The Life and Times Of Big Ell

I watched the Tyson-McBride fight a few months back and became quickly depressed. It wasn’t depressing seeing the former champ get whooped by a journeyman, Danny Williams did the same to the former champ. I wasn’t feeling down because he is bankrupt, letting Don King manage your affairs pretty much guarantees an empty piggy bank and chapter 8 protection. I became depressed because it wasn’t so long ago that Big Ell was being touted as the next big thing, the Great White Hope. In other words I could’ve been a contender, the cracker Mike Tyson.

I remember back to that fateful year 1988. It was October and I was in New York checking out the Broadway musical, Chess. I just couldn’t get enough of Murray Head’s, “One Night in Bangkok.” I was taking a cab back to my motel when my cabbie Hassan got lost and we ended up in New Jersey, Bernardsville, N.J. to be exact. Hassan stopped to ask two women how to get back onto the freeway, but instead of giving directions they jumped into the cab. They were both hysterical and I tried to calm them down when a dining room table smashed the rear view window. I looked back and could see a figure that looked like Mike Tyson running at the cab carrying a bassinette over his head. The bassinette came flying towards us but Hassan, sensing the incoming danger had hit the gas. We made it to the freeway when I realized that the two women were Robin Givens and her mother.

Hassan dropped Robin and I off at my motel and took her mother back to his place. Hassan was suave in a Omar Shariff kind of way. Robin was feeling vulnerable at the time so I did what any guy would do and took her up to my room. Well one thing led to another and I made her my woman. It took only a few minutes and she was mine. Needless to say Mike Tyson wasn’t too happy when he found out that his wife was shacked up with some Canadian peckerwood. He found us the next day and said

"You're sweet. I'm going to make sure you kiss me good with those big lips. I'm gonna make you my girlfriend and you’ll be screaming like my wife." Followed by "I’m on the Zoloft or I’d kill y’all now."

Then he challenged me to a fight, anytime, anywhere. To be honest, I was scared. Here was the heavyweight champion of the world challenging me to a fight. But I knew that I needed to protect the honor of my woman and quickly suggested holding the match in Vauxhall, Alberta. Vauxhall had been the site of many of my grandfather’s top bar-room brawls. I think he bit of the Mayor's nose during one altercation. We set the date for the end of November. Don King quickly coined it the ‘The Brawl in Vauxhall. In the ensuing excitement I signed a lifetime services contract with Don King Entertainment. Don King’s marketing savvy came to the forefront when he planned the fight for early November to coincide with the annual Lobsterfest, thus guaranteeing a much larger gate.

After Tyson accepted the challenge I headed to the potato capital of the west for training. I was an underdog and knew, from watching the Rocky movies, that I needed to work out. I hadn’t boxed much since grade 7 but was ready to defend my woman’s honor. I thought it best to get my body accustomed to the physiological challenges that come with fighting on the cold prairies. I set up shop in the basement of the curling rink and began training. I spent my days bailing hay, shoveling shit and doing pushups on the cold ice of the curling rink. I shadowed boxed with Samantha and Sammy and ran the many miles between the Lions Park and Campground. This sleepy southern Alberta hamlet soon adopted me as one of their own. I knew that the crowd in the Community Center would be largely pro Big Ell.

Most Calgarians remember 1988 as the year the Winter Olympics came to town. Most forget about when Iron Mike came to town for Tyson-Big Ell I. People have tried to forget the scene at the airport where Tyson urinated on the white Stetson hat presented by Mayor Ralph Klein. People have long forgotten Tyson thrashing Mayor Klein’s head off the urinal at the Saint Louis Hotel. They forget that he ripped the heads off both Hidy and Howdy, our Olympic mascots. Citizens have mentally blocked out his comparison of Bow River trout with his soon to be ex-wife’s vagina. After this slight, I knew I was not only fighting for the honor of my woman but for all Albertans.

An overfilled Community Center was rocking the night of the fight. Scalpers were selling tickets for close to ten bucks. The bookmakers had me a 5000-1 underdog but I remained confident. Being the underdog I was the first to enter the ring to the strains of Accept’s chart topper “Balls to the Wall.” Iron Mike entered the ring and Michael Buffer exclaimed “Let’s Get Ready to Rumble!!!”

• Round 1 was a blur as Tyson couldn’t hit me because of my lightning fast footwork. I managed to land a few jabs but was unable to connect with my vaunted right hook. Judges scored the round 10-9 Iron Mike.
• Round 2 didn’t start off very well. Iron Mike started working the body and soon had me in the corner. I tried to rope to dope like Ali in the Rumble in the Jungle but I ain't no Muhammed fuckin Ali. I was a 17 year old from Calgary. I ended up taking about 23 crushing over hand rights from the champ but I didn’t go down. Judges score 10-7 Iron Mike.
• Round 3 started out better. I managed to avoid any contact for about 90 seconds. Some ‘commentators,’ said I was running like a girl, but I was using the age old tactic of the duck and run. Then my sweetie Robin jumped onto the ring apron, I was quickly distracted by her feminine whiles. Before I knew it my teeth were on the ground and my blood splattered across the ring. I looked up and referee Mills Lane was raising Iron Mike’s glove. I knew this was my one and only chance to be the champ and I had failed.

The crowd turned on me quickly as Vauxhall crowds are wont to do. I was pelted with lobsters and cans of Pilsner as I left the ring. After a vist from my Dentist Mr. Goldstein I headed out to the parking lot. My father was waiting there just like when I suffered so many other sporting losses. It wasn't much different from when I got a game misconduct in Strathmore or when I ran the goalie during a soccer tourney in Great Falls. My father drove me back to Calgary, in his slick brown 1980 El Camino, and whispered words of encouragment. "You should have trained harder!" "How could you let that biatch distract you?" Just as we were hitting Aldersyde my father said "You know, your Grandpa would have low blowed him and then bit of his nipple and walked away with the title." I said "I know, I know, pass me that reefer my head still hurts."