THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, June 7, 1994 TAG: 9406070433
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY FRED KIRSCH, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: 940607 LENGTH: Long
Beavers reaches out a hand without looking and takes the tube of medicine.
{REST} ``Thanks, Mom,'' he says.
And you thought Don King and Mike Tyson were the odd couple of boxing.
There's probably never been a one-two combination in the fight game quite like the mother-and-son team of trainer Chris Beavers and manager Susan Beavers. After all, in how many corners can you find a 20-year-old kid who barely shaves and his 44-year-old, angel-faced mom?
``Sometimes,'' says Chris, ``I'll look out in the crowd when we're working a fight and think, `There's people out there who are probably wondering, `What in the world are those two doing in a boxing ring?' ''
Turning out some of the best upcoming young pros in Virginia. Since Chris and Susan opened their storefront, no-frills Portsmouth Athletic Club gym last fall, they've produced a state pro champ and six amateur titleholders. And in Darryl ``Cherry Bomb'' Cherry, ``Tuff Tony'' Pope and Jimmy (``We've got to get him a nickname pretty soon'') James, the Beaverses have a trio of belters who some think could become ``contendahs.''
On this Thursday night, the Beaverses have five fighters on the card at the Peppermint, on the Oceanfront. The marquee outside promises ``A Night of Fisticuffs.''
Inside, an hour before the first bout, arcade games are blinking and ``Take It Easy'' is blaring. The only thing being knocked down are longneck Buds by the crowd, which is slowly getting on its fight face.
Chris and Susan are off in a dim corner in the back, taping hands and slathering Vaseline on their ``guys.''
``It's like having your kid brother and your mama training you,'' says Pope, a 29-year-old super middleweight with a 4-0 record who drives a truck by day. ``You can't get away with anything. They work you to death and they love you to death. But how can you beat that?
``When you go into that ring, you're ready. They know boxing inside and out.''
Chris was barely old enough to walk when he first climbed into the ring and started firing off roundhouse rights at the old gym his dad, Doug, now the state boxing commissioner, used to run.
``I grew up in my dad's gym,'' says Chris, who compiled a 33-0 record as an amateur before a shoulder injury ended his career. ``I really can't remember not boxing.''
And he can't remember his mom not being in his corner.
``I worked all his fights. That's why he was undefeated,'' says Susan, the first woman in Virginia licensed as a second.
After Chris graduated from Wilson High, where he was an outstanding football player and wrestler, he was going to go off to college. But the more he thought about it, the more he felt he could get a better education staying at home and majoring in the sweet science.
``It's really all I've wanted to do,'' says Chris. ``I love working with people and I love the teaching part of boxing. So, I asked my folks what they thought about me opening a gym.''
Doug and Susan Beavers didn't have to think about it very long.
``There are so many people out there in life with college degrees looking for a niche in life, trying to find a place,'' says Susan. ``And here's this 20-year-old kid who knows exactly what makes him happy. We told him, `Go for it.' ''
Chris had only one thing to say.
``Mom, how about managing the place?''
The Portsmouth Athletic Club gym sits on the corner of Detroit and Broad in the blue-collar Port Norfolk section. In the old days it was Gleason's Pharmacy and more recently a baseball card shop.
Inside the PAC, it's 1952. The floor is aged tile. A speed bag, a double-end bag and three heavy bags hang from the ceiling. A weight bench occupies a corner in the front. The ring is in the back.
On the wall are the rules:
No Drugs, No Alcohol.
No Weapons.
No Boom Boxes.
No Loitering.
Use Equipment Properly.
Be Respectful.
Set A Goal.
As Chris explains it in his best gravelly trainer's voice, ``You're not gonna turn out many good fighters in a health club.''
The Beaverses had barely opened the door - which holds a sign saying, ``Don't Walk in Unless All Dues Are Paid'' - when Carlton West walked in. Or Carlton ``Wild Wild'' West, as Susan would soon call him.
``The family had worked with me back a while ago,'' says West, a 33-year-old cruiserweight. ``So when I heard they were opening a gym, I knew it was the place for me.
``What makes them so good is that they know you so well. What you can and can't do. And they're very patient. Although Mrs. B can get on you if you don't do what they tell you.
``I wasn't bearing down in my last fight and she lit into me pretty good. Said I better take the guy out or I'd have to deal with her. I took him out.''
Not long after West showed up, James, Pope, Rickey Fletcher and Cherry, the state middleweight champ, signed on.
``I wish they were here eight years ago, when I started,'' says Fletcher, a 32-year-old who is also a kickboxer. ``They've not only made me a better fighter, but they've become a family to us. They take you home and feed you. They listen to your problems. They're there for you.''
It's not only the best gym, says Fletcher. It's the cleanest: ``Soon as you open the door, you can smell the Clorox. That's Mrs. B.''
The PAC has 16 pros.
``We thought we might have five or six pros by now,'' Susan says. ``It's really surprised us. We've already outgrown this place and are looking for a bigger one.''
In addition to the pros, Chris and Susan train more than a dozen amateurs, conduct ``executive'' boxing workouts and teach classes for kids.
When a kid comes in for the first time, he has to show his report card. No pass, no box.
Susan, who has been a teacher's aide and also performs as a clown, sees her role extending beyond the ring.
``Boxing is a great sport. I really believe that. But it's just a vehicle to reach people,'' she says. ``It's a way of building self-esteem and keeping young people out of trouble. Just watching these guys grow as people has been the real joy. You don't have to be champion to be a winner in boxing.''
Of course, if James, a good-looking 22-year-old cruiserweight, or the explosive Cherry or Pope or a kid who walks in tomorrow were to ever become a world champion, that would be OK.
``Wouldn't that be something?'' says Chris. ``That's my dream.''
But the best part by far, say Susan and Chris, is working with each other.
``At fights, I do the talking, but Mom will give me me advice,'' says Chris. ``She sees a lot of things I don't. There's still no one else I'd rather have in a corner with me.''
They've had a verbal duke-out or two, but nothing on the order of Hagler vs. Hearns.
``Yeah,'' says Susan, shooting her son a look, ``I've had to remind him a few times that while he thinks he's the boss, I know I'm the boss.
``Actually, it's been a wonderful experience. We've always been extremely close, but this has given me a chance to know and appreciate Chris in a different way.''
Chris Beavers closes the wound over Fletcher's eye and sends him out for Round 3, screaming over the crowd's noise, ``Look for your combinations.''
``And stay inside, Ricky,'' adds Susan, ``or this guy will kill you. Stay inside.''
Fletcher hangs tough for the next two rounds and wins a unanimous decision and the PAC wins its second bout of the evening.
As they're leaving the ring, Susan looks over at the scantily clad, reed-thin ring girls parading around and says to no one in particular, ``Maybe when I'm 60, I'll be one of those.''
Pope is up next.
``Just take your time and pick your spot,'' Chris implores Pope while Susan massages his neck.
Pope waits 15 seconds and unleashes a right. It's all over.
A few minutes later, James takes his opponent out in 1:33 of the first round with a thunderous combination that draws gasps from the crowd.
And now it's Dorin Spivey's turn. Spivey, a 21-year-old welterweight who isn't managed but is trained by the Beaverses, is fighting the six-round finale.
``He's a puppy,'' says Susan. ``All energy. He could be terrific . . . if he listens.''
He listens enough. Spivey wins by TKO as the final round winds down.
``Not a bad night,'' says Chris as he and Susan pack up the rolls of tape and towels before heading home.
He leans over and kisses his mother.
by CNB