ONE can only wonder what a Nike, or a Don King or a Las Vegas resort/casino would have made of Rocky Marciano. Or unsuccessfully tried to make him.
Marciano was an inveterate sportsman, an incurable gentleman. As the undefeated and unashamedly modest heavyweight champion of the world, he’d have today been commercially unacceptable. The only compromise he ever agreed to came early in his career, when he allowed his name to be changed from Rocco Marchegiano – just to make it easier on everyone else.
“Rocky Marciano: A Life Story,” is a two-hour documentary that premiers Thursday on SNY at 7 p.m. Narrated by actor Robert Loggia and produced, written and edited by Marino Amoruso, who has given us several solid sports chronicles, this one doesn’t wander even 10 seconds from its title. Nothing glitzy, just a complete and thoroughly interesting bio and appreciation of a 1950s superstar whose greatness seems to have faded for no good reason.
The prevailing historical portrayal of Marciano’s style – the kind I previously relied upon – is that of an admirable and powerful plodder, a forward-wading machine who would take three to land just that one, a smiling brute, more determined than skilled. Sure, he was great, if you like meat and potatoes at every meal.
But in “Life Story’s” footage and testimonies, we see and hear differently. Marciano boxed out of a crouch, but only because he had to; he was a smallish heavyweight, 5-foot-10 and 187. And with a reach of 68 inches (Muhammad Ali’s, by comparison, was 82), the only route to victory often was from the inside, up.
Marciano clearly knew exactly what he was doing and how to do it. He fought smartly calculated fights, almost always while in superior physical condition, both things his slow feet could obscure. He was a relentless “worker,” a strategist who reached opponents’ chins by first pounding the strength from their arms.
That he hung ’em up, for good and forever, with a pro record of 49-0 at the age of 32 – fulfilling a promise to his wife – makes for more evidence of an uncompromising and uncompromised champ in a sport that long ago became conditioned to breed and reward those who would bend at the drop of a wallet. From boxing, Marciano made sure to issue himself an indisputably honorable discharge.
Killed in a 1969 plane crash, Marciano, the undefeated heavyweight who is often excluded from all-time lists, should be reassessed, especially by those who really never knew and those who think they do. “Rocky Marciano: A Life Story,” Thursday on SNY, provides an opportunity.
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In the first half of Gonzaga-Memphis, Saturday on ESPN, Memphis star Joey Dorsey did a risky and foolish thing. All alone on a breakaway, he successfully performed a monster tomahawk slam. That it made no sense, especially in a close game, didn’t prevent ESPN’s studio show from framing it as the highlight from the first half.
Friday, during Golf Channel’s co-production of the Buick Invitational, a shot appeared of a new Buick, leading CBS’s David Feherty to mention that he’s able to fit his bicycle in the back of it. “Why,” asked GC’s Kelly Tilghman, “would you travel with your bicycle?” “It saves me from having to ride it,” he answered.
Dan Brady, a sportscaster who seems too insightful to be appreciated by same-old-stuff program directors, has taken it to the Web. Catch his one-camera, no-scripts “from the basement” show, Mondays at 8 p.m., at newcenturyTV.com/bradysports.
In what seems to be an annual inevitability, ESPN boxing analyst Teddy Atlas has been suspended, this time for a week instead of a month, following an off-air shout-out with an ESPN staffer, this time boxing programmer Doug Loughery.
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Stay Tuned For The Surprise Ending: So it’s Saturday and MSG’s “Vault” show is on, a 1965 game at the old Garden between No. 1 Michigan, with Cazzie Russell and Joe Lapchick‘s last St. John’s team. Bob Wolff and former Knick Sonny Hertzberg with the call. Neat stuff. But then . . .
During a scene-setting break, Al Trautwig, on tape, says that those who don’t recall this game (I didn’t; I was 12) should stick with it – it’s not just cool, old footage. Although Michigan is winning big, Trautwig says, the game takes a remarkable turn. Okay, good tout. But then . . .
MSG runs an insert within its Vault show. It shows a close-up of the scoreboard in the old Garden, which reads, “St. John’s 75, Michigan 74,” followed by the sight of people rushing the court to mob the St. John’s team. Then, back to the game. Boing! Why bother with the buildup if you’re going to tell us the ending before the ending?