THE loss of former rugby league player Anthony Mundine to Texan Charles Hatley on Wednesday in a World Boxing Council Silver super welterweight bout in Melbourne could be the end of an era for a famous Australian Abrogine boxing family.
The 40-year-old Mundine defied the odds and critics fifteen years ago by switching from rugby league to boxing at the age of 25 and went on to win three world titles, doing one better than his dad and namesake known better as Tony Mundine.
Mundine Jr was like his dad a top rugby league player.
The senior Mundine only went as far as to be Commonwealth lightheavyweight champion and lost his world title fight against Argentine legend Carlos Monzon in a 7th round knockout in 1974.
But the loss of the Commonwealth title in 1978, in Melbourne just like on Wednesday by his son, was in dramatic fashion to a Canadian in an unexpected punch of the eleventh round. While his son was punched on the chin a couple of times his dad was hit there only once.
He also fought a fight here in Suva in the heavyweight division against Samoan knockout champion Fossie Schmidt knocking him out in one round.
Apart from that Mundine met a number of Fijian fighters.
He kayoed Jo Fabiano in Noumea in 1980, 2nd round TKO on Ananai Curubera in Sydney in 1979, 5th round KO of Alipate Korovou in Sydney in 1971, kayoed Ravuama Roko in round 2 in Sydney and won on TKO over Jeke Naqelevuki in Sydney in 1970.
The Canadian pugilist that Tony Mundine took his title was Gary Summerhays.
He was more of a slugger compared with Mundine who was a classic boxer and threw punches in combinations, sometimes six variety of punches at one time and it was beautiful to watch.
Mundine Sr was a Commonwealth middleweight champion also before moving to lightheavyweight and Summerhays fought him for the title.
From the first round to the eleventh it was all Mundine and the Canadian took everything dished out to him but remained on his feet.
At most times he covered up against the ropes as Mundine tattooed and pampered his face and body with a repetition of combinations but the Canadian refused to go down.
In the final minute of the final round, Mundine paused a second from the onslaught on Summerhays, who was leaning and swaying on the ropes with blood coming out of his face. Mundine thought that he had done enough, or maybe he wanted to take a final breather to review his handiwork.
But when he stepped back Summerhays made a last resort swing with his massive left hand and caught the backpedalling Mundine square on the chin.
The Australian went down hitting the canvas flat on his back and failed to get up before the count of 10 by the referee.
It was one of the most dramatic ends to a fight in boxing history and from that knockout Mundine was always referred to as the man with the glass jaw by boxing critics.
After Samoan heavyweight Schmidt cleaned up the local boxing fraternity knocking out every Fijian in his wake he went big in the papers and said that he would knock Tony Mundine out because he had a glass jaw. Mundine had just lost his Commonwealth title in February to Summerhayes and in July he was scheduled to fight the Samoan in Suva.
A local sports reporter who thought that the Aussie really had a jaw made of glass interviewed Mundine when he got off at Nausori Airport and asked him: “Fossie Schmidt says you have a glass jaw.”
The Commonwealth champion was coming off the check-out counter both hands carrying suitcases.
Hearing the question from the reporter, he dropped both bags on the floor and roared, “What.”
The reporter jumped back as the champion went into a boxing stance.
The angry Aussie gave the reporters every description of the way the fight was going to end.
He carried that anger onto the ring and hammered the hapless Samoan slugger around sending him sprawling on the canvas six times before finally knocking him out.
Down the Fiji Sun newspaper office in Lami there was a fellow worker who was always stuck in his desk in the office and got off work after midnight every day and was a member of a lively yaqona drinking group in his community.
He was always expected to bring the latest news from the next day’s paper to his doped companions.
He was a master storyteller but his sources were from reporters coming back from covering assignments or from bits and pieces gleaned through the next day’s sports pages being prepared for the press.
Everybody was waiting expectantly for him to arrive with the much-awaited boxing story. Since he did not want anybody to leave early as he thirsted to gulp down the same volume of grog and reach the same level of dopiness his mates had achieved, he started his storytelling from the supporting bouts.
He mumbled through the names, helped on by his eager and unsuspecting listeners.
He spent almost an hour describing in detail the Samoan pre-match ritual of carrying a tape recorder to the ring and doing a Samoan siva or dance.
By the time he got into the first punch thrown by Mundine one of his listeners had dashed outside to vomit. When the boxing story ended the echoes of the lali for six o’clock Sunday morning prayer meeting was being sounded.
His mates later learnt the whole truth the day after but they still flock to enjoy his yarns and tall stories.
