Boxing: Lean and mean in LA

ONCE again, it didn’t make the second round but his growing band of supporters who made their way to Albuquerque weren’t complaining.

Bernard Dunne's ninth professional contest ended when Julio Cesar Oyeula retired after being clinically dismantled in three bruising minutes.

Dunne's record is now 9-0, eight inside the distance, six ending in the first, the other two in the second.

The Neilstown native is making quite an impact and in Hollywood's Wild Card Gym, they speak in hushed, reverential tones of the young Irish kid with the mean streak, the one who will be champion.

The gym is above a laundromat, unisex hairdressers and Thai media store. 1123 Vine Street offers no clues as to what lies within. Entering by rear metal stairs, you don't come looking for chic.

The room is small, dominated by a ring that is always in use. To the left, four heavy-bags and a free weight area. To the right, a handful of speed bags with every inch of the walls covered by posters of some of the finest fighters in recent times.

It's the typical sweat-box workplace of every promising fighter, but something untypical also catches the eye.

Hanging proudly next to the gym owners' name is the tricolour. You almost get the impression it's heralding what lies ahead. The gym is a simple affair, but an extremely effective one. Sometimes, the old ways remain the best.

Freddie Roach built the gym himself. The former crowd pleaser from south Boston ended his own career in 1987 with a 41-13 record. He had engaged the likes of Bobby Chacon and Hector 'Macho' Camacho in some shuddering contests, but his time fighting only honed the training pedigree waiting to emerge.

The year he retired Roach was in Virgil Hill's corner when he won the world light-heavyweight title. At 27 years of age, the young trainer was making history.

Having served an apprenticeship under the legendary Eddie Futch, Roach moved on and managed Mickey Rourke's gym for a while before moving across the road to the space that became the legendary Wild Card Gym.

Inside the gym, certain characters grab your attention. Initially, it's the big guys swinging their big, booming punches on the big guys. It doesn't take long to see real purpose in the less imposing figures.

One turns out to be a young man, Israel Vasquez, currently ranked third in the world at 122lbs. Much is expected of him. The same is said of another. His head is cloaked in the hood of a training top with one word printed on the back Ireland.

Bernard Dunne has been in America for two years and still finds it difficult to come to terms with. He no longer suffers from the early pangs of homesickness, having just settled down in the past year.

"The first while was tough. Being away from my family and friends was difficult. But then my girlfriend Pamela came over that helped me settle in. We get married back home in January she's back there now sorting out all the arrangements.

"We come back here six days after the wedding. The honeymoon will have to wait. The next year for me is huge," he says.

For any other 23-year-old away from home, temptation lies around every corner in LA. But this is no ordinary 23-year-old. Boxing is his life.

"Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays I spar. At the moment Freddie has me in with Manny Pacquiao (who turned the boxing world on its head on Saturday night with a shocking defeat of Marco Antonio Barrera for the world featherweight title).

Pound for pound he's one of the best in the world. He's training for Barrera, so we do six or eight rounds, whatever Freddie wants.

"Then I work the bags, the balls, skipping, do some bodywork and then circuits with the fitness trainer Justin. I go home, eat, rest and then run in the evenings. My runs are made up by Freddie's wife Sheila. Tuesdays and Thursdays I'm on the mitts with Freddie. Sunday's my day off.

"LA is great, don't get me wrong. But to me I'm here at a training camp. If friends or family come over I show them around, do all the usual stuff, Hollywood and all that, but apart from those times, I don't go out partying or chasing women. That's not for me.

"When I have some time off I go for a walk on the beach or on the pier at Santa Monica. I watch a lot of soccer, I've got the Premiership games on satellite and the GAA games when they're on.

"I went home for two months in the summer. It was hard to come back, but then I just remind myself how lucky I am to be in the situation I'm in. I'm a professional fighter. Freddie Roach is in my corner," he says.

DUNNE'S respect for Roach is total, he loves talking about the trainer, recognised as one of the best.

"To me he's a genius. He sees things and translates them in easy terms. He can pick and choose his fighters so it's great for me to be here.

"Everyone has an idol growing up. He was mine, and he's the only reason I'm here in LA. If it wasn't for Freddie I'd be in New York or Boston with the Irish. I'd be six hours from home. Here I'm 11 hours, but it's worth it.

"I think what makes it easy for me is the fact that he's been in there before with Steve Collins. He says Ireland is the only place he could see himself settling outside of here, he loves Ireland and the Irish people.

"The atmosphere here in the gym is great. There's nothing too flashy about the place, but it's got all the basics. Anyone can come in here and train. You get the ordinary Joe Soap training on a bag next to a world champion. Freddie treats everyone in here the same," he says.

The benefits of sparring with Dunne were apparent to Pacquiao and his corner in Texas on Saturday night. But the new World Featherweight champion is not the only major star that Dunne has gone toe-to-toe with in training.

He casts his mind over long days of sparring and some of the biggest, and best, fighters in the world spill from his memories.

"Freddie has confidence in me. That's why he puts me in sparring with guys who are worldclass. I've been in with Johnny Tapia, Willie Jorrin, Manny Pacquiao, James Toney. I boxed 60 rounds with Sugar Shane Moseley before he went and beat Oscar de la Hoya. That did a lot for me, it boosted my confidence."

Roach is an easy talker. He has had Parkinson's for more than a decade but has not let the disease defeat him.

Eloquent and soft-spoken, Roach is a gentleman in a cut-throat game. As he speaks, he leans on his desk giving him the perfect view of the world.

He has a lot of information to get out, revelling in Toney's recent win over Evander Holyfield: "That was the first time I saw him relaxed, he went for a walk, he signed autographs, he knew he was going to win."

His expected bout with Mike Tyson in the spring: "He talks shit better than anyone I know, Tyson will take the bait. If it goes beyond 3 rounds, James will win" before settling on his fast-rising Irish man.

All the time, he breaks conversation to offer the occasional piece of advice to someone training nearby, advice heeded reverently.

"Bernard's strongest assets are his speed and power. But he was born with a lot of ability and his father did a great job with him. I don't have to do a lot."

Roach deflects the credit, plays down his role. Of course, all you need to do is look at the litany of testimonies to him on the walls from his fighters past and present, to agree with Dunne's statement. Roach is a boxing genius.

Four week's ago Roach wasn't in Dunne's corner in Albuquerque, though he did have a good excuse.

The very same night he was in The Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino in Las Vegas witnessing Toney inflict a punishing defeat on Holyfield, a defeat that could finally end the glittering career of a legend.

Roach's mind never strayed far from the young Dubliner, about whom he has no qualms as declaring "his best prospect ever." This from a man who has worked with Toney, Tapia and Pacquiao. This is a partnership that works for both of them. And Roach is an astute judge of character.

"When James Toney needed to work on his speed we put him in with Bernard. James left with respect for him, they talk, James offers him some advice, James doesn't do that.

I leave the two ribbing each other. Dunne with the mean streak, Roach the man who once slapped the volatile Johnny Tapia between rounds "because he wasn't paying attention." Tapia listened and won.

Dunne has since won his tenth straight fight, but injured a hand.