Review: Then the World Moved On (2024)

By Catherine Johnson

On August 25, 1930, Max Baer and Frankie Campbell stepped into a boxing ring in Recreation Park in San Francisco for a heavyweight match. 

Only one of them walked out of that same ring.

There have been several boxing deaths over the years. It's a sometimes brutal sport, and accidents are almost unavoidable despite effort to make the most savage of competitions a little more, well, civilized. 

But this one seems particularly difficult to comprehend. Campbell, who was injured at some point in the second round, carried on until the fifth. That's when Baer knocked him senseless and into the ropes, and then continued to pound away at Campbell - over and over again to the point where most observers believe he took at least 20 straight punches without response. Finally, referee Toby Irwin stopped the fight, but it was far too late. Campbell essentially was dead when he was carried out of the ring, although he clung to life for several more hours in a hospital. 

It certainly was an outrage of an event; Catherine Johnson certainly thinks so. She's spent an unimaginable amount of time and effort putting research into a book on that fight and its subjects. It's called "Then the World Moved On," and you can read her rage on most of the pages. The veteran boxing fan is determined to set the record straight here.

Of the main characters presented in the story, Campbell is the main "good guy." He grew up in a family with an abusive father, but overcame it to become a good and humble husband and father. Frankie's real last name was Camilli; he changed it upon entering boxing in order to sell tickets to the Irish community. By the way, his brother Dolph played major league baseball for several years in the 1930s and 1940s.

But once you get past Frankie and the family, heroes are tough to find in this story. Even before the fight, Baer was a guy who never saw a character flaw he couldn't embrace. Boxing was the only way that he could come close to earning enough money to keep up with his spending, although his bank account never seemed to win that argument with the bank. Baer also wasn't too bothered by rules in boxing, establishing a reputation for bad behavior such as fouls in the ring. 

From there, we can move on to the referee, and Irwin was universally known as a bad official who seemed to have other priorities than a fair fight - in other words, lining his pockets by helping to fix bouts. The trainers, handlers and promoters weren't exactly honor students either, and the ruling authorities weren't known for their scruples. Gambling influences were everywhere in that era. 

Therefore, it seems like it was only a matter of time before it would all go tragically wrong in some case when a certain set of circumstances emerged. The "smart guys" had put their money on Baer to win in five rounds, and the future heavyweight champion and the referee made sure that the outcome came out as ordered. The health of Campbell wasn't a major concern apparently. 

After the fight, investigations took place in several areas. However, those smart guys had most of the bases covered. Boxing commissioners were quick to protect the principals, and Baer had a different version to tell about what happened almost any time he spoke about the subject in the ensuing years Little was done in the way of reforms suggested by the equivalent of a grand jury. 

Johnson compiles a bunch of Baer's lies from a variety of sources, and it is tough to know how much remorse the heavyweight felt for his actions. But the referee might even have a greater responsibility in the matter. You can argue that a boxer keeps going until told not to do so, and that someone has to uphold order in the ring. Irwin certainly did not do that. But Baer never showed any restraint, and handlers never jumped in the ring or threw in the towel. And so on.

This is a rather compelling story, even for one almost 100 years ago, and probably worth revisiting now. But there are a few problems along the way. 

The first centers on the writing. There is just an epidemic of unnecessary commas that have been placed in the story.  Remember that a comma is designed to make the reader stop and think for a moment, but the extra commas tend to break the train of thought. That forces visitors to the book to figure out what is being said. Also, some words and phrases along the way could use some editing. Self-published books (and I assume this is one) sometimes could use another editor, and this probably applies here. 

Johnson also has the habit of applying quirky metaphors in the boxing sections that read as if they were in a 1930 newspaper. Campbell's handlers simply aren't nervous; they are "near cardiac arrest as their moneymaker seemed about to drop his last gold coin." A foe lands on the canvas "as if Wrigley Field's baseball stands had fallen on him." In describing another knockout, Johnson writes, "Little birdies still orbited his head as Frankie's hand was raised in victory." That can be a charming technique when used once in a while about old-time news, but it should be done sparingly.

