Former World Heavyweight Boxing Champion
DOWN & OUT IN MONACO
GERRIE COETZEE
© GERRIE COETZEE 2010-2018
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July 02, 1979
Down And Out In Monaco
John Underwood
Gerrie
Coetzee
is
a
hero
worshiper.
His
idol
is
Muhammad
Ali,
no
small
concession
for
a
South
African
Voortrekker.
Coetzee
(pronounced
coat-SEE-ah)
has
a
full-size
poster
of
Ali
in
his
bedroom
in
the
Transvaal,
where
as
a
teen-ager
he
studied
to
be
a
dental
technician
before
deciding
to
make
a
career
as
a
heavyweight
boxer.
He
greatly
advanced
that
career
last
Sunday
night
in
Monaco
by
knocking
out
Leon
Spinks
in
the
first
round
of
their
scheduled
12-round
bout.
In
that
brief
transaction,
Coetzee
floored
Spinks
three
times,
thus
sending
everyone
back
to
the
chemin
de
fer
tables
where
they
could
do
some
losing
themselves.
For
Spinks,
the
raw
brawler
who
had
stripped
Ali
of
the
championship
in
a
15-round
decision
in
February
of
last
year
only
to
surrender
it
back
to
Coetzee's
idol
last
September,
it
was
only
the
second
loss
of
his
10-fight
pro
career,
but
it was a most calamitous one.
In
the
nine
months
since
Spinks'
muddled
and
spiritless
defense
had
cost
him
his
title,
a
new
Spinks
supposedly
had
been
born.
The
1979
model
may
be
nothing
more
than
the
old
Leon
with
his
hat
off.
New
Leon
trains
under
the
hard
eye
of
an
ex-cop
named
Henry
Grooms.
Grooms
has
only
recently been added to the entourage of the former champion, which like geologic plates, is massive and tends to shift under stress.
Ostensibly,
Grooms'
job
is
to
keep
Leon
out
of
automobiles,
his
frequent
downfall,
and
teach
him
a
reasonable
facsimile
of
discipline
and
etiquette.
Like
where
and
when
not
to
wear
his
sensational
hats
(inside
as
opposed
to
outside,
for
example)
and
when
to
plug
in
the
earphones
of
his
megawatt portable stereo, thus reducing the danger that restaurant patrons could be blasted out of their seats on his arrival.
Evidences
of
Spinks'
conversion,
if
not
the
talk
of
Monte
Carlo
and
the
Riviera
last
week,
were
at
least
a
frequent
topic.
Leon
arrived
at
the
appointed
places
hat-less,
or
hat
in
hand.
He
often
arrived
plugged
in,
a
remote
captive
of
his
music.
But
always
he
arrived
late.
In
matters
of
time,
New Leon is still a confirmed procrastinator.
In
the
days
preceding
the
fight
Spinks
seemed
always
to
be
somewhere
behind
Coetzee,
an
unbeaten
but
somewhat
suspect
fighter
who
had
won
21
straight
bouts—none,
it
was
invariably
noted,
outside
his
homeland.
However
a
less
publicized
statistic
is
that
he
also
is
the
veteran
of
192
amateur
bouts,
having
won
180
of
them
by
knockouts.
Always
Coetzee
showed
up
promptly
at
press
conferences
and
public
functions.
Outside
a
boxing
ring,
he
is
a
gentle
man,
a
white
man
liked
by
his
black
countrymen.
Blacks
have
spoken
out
on
his
behalf
in
the
Transvaal
Post
because
he
has
"denounced
racialism."
Always
Coetzee
was
there
wherever
and
whenever
promised;
always
Spinks
kept
the
crowds
waiting
and
fight
promoter
Bob
Arum,
the
shrewd
New
York
lawyer
who
rules
that
half
of
the
boxing
world
not
under
Don
King's
suzerainty,
shifting
his
feet
and
muttering
under
his breath.
And
sure
enough,
on
fight
night
there
was
Coetzee,
first
again.
As
far
as
anyone
could
tell,
New
Leon
never
arrived.
By
the
time
his
buzzing
brain
came
around
to
identifying
what
hit
him
(to
wit,
the
24-year-old
Coetzee's
right
hand),
the
ex-champion
was
walking
back
to
his
dressing
room
alone, fighting back tears, leaving his entourage shocked and confused.
Meanwhile,
Coetzee's
backers,
nearly
as
numerous
as
Spinks',
were
whooping
it
up
with
a
purpose.
Not
only
had
their
hero
destroyed
Spinks,
but
also,
as
a
consequence,
it
seems
sure
Coetzee's
next
fight
will
be
against
John
Tate
for
the
WBA
title
that
the
37-year-old
Ali
is
expected
to
vacate.
