THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, April 6, 1996 TAG: 9604050044
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Larry Maddry
LENGTH: Long : 106 lines
AL ROTHENBERG, a Navy hero during World War II, should be puttering around in a garden like a lot of men his age. Or maybe tending his arthritis.
Not Al. He's a lean, taut gent living in Virginia Beach. He thwocks the racquetball with men half his age - a remarkable physical specimen.
He has to be.
At age 77, he's a world-class boxing referee. His last refereeing job was back in September when he flew to Johannesburg, South Africa, to break up clinches between Vuyani Bungu and Mark Johnson in the bantamweight world championship.
Separating a pair of brain-pounding, stomach-jolting punchers capable of belting each other into the next county is no job for the timid.
He has been known to step between fighters by aiming his elbows at the base of their necks.
``If a fighter refuses to let go, I sometimes inadvertently find that my elbow has lodged against an Adam's apple,'' he said. ``I always apologize, but it's amazing how quickly they tend to separate when I urge them to afterwards.''
Since becoming a referee about 20 years ago, Al has handled 2,500 to 3,000 bouts. He has refereed 34 title bouts, including a heavyweight world championship bout between Larry Homes and Carl ``The Truth'' Williams in Reno, Nev., in 1985.
``Holmes fought an excellent fight,'' he recalled. ``His opponent wanted to mix it up and fight, but Holmes didn't want do do that. He closed in when he wanted to and on his own terms.''
But if you are looking for a fighter who excels at ring generalship, look no further than ``Sweetpea'' Whitaker, the world champion welterweight, Al says. He has refereed three of Whitaker's title fights.
``Sweetpea defines ring generalship in my opinion,'' Al said. ``Yes, he's been well-schooled, but his movements are instinctive. He just makes the right moves without thinking. If you have to think about it, it's too late.''
Al began his refereeing career in the Navy. For the past 12 years, he has been the chief of boxing officials in the state.
Nothing infuriates the veteran ref like the oft-repeated statement that ``a good referee is never noticed.''
``A referee is supposed to be where the action is,'' he said. ``If you are where the action is you are doing a good job. And you are going to be noticed. When you are in a ring that's 21 feet by 21 feet, where the hell are you going to hide?''
Quick on his feet, Al is also feisty. A year ago he ordered the legendary trainer Lou Duva out of Rogue's Club in Virginia Beach during a match involving a Duva fighter. (The trainer's proteges have included such notables as Evander Holyfield and Whitaker.)
``Duva's fighter was punching his opponent as he tried to climb back in after slipping out of the ring,'' Al said. ``I wouldn't allow it. Lou came storming across the ring complaining that I had cheated his fighter out of a knockout. He stuck his finger in my face. I had him evicted.''
What distinguishes Al from most referees is the sense of authority he brings to a bout. Although only 5-foot-7, there's never any doubt who's in charge from the moment he steps into the ring. Slipping deftly between the ropes, he looks - with his natty moustache and black bow tie - like the sort of old-school military man often found sitting ramrod-straight in a leather chair, thumbing through The Times in a British Club.
In his years of refereeing no one has ever complained that he has done a poor job in the ring, he said.
``What you get complaints for from coaches, trainers and fighters is for stopping a fight `too soon,' '' he explained.
Stopping a fight to prevent critical injury or death of a boxer is the most difficult decision in the sport, he said.
``Some boxers have a thing in their brain that tells them to go down when they are hurt,'' he said. ``Others don't have it. Knowing when to stop a fight is an instinctive thing. You look in the eyes and see if there's anything working behind them . . . if the fighter is trying to protect himself, if he's lost the ability to fight back.
``You try to prevent calling the fight yourself. I've sometimes gone over to a coach, looked him in they eyes, and asked if he's sure he wants his man to continue going through the punishment.''
But he never hesitates to call a fight when he thinks it's necessary.
``I've seen the losing fighter jump up and down and get very angry for the crowd as if to say, `How dare you!' '' he said. ``But I know that down deep inside he's saying, `Thank God you did it!' ''
Courage comes easily to Al, who, as a Navy pilot in World War II, won the Navy Cross, the Silver Star, the Distinguished Flying Cross and three Air Medals.
And he's less impressed than most by the big names in boxing. Maybe because he knows a few big names outside the sport on a first-name basis. One is astronaut Wally Schirra who has been a pal since Schirra was assigned to Al's squadron in the Navy years ago.
Another close friend - of 50 years - is Red Auerbach. Auerbach, the fabled president of the Boston Celtics pro basketball team, makes his box in Boston Garden available to Al and his wife, Doris, whenever the referee's in town.
During his clinics for Virginia trainers, coaches, judges, timers and referees, Al tells refs to always work in a triangle of 45 degrees extending from the fighters.
``The distance they keep from the fighters is a matter of personal preference,'' he said. ``I like to get in as close as possible to the action.''
And he always did. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo by Jim Walker
Though only 5-foot-7, Al Rothenberg of Virginia Beach knows how to
handle big tough boxers.
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