And sometimes, in spite of 1,400 sources, it's easy to wonder if minor assumptions aren't being made. Take this portion about Campbell's wife arriving at the hospital: "Her heels echoes in the quiet corridor as she raced breathlessly down the halls of the hospital. When she saw the full extent of what Max Baer had done to husband (sic), she whimpered in horror as she slowly approached hid bed." Since there's no footnote, where did that information come from?

There are those out there who follow boxing who think Baer received a raw deal in this whole matter, but Johnson does a very good job of getting the facts out into the open. For that, "Then the World Moved On" deserves to be noticed in boxing circles. While the flaws make it less than an easy read that may scare away some readers, it is nice to get the full story in these 328 pages. 

Three stars

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Review: Arum and King (2025)

By Marty Corwin

Back in the Eighties when I had a radio sports talk show, I actually had the chance to have both boxing promoters Bob Arum and Don King as my guests on the program at different times. Arum was on by phone and King was in the studio, and they took very different approaches to their jobs - just as you'd expect. Arum was straight-forward and factual, while King was entertaining and full of bluster. I have friends who still remember the time King got so caught up in his work that he could only yell, "Excitement! Excitement! Excitement!"

They were both promoting in their own ways, and you could see why they were very successful in attracting attention for their fights. Sometimes they were at war with each other, sometimes they had forced truces for a while. But when they were at the top of their games, mostly from the 1970s through the 2000s, they were never boring. 

When a book landed in front of me by the only person who was a department head of both organizations, well, I knew it had to be read and reviewed. Unfortunately, "Arum and King" doesn't live up to most expectations that a reader might carry into it. 

Marty Corwin is the author in question here. He headed up the television production departments for both King and Arum's companies, in that order. You wouldn't think anyone had the personality to survive working for such different bosses, but somehow Corwin made it work. 

Let's pretend that one of the promoters was the editor of the book, and the reader had to guess which one. You'd definitely say King was in charge. The volume is rather scattershot in its approach. The chapters seem like a mere jumping-off point as the story goes in all sorts of directions in its less than 200 pages of type. In other words, it feels like a Don King news conference - and perhaps an overpriced ($32 admission) at that. While the chapters give something of an outline to where things are going, the table of contents isn't exactly a road map into what's inside. In other words, there are all sorts of odd turns along the way. It's rather confusing in spots.

Meanwhile, there are obvious mistakes that come up along the way. There are some factual errors in the form of misspellings that pop up, and there are quite a few redundancies here. You should know that every Kindle book comes with a disclaimer saying that the text isn't final, and shouldn't be quoted until a final edition is put out. We'll have to see how much cleaning is done before the final product comes out, but quite a bit is needed. 

This also isn't a particular long book, at less than 200 pages. At times it feels rather padded, when descriptions of fights and fighters and listed at length. Reading it makes one think "I get the idea." The two promoters both come quite well here, even though both of them had some, um, issues along the ways in the form of legal issues and charges along the way. This is an affectionate recounting rather than a tell-all. 

"Arum and King" does have some value. The sport of boxing is nothing if not unpredictable, and Corwin certainly had some adventures. When Mike Tyson first got out of prison, Corwin was on the private plane that took King, Tyson and a few others back to a home in Ohio. Closer to the job, Corwin was responsible for the trains arriving on time when it came to massive television broadcasts of bouts that were beamed around the world. He had to do a lot of juggling along the way, and he seems to have made it all work for the most part. That's a quality that made him very valuable in the day; no wonder both promoters hired him. 

Both Arum and King have cut down on the workload way back in recent years as they are well into senior citizen status. Corwin essentially writes that one of the reasons boxing mattered so much in the days of their promoting primes was that they were geniuses in calling attention to their bouts. There are a number of reasons why "big fights" have gotten rare these days, and the loss of influence from Arum and King certainly is on that list. 

It feels like there's a decent book roaming around in the middle of "Arum and King." Corwin probably needed a better editor to draw out and highlight the good stories and make them flow much smoother. Barring some good-sized surgery before publication, most boxing fans probably will want to pass on this one. 

Two stars

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Review: Ara (2024)

By Mark O. Hubbard

Any discussion about Ara Parseghian probably should start with his name. It's memorable to American audiences, just like its owner.

Ara is a popular first name among Armenian families, since there was a beloved king by that name. That puts you in position to realize that the last name is Armenian as well, as his family at various points crossed the ocean and ended up in Akron, Ohio. 

It's still an unlikely journey from there for Ara Parseghian to be something of a household name in football-loving American households - especially those in the vicinity of South Bend, Indiana. That, naturally, is the home of Notre Dame University. Parseghian coached there for 11 seasons, enough to make him a Hall of Famer and something of a legend.

That leads us to a biography of Parseghian, appropriately named "Ara." It only takes three letters to identify the subject of this one. It's a thorough book that generates a discussion about the issue of access versus objectivity.

But first, a word about Ara's life. He had a good playing career at Miami (Ohio), and signed a pro contract with the Cleveland Browns. However, a hip injury ended Parseghian's time as a pro really before it started. He went back to his alma mater and became a freshman football coach, and then moved up a step when Woody Hayes left for Ohio State. Ara did well at Miami, and was all right in his next stop at Northwestern despite playing much bigger schools in the Big Ten. When Notre Dame decided it was time to look for a new football coach, Parseghian's name popped up high on their list. 

It didn't take him long to make an impression. In 1964, Parseghian was only a few minutes away from a win over Southern California and a national championship. The Trojans pulled that game out, but 9-1 was a sign that Notre Dame football was in good hands. Ara stayed in South Bend for 11 seasons, and his worst records were a pair of 7-2-1 seasons. 

Along the way, the Fighting Irish claimed a couple of national championships. One was in 1966, the year of a famous 10-10 tie with Michigan State in one of the epic games in college football history. (To be fair, the Spartans probably deserved to split the title with Notre Dame that year under the circumstances.) The other was 1973 and came with no baggage; a thrilling win over Alabama in the Sugar Bowl took care of that. Still, ND usually was a contender for national honors, as good seasons popped out of the copying machine year after year. 

Hubbard does make a great point that Notre Dame's independent status is something of a drawback, particular in the 1960s when teams were not going to bowl games. Without a conference affiliation, ND's basic goal every year was a national championship, because there was no second prize. That's a rather high standard. 

Happily, Parseghian by all accounts was a man of high integrity. He won the right way, which was important at Notre Dame. There was an incident involving some players in 1974, which probably is a little underplayed here, but otherwise this was a very clean program. There's a lot to admire here. 

Parseghian lasted 11 seasons, and his retirement was unexpected and sudden. There is pressure on the football coach at Notre Dame, and he had had enough of it. Interestingly, Notre Dame has had several good coaches since then, including Lou Holtz. Only Brian Kelly made it to a 12th season, and he left before the year was over to jump to LSU. Ara eventually made the transition into other areas, such as broadcasting, and did considerable charity work. It was quite a second act, since about 40 years elapsed between retirement and death.

That leads the discussion into access, an important point in this case. Hubbard has a couple of other books about Notre Dame to his credit, writing about the 1953 and 1966 Irish teams. He wrote the script of a video that was played at Parseghian's funeral. Mark first met Ara when the '66 book was in development in 2011, and Hubbard eventually became quite close to the entire family.  

The first clue about the resulting book is right on the cover - "An authorized biography." That means the family allowed Hubbard access to all sorts of information that usually isn't well know. It sounds like Ara kept a ton of material around the house. Some of it winds up here in the form of letters from fans, letters to other coaches and administrators, notes on speeches, playbooks, etc. A few things, like Parseghian's somewhat compulsion to record the details of all of his golf games, mercifully have been lost to history in the form of some cleaning over the years. It's interesting to see some of this material in public, since it usually is not ever disclosed for readers.

