RIP Cedric Kushner

Sad news for NY-area boxing lifers, as the popular promoter Cedric Kushner, arguably a “B+” tier dealmaker with inarguably an grade “A” personality, died on Thursday, from a heart attack.

The fight-maker had a fondness for heavyweights, and was himself one, before undergoing surgery to downsize his frame. Kushner, age 66, was in ill health the last several years after a stroke, but friends in the fight game will recall his times in the sun, such as when his guy Hasim Rahman flipped the script and downed champion Lennox Lewis in a 2001 clash.

Kushner, born in South Africa, trod a well worn path, from the music promotion business to the sweet science. Both have low barriers to entry, where a man with XL dreams and a gift for persuasion can hack out a pathway to success. His boxing path started in 1984, or so, and he brought some flair for decibels and flash to the sport. In 2000, you would see the man and his sort of walrus-y facial hair, looking the tiniest bit glum, presiding over a show filled with B grade heavies at the Hammerstein Ballroom, in NYC, with dancers cavorting here, cigars and massages being smoked and indulged in there.

Kushner would back a Monte Barrett, or a David Tua, and get them wins, and hope they kept winning, so that they could be maneuvered into a title crack. He’d also be a figurehead to young fight game folks, who’d look up to him for wisdom and odd and delightful anecdotes. Aris Pina, of CompuBox, publicist Greg Juckett, folks like this are now laid low with the sad news…

He’d get into the big picture now and again, for sure, and early on, tasted limelight when he advised South African heavy Gerrie Coetzee, who gloved up against Larry Holmes in 1984. His all-time roster stacked up quite nicely with contemporaries over the decades. He world with and for “Irish” Teddy Mann, Marlon Starling, John Collins–Kushner worked the Illinois region for a spell—Robert Allen, Oliver McCall, Axel Schultz, Shane Mosley, Angel Manfredy, Shannon Briggs, Joel Casamayor, Ike Ibeabuchi, younger Peter Quillin.

Reporters enjoyed Kushner for his availability, and ability to fashion a decent quote, as when he said about Don King in 1988, “I used to have two pit bulls. They were too mean, so I had to get rid of them. The only difference between those dogs and Don King is that Don is much more vicious.”

That desire to give a show an extra spark made him a real-deal promoter; he brought boxing to the Apollo Theater in 1997, and was constantly looking to come up with an angle, a hook, a concept. Some recall his 2002 stab at a revamp, “ThunderBox,” which featured three round bouts and rap acts interspersed throughout. Was it a case of using tasty bbq sauce to mask past its prime beef? That could be argued, but it has to be said that Kushner knew the role of promoter was often to make the best of a bad proposition. His “Heavyweight Explosion” series often entertained to a degree greater than the sum of the parts would predict.

His stress level grew in 2000, and 2001, when he testified that he had to pay to play ie give money to an IBF exec to insure decent treatment of his fighters and took rival Don King to court, labeling him a racketeer. This guy who stopped out in sixth grade, in Cape Town, and then tried his hand as a merchant marine, before putting together shows for Fleetwood Mac and the Stones and the like, yes indeed, he packed a lot of living in.

2001 was a colorful year, as King swooped in and snagged Rahman. Kushner attended to some of the upheaval with a 2003 gastric bypass surgery. “I can’t stress enough how good I feel just a month after the operation. From an elephant to a greyhound, is what I say. For the first time in years, I’m optimistic about my life,” he told Thomas Hauser.

Ced, Uncle Ced as pal Lou DiBella called him, spoke at a groggy pace and didn’t have a face that screamed state of joy. But he dug what he did, big time. “I’m probably one of the few people who goes to work and doesn’t look at his watch to see if it’s time to go home,” he said to Bobby Cassidy in 2005. “I look at my watch to see what time other people go home. I’m happy. I’m doing what I enjoy.”

And it wasn’t the work that was everything to him. “Boxing guys were his family,” DiBella told me. “His family was his boxing family.”

Ced was sort of like the ribald uncle, who turned you on to whiskey at a semi-inappropriate age. DiBella recalled when he started at HBO, coming over from a law firm and met Cedric for the first time.

Would you like to take a ride to Atlantic City with me, he rumbled, in a Hitchcockian tenor,  to still 20-something DiBella.

Why not, Lou said.

Ced snored some of the way there–he was well over 3 bills, with that walrus ‘stache–and they got to AC. On a seedy side street Ced saw someone he knew. “Driver, stop the car! Mary Anne,” he called out, from the window of the stretch limo, to a gal who was no stranger to a concrete hustle. “Mary Anne! How is your mum?”

This is 1990, this Harvard law grad has a dropped jaw…

“She’s much better, thanks for asking, Ced!”

Lou collected himself, asked what that was all about.

“Her mum was sick. She’s a person too!”

Well curated recollection, because it spoke to Kushners’ different sides, and the intermingling of the facets of personality and behavior we all possess, but in our fight game sphere, is often better tolerated and even appreciated than in mainstream society.

We all enjoyed Kushners’ perseverance and imagination, as when he staged a fight card in the Hamptons, in 2002, to try and bring some sweaty buzz to that meeting ground for the idle riches.

Ced soldiered on, without excessive grumbling, though his vessel was pulling a mutiny on him. David Tua proved to be a long-standing money-maker for Ced, who in 2005 acknowledged thew ups and downs he’d experienced.

“Life isn’t always fair,” Kushner said to Hauser. “And boxing rarely is. But I keep plugging along.”

The plugging included health battles, such as a 2011 spinal surgery…and we saw Ