Monster Chick To Fight A Man In Biloxy Boxing Ring.... :scared :scared
Calkins: Bout will turn stomachs -- and a page in history
Taking licks all her life, she's ready to jab back at a Gentleman
Ann Wolfe did not set out to make history, to become the first woman to box a man. She set out to get warm.
This is how it is when you're homeless, when you have two small daughters, when your only dream is to get through another day, or another hour in the lethal cold.
"It's about survival," she said. "You learn the tricks."
You ride city buses, two hours one way, then two hours back.
You go to $1 movie theaters and stay for two shows.
You linger in hospital emergency rooms.
That's where Wolfe was when she looked at the television banked against the wall, and saw something that would reshape her life.
"I was cold," she said. "I wasn't doing anything but trying to get warm. I was sitting there, warming up, when something on TV caught my eye."
A woman boxing.
Two women boxing.
"I said to myself, 'I bet I can do that.' "
? ?
On Aug. 20, in Biloxi, Miss., Wolfe will fight James Johnson in a bout that will make some stomachs turn.
A man hitting a woman. A woman hitting a man.
Is this sport or circus? Is this really what we need next?
Yes, Danica Patrick drove in the Indianapolis 500. Yes, Annika Sorenstam played on the PGA tour. But Wolfe herself notes one small distinction.
"The men weren't punching them," she said.
Wolfe, 34, is in Memphis as part of Saturday's undercard. She'll fight Marsha Valley in her last bout before she becomes boxing's Billie Jean King.
By fighting a Gentleman. Which happens to be James Johnson's nickname.
Can a Gentleman really hit a woman?
"I have to," Johnson said, by phone from Louisiana. "I have to prove this shouldn't be done."
Wolfe shrugged. Unlike Johnson, she's not trying to prove anything. She's trying to make a living and anyone got a problem with that?
"Nobody cared what I was doing when they stepped over me and my children on the street," she said. "Why should they care now?"
Wolfe is measured, dignified. How's that for a surprise?
Dignity is hard enough to find in boxing, let alone in a sideshow like this. But Wolfe's story doesn't permit chortling, doesn't leave room for much but respect.
"My mother and father died within 11 months of each other," she said. "I had no place to go."
She moved from rural Louisiana to Waco, Texas. She learned to avoid shelters and bad men.
"At shelters, most of the people are drug addicts and alcoholics," she said. "A lot of women in my situation find a man to live with. Then he beats them up and abuses their children. I didn't want that."
Wolfe found refuge in an apartment parking lot for a time, under a boat. People tend to park their boats in the back of the lot, see.
"What did I tell you?" she said. "You learn the tricks."
Warm days were easy enough. The family could sleep anywhere.
Cold days were harder, and required them to be perpetually on the move. Wolfe earned $35 a day as a laborer, doing construction usually. Most of the money was spent on day care for her daughters. When the day care closed, they'd all ride the buses, or go to Wal-Marts, or pay by the hour at that kind of hotel.
"We could usually afford a few hours at $3 an hour," she said. "Then we'd go back to the day care."
One night, she went to that emergency room and saw women boxing. The next morning, she found a gym.
Don 'Pops' Billingsly recalls the first day Wolfe walked in.
"You ever trained a woman?" she said.
"Only my daughters," he said. "I trained them before they got married so they could take care of themselves."
Wolfe pondered this for a long second.
"Will you train me?"
Billingsly has been Wolfe's trainer from that moment. He'll be in her corner Saturday night.
"I called her Brown Sugar," he said. "Other people call her the Louisiana Swamp Thing."
Wolfe is naturally strong, from hauling water and doing chores. She didn't know how to fight at first, but she knew how to work.
She took three fights for $1 each just to get the experience. After a while, she earned enough to buy a truck for everyone to sleep in.
Then one night in Waco, a man named Brian Pardo saw Wolfe fight.
"He said he'd never seen anyone fight like I did," she said. "He started paying me after that."
Now Wolfe lives in an apartment in Austin. She doesn't have a lot of money, just enough to give away.
She has a gym in her own name where poor kids can come and train.
"I remember what it was like to want things I couldn't have," she said. "I never had soda pop. We didn't have running water. If I can help kids, why shouldn't I?"
This is why Wolfe wants to fight Johnson, by the way. Not to become a part of history or a freak show.
Women don't want to box Wolfe because they've seen what she did to former Tennessee basketball player Vonda Ward. She hit her with a massive right that rendered Ward unconscious for hours.
"I was on the verge of tears," said Brian Young, Wolfe's promoter. "It was one of the scariest things I've ever seen."
Young offered Laila Ali $500,000 to fight Wolfe. He was willing to offer more.
"Laila is running her mouth at the same time she's running her feet," he said. "It's probably better for Wolfe to fight a man anyway. When she fights women, she hurts them."
None of which frightens Johnson, the Gentleman, who absolutely understands what he's up against.
"People ask me what will happen if I lose," he said. "I won't lose, there's no chance."
Johnson isn't just some schlub off the street. He's a 29-year-old fighter with a 20-14-2 record and a dozen knockouts.
That's right, a dozen knockouts.
Of men.
"I expect her to be game but, c'mon, she's a woman," he said. "She won't last four rounds with me."
Wolfe makes no threats or promises. She's not that kind. She quietly signed autographs at the public workouts the other day. She gave out boxing-glove keychains to the kids.
In the midst of it all, Joyce Bibbs, 44, ran over to shake Wolfe's hand. And ask a favor, too.
"Could you come to my house and beat up my husband?" she said, laughing.
Wolfe nodded, ever obliging.
"Sure," she said. "Where do you live?''
:scared :scared :scared
Calkins: Bout will turn stomachs -- and a page in history
Taking licks all her life, she's ready to jab back at a Gentleman
Ann Wolfe did not set out to make history, to become the first woman to box a man. She set out to get warm.
This is how it is when you're homeless, when you have two small daughters, when your only dream is to get through another day, or another hour in the lethal cold.
"It's about survival," she said. "You learn the tricks."
You ride city buses, two hours one way, then two hours back.
You go to $1 movie theaters and stay for two shows.
You linger in hospital emergency rooms.
That's where Wolfe was when she looked at the television banked against the wall, and saw something that would reshape her life.
"I was cold," she said. "I wasn't doing anything but trying to get warm. I was sitting there, warming up, when something on TV caught my eye."
A woman boxing.
Two women boxing.
"I said to myself, 'I bet I can do that.' "
? ?
On Aug. 20, in Biloxi, Miss., Wolfe will fight James Johnson in a bout that will make some stomachs turn.
A man hitting a woman. A woman hitting a man.
Is this sport or circus? Is this really what we need next?
Yes, Danica Patrick drove in the Indianapolis 500. Yes, Annika Sorenstam played on the PGA tour. But Wolfe herself notes one small distinction.
"The men weren't punching them," she said.
Wolfe, 34, is in Memphis as part of Saturday's undercard. She'll fight Marsha Valley in her last bout before she becomes boxing's Billie Jean King.
By fighting a Gentleman. Which happens to be James Johnson's nickname.
Can a Gentleman really hit a woman?
"I have to," Johnson said, by phone from Louisiana. "I have to prove this shouldn't be done."
Wolfe shrugged. Unlike Johnson, she's not trying to prove anything. She's trying to make a living and anyone got a problem with that?
"Nobody cared what I was doing when they stepped over me and my children on the street," she said. "Why should they care now?"
Wolfe is measured, dignified. How's that for a surprise?
Dignity is hard enough to find in boxing, let alone in a sideshow like this. But Wolfe's story doesn't permit chortling, doesn't leave room for much but respect.
"My mother and father died within 11 months of each other," she said. "I had no place to go."
She moved from rural Louisiana to Waco, Texas. She learned to avoid shelters and bad men.
"At shelters, most of the people are drug addicts and alcoholics," she said. "A lot of women in my situation find a man to live with. Then he beats them up and abuses their children. I didn't want that."
Wolfe found refuge in an apartment parking lot for a time, under a boat. People tend to park their boats in the back of the lot, see.
"What did I tell you?" she said. "You learn the tricks."
Warm days were easy enough. The family could sleep anywhere.
Cold days were harder, and required them to be perpetually on the move. Wolfe earned $35 a day as a laborer, doing construction usually. Most of the money was spent on day care for her daughters. When the day care closed, they'd all ride the buses, or go to Wal-Marts, or pay by the hour at that kind of hotel.
"We could usually afford a few hours at $3 an hour," she said. "Then we'd go back to the day care."
One night, she went to that emergency room and saw women boxing. The next morning, she found a gym.
Don 'Pops' Billingsly recalls the first day Wolfe walked in.
"You ever trained a woman?" she said.
"Only my daughters," he said. "I trained them before they got married so they could take care of themselves."
Wolfe pondered this for a long second.
"Will you train me?"
Billingsly has been Wolfe's trainer from that moment. He'll be in her corner Saturday night.
"I called her Brown Sugar," he said. "Other people call her the Louisiana Swamp Thing."
Wolfe is naturally strong, from hauling water and doing chores. She didn't know how to fight at first, but she knew how to work.
She took three fights for $1 each just to get the experience. After a while, she earned enough to buy a truck for everyone to sleep in.
Then one night in Waco, a man named Brian Pardo saw Wolfe fight.
"He said he'd never seen anyone fight like I did," she said. "He started paying me after that."
Now Wolfe lives in an apartment in Austin. She doesn't have a lot of money, just enough to give away.
She has a gym in her own name where poor kids can come and train.
"I remember what it was like to want things I couldn't have," she said. "I never had soda pop. We didn't have running water. If I can help kids, why shouldn't I?"
This is why Wolfe wants to fight Johnson, by the way. Not to become a part of history or a freak show.
Women don't want to box Wolfe because they've seen what she did to former Tennessee basketball player Vonda Ward. She hit her with a massive right that rendered Ward unconscious for hours.
"I was on the verge of tears," said Brian Young, Wolfe's promoter. "It was one of the scariest things I've ever seen."
Young offered Laila Ali $500,000 to fight Wolfe. He was willing to offer more.
"Laila is running her mouth at the same time she's running her feet," he said. "It's probably better for Wolfe to fight a man anyway. When she fights women, she hurts them."
None of which frightens Johnson, the Gentleman, who absolutely understands what he's up against.
"People ask me what will happen if I lose," he said. "I won't lose, there's no chance."
Johnson isn't just some schlub off the street. He's a 29-year-old fighter with a 20-14-2 record and a dozen knockouts.
That's right, a dozen knockouts.
Of men.
"I expect her to be game but, c'mon, she's a woman," he said. "She won't last four rounds with me."
Wolfe makes no threats or promises. She's not that kind. She quietly signed autographs at the public workouts the other day. She gave out boxing-glove keychains to the kids.
In the midst of it all, Joyce Bibbs, 44, ran over to shake Wolfe's hand. And ask a favor, too.
"Could you come to my house and beat up my husband?" she said, laughing.
Wolfe nodded, ever obliging.
"Sure," she said. "Where do you live?''
:scared :scared :scared