But here's where the problem is. The book isn't at all objective about Parseghian and Notre Dame. They get the benefit of the doubt in every case. There are no flaws to be found here. Hubbard still seems to be upset about some officiating in Notre Dame games from long ago, even if he probably wasn't around to see it. There's also a little talk about other people being jealous of Notre Dame and its great record, which turned into bias against the school in poll voting. So it reads as if it were written by a big fan, which it was. And after a while, it all becomes a bit much. Parseghian probably would be the first to say he was no saint, but this is often over the top. 

"Ara" has its virtues. It certainly will fill in the gaps of the career of a remarkable coach, and it probably has been a big seller at the Notre Dame bookstore since publication. Fans of Parseghian will gobble it up. The family members certainly must have been proud of the finished product. But the book is a little too one-sided for my tastes, and maybe for some others as well.

Three stars

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Review: The Golf 100 (2025)

 

By Michael Arkush

Ranking the top 100 performers in any sport seems to be a popular book form right now. I've gone through versions for baseball and football, and been entertained. Basketball is in my Kindle and standing by the scorer's table, waiting to check into the game. But first, there's the matter of golf. 

The first two spots in golf's historical rankings are relatively easy. We know that Jack Nicklaus and Tiger Woods probably rank at the top of anyone's list. It's just a matter of what you value in a career. If you consider the longest great career, Nicklaus is the clear winner. But if it's the "pick one player for a winner-take-all match between Earth and Mars," Woods in his prime would be a worthy choice. 

It's the other 98 spots on the list that are the problem. Happily, Michael Arkush is up to the challenge. He's taken the time (a considerable amount, I should mention) to rank the best ever from 1 to 100. It's all included in his very readable book, "The Golf 100." 

There are two surprises that come up right off the bat. Arkush's list includes the best 100 golfers of any type. In other words, there are several women on the list. That's less of a problem that you might think. Arkush is comparing accomplishments on the golf course here, and not how everyone would do in a tournament at the local country club. That makes some sense when you consider that a male player who was winning championships 110 years ago couldn't come close to today's pros, but he did the best he could (which was really good) under the circumstances. So it works out well to put everyone under the same brightly colored golf umbrella. By the way, Mickey Wright is the only woman to crack the top 10.

The other is in the introduction, as Arkush comes up with a point system to try to rank all of the players. Players pile up the points by winning major championships in any competition, with a few consolation points handed out for near-misses. Yearly titles (player of the year awards, most wins, etc.) also count. The author adds some bonus points for certain circumstances, which actually makes a lot of sense. 

From there, Arkush forgets all about the points more or less. That's fine. Get to the good parts as soon as possible. So we are off on a journey that starts with No. 100, John McDermott. The story immediately became a little personal for me. 

I knew very little about John McDermott, except for the fact that he won the United States Open in Buffalo in 1912. The course is literally a left turn, a left turn and a right turn from my house. - a few miles at most. McDermott made it two Opens in a row on that course, which is rare air, and he was the first to finish the tournament under par. A few years later, McDermott suffered a nervous breakdown, and never really recovered. His life went downhill, and he never competed with golf's best in the pros. 

But there's one nice story that Arkush tells about the 1971 United States Open near Philadelphia. McDermott, looking less than well dressed, was essentially kicked out of the clubhouse when Arnold Palmer happened to be walking by. Palmer welcomed him and had a good initial chat with the former champion. Then he made McDermott his special guest for the week, making sure he had full clubhouse privileges. It's another reason to love Arnie. 

I suppose you could argue about where a particular player should rank. But as with all of these books, it usually doesn't matter much if someone is No. 48 (Ben Crenshaw) or No. 47 (Johnny Miller). You want to hear about each player and why they are so good, and Arkush usually delivers. You'll learn a bit about all of the players.

My favorites in the group might be the "what ifs?" of golf history. We can probably say in looking back that Phil Mickelson would have been rated higher if he hadn't played in the Woods Era - and hadn't let a few majors get away. We also can also wonder where Nancy Lopez and Sam Snead might have ranked had they put a few U.S. Open trophies in their den. 