Coetzee
thus
would
never
meet
his
idol
in
the
ring,
but
he
has
at
least
had
that
pleasure
outside
it.
He
made
a
pilgrimage
to
the
U.S.
to
see
Ali
last
year.
Coetzee
recalls
that
he
"got
goose-flesh"
when
they
met,
and
that
Ali
"made
me
take
off
my
shirt
for
a
picture.
He
asked
me
to
throw
a
left
jab.
He said it was good, but Rina, my wife, could do better."
Three
days
before
the
fight
with
Spinks,
Coetzee
sat
with
Rina
in
a
hotel
lobby
in
San
Remo.
He
had
just
upstaged
Spinks
again
while
making
an
appearance
with
the
mayor
and
a
boys'
band;
Spinks
showed
up
as
everybody
was
leaving.
Softly,
almost
wistfully,
Coetzee
said
that
it
scared
him,
but
"right
now
I
do
not
think
I
can
be
beaten."
He
tapped
his
forehead
with
the
forefinger
of
his
right
hand,
the
hand
he
had
broken
so
many
times
that
he
almost
called
it
quits
a
year
ago.
An
operation
fusing
the
carpals
to
the
metacarpals
saved
his
boxing
career.
"I
have
seen
some
things
that
he does." Coetzee said. "I think I can take advantage of them."
What
Coetzee
had
seen—in
films,
and
on
television—was
that
Spinks
could
be
made
to
lower
his
left
hand
and
thus
open
himself
to
a
right
lead.
Coetzee planned to make him do this by attacking him under the rib cage, where the 6'1", 198-pound Spinks appears almost frail.
As
it
turned
out,
Coetzee,
who
stands
6'3"
and
weighed
in
at
221,
did
not
have
to
do
any
attacking.
Spinks
came
at
him
"like
a
bull,"
Coetzee
said
afterward.
The
determined
suddenness
of
the
Spinks'
assault
drew
gasps
from
the
tiny
crowd
(2,000-plus)
gathered
in
an
arena
that
had
been
hastily thrown together in a parking lot, as well as from Spinks' corner, which had instructed him to feel Coetzee out for a couple of rounds.
Coetzee
withstood
Spinks'
repeated
charges,
one
of
which
practically
propelled
the
South
African
through
the
ropes
and
onto
the
apron.
When
the
fighters
were
disentangled,
Coetzee
made
one
sweeping
pass
at
Spinks'
ribs.
It
missed.
But
Spinks
got
the
message.
After
that,
Coetzee
didn't
have
to
send
any
more,
or
set
up
anything,
although
a
telling
right
after
a
break
was
a
postscript
signalling
that
Coetzee
meant
business.
Spinks
never
raised
his
left
much
above
his
waist
again.
In
the
two
minutes
the
fight
lasted
two
facts
were
established:
1)
Coetzee
proved
handsomely
that
although
his
hand
speed
doesn't
approach
that
of
Ali,
he
is
not
just
another
boring,
lumbering
white
hope,
and
2)
the
surgeon
who
operated
on
his
right hand was a helluva career-fixer.
Coetzee's
righthands
came
in
breathtaking
succession.
They
were
economical
deliveries,
unerringly
to
the
point,
arcing
tightly
over
Spinks'
lowered
left.
The
first
caught
Spinks
behind
the
left
ear.
It
turned
him
terribly
slack
and
he
hit
the
deck.
Spinks
was
up
at
the
count
of
eight,
but
clearly
something
had
been
taken
out
of
him.
The
Coetzee
rights
that
followed
were
undisguised
save
for
a
single
diversionary
left.
Cumulatively,
those
rapid-fire
punches
put
Spinks
down
twice
more.
Later,
after
the
three-knockdown
rule
had
been
invoked
to
stop
the
fight,
Spinks
would
only
remember the first one. "But I was beat, man, you understand that?" New Leon said, rejecting commiseration. "I got beat."
Coetzee
said
he
was
"grateful"
that
Spinks
gave
him
this
chance,
and
that
it
had
allowed
him
to
prove
that
he
had
deserved
an
opportunity
to
fight for an Olympic gold medal. He did not get that chance in Montreal "because of politics."
Suddenly,
with
that
statement,
Coetzee
found
himself
in
potential
trouble
for
the
first
time
during
his
Monte
Carlo
stay.
He
headed
off
reporters
by
quickly
adding,
"But
I
am
too
young
to
discuss
politics."
He
also
said
he
was
"very
surprised"
that
victory
had
come
so
easily.
Rina,
the
one
with
the
superior left jab, said she was surprised, too. "I thought Gerrie would knock him out in the sixth," she said.
