn’t, he got his **** kicked. But it was still a pretty damn good weekend.