It's tough to say how this will go over with anyone who doesn't have a good sense of golf history. But Arkush certainly put in the work to make "Golf 100" work well for those who qualify. As they say on the course, it's well played. 

Four stars

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Review: Homestand (2025)

This book really didn't play fair with me. 

It's something of a love letter to the Batavia Muckdogs of the Perfect Game Collegiate Baseball League. Author Will Bardenwerper spent several days in the summer of 2022 with the team in its quest to win a championship while keeping "organized" baseball alive in that city that's located about 45 miles from Buffalo down the Thruway.

The book, "Homestand," was written shortly after major league baseball's "contraction" of several minor league teams after the pandemic. Some New York State squads got together in 2021 to form a summer league from the remains of those franchises, as some of them like Batavia didn't survive the cut.

In an interesting coincidence, I actually attended the final two games of that season in Batavia in 2022. I even checked my baseball scorebook. It was odd that I actually recognized a few names in the scorebook after reading the book, as opposed to when I saw them in person at the time. I've tried to go to Batavia every so often over the years; I even announced a game on the radio in the 1980s there.

Speaking of coincidences, the owner of the Muckdogs also owns the Elmira Pioneers of the PGCBL. Bardenwerper makes a couple of trips there for games. I spent ages 9 to 14 in Dunn Field in Elmira, learning about baseball from my father's company's season tickets along the first-base line. I can still picture the place; I took a walk on the field and in the stands before a PGCBL game when in town in 2023. 

Therefore, there was absolutely no chance I wouldn't like this book. Heck, I lived a little of it. And I did enjoy it - even if I knew how the story of the season was going to turn out (no spoilers here).

Bardenwerper is an interesting personality. He went to Princeton and had a finance job in New York when 9/11 hit. That inspired him to enlist in the Army, and he saw duty in Iraq. After his time was up, Will eventually landed a Masters' degree in international studies and worked at the Pentagon. He has one other book to his credit - the story of Saddam Hussein and his American captivity during the end of the Iraqi's leader's life. 

Still, baseball stays with him. He played in college, and has been a New York Mets' fan for much of his life. But the minor league contraction hit him hard, as MLB ended a tradition of small-town professional baseball that went back decades to save a relatively pittance. So it was off to Batavia for some R&R, even if the players were simply college kids playing summer ball who had little chance to advance their careers past this stop. 

Bardenwerper, then, is of two minds during the course of his summer. He wants to be furious about the way cities like Batavia have been treated, but he likes the way the citizens of the small town have banded together to keep some of the magic around. The author makes friends with the front office members and the manager, of course. But he also manages to fit in with some of the other fans who are regulars. Some walk a few blocks from their home to Dwyer Stadium, while others drive in from Buffalo. It does feel like some of small-town America is still alive and well in Batavia. 

In addition, Bardenwerper stayed in hotels in the Batavia area during his season with the Muckdogs, That gave him time to explore the town a bit. He had meals there, and frequently ran into - or set up appointments - with others. It allows him to inject some local flavor into the story. 

This all adds up into an odd sort of contradiction at the center of the book. He likes what he sees in Batavia, but is still angry about what was lost. So the tone essentially goes back and forth. It's also a little odd that the book was written about the 2022 season, and is only coming out now. I know first-hand that such delays happen, but an update on the situation and the players might have been worth knowing. 

It's also worth mentioning from my standpoint that Buffalo doesn't come off particularly well here. Bardenwerper seems obsessed about the weather, making several knocks about the winter snows in the region. For someone who lives in Pittsburgh and was here in summer - and in terms of weather, Western New York has better summers than almost anywhere else - this comes off as a little petty. 

That said, there's a lot to like in the book. Not much has been said or written about the towns that got left behind when the MBA types in MLB decided to break with the past. There are plenty of moments in "Homestand" that will remind you what we've lost.

Four stars

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