11"x 8 1/2" Uniball pen, Fude brush, Pentel brush pen and Faber-Castell big brushes in Canson sketchbook.
My Dad was a gentleman and a gentle man. I boxed in my youth and even though he disapproved of the sport, he was glad that I knew how to handle myself. As a reward for keeping my grades up and staying out of trouble he would take me to see the prize fights at the 34th street Madison Square Garden in New York City.
On December 12th, 1969 we went to see Jerry Quarry vs George Chuvalo. Quarry had lost a fight for the Heavyweight championship the previous June and was trying to stay in contention for another chance to fight for that title. He agreed to fight the Canadian heavyweight champion George Chuvalo for that chance.
That night Quarry gave Chuvalo a beating and was ahead on points at the end of the 6th round. Between rounds I heard Chuvalo's cornermen imploring him to "get out there and hit him".
With just under one minute in the next round Chuvalo hit Quarry with a flurry of hard punches, and took a hard punch in return.
Chuvalo appeared spent.
Suddenly he hit Quarry on the forehead with a left hook. Quarry stood for a moment, then stumbled backward falling to the canvas on his side. It was as if the energy force of the punch travelled from his head down through his legs taking them right out from under him.
Quarry jumped to his feet as the referee began counting to ten. I could hear the time keeper counting in unison with the referee over the public address system despite the deafening roar of the crowd. Both referee and timekeeper yelled "ten" and Quarry stood up. The referee began waving his arms. It's over.
Too late. He was counted out He missed the ten count. Cornermen for both fighters began jumping over the ropes into the ring. A photographer jumped into the ring taking photos. After some arguing and pleading the decision stood. Chuvalo was the winner.
At that moment looked up and saw Quarry's face. That image is burned into my memory forever and that is what I have drawn here. My Dad, an accountant, told me on the way home that prizefights should always know how to count to ten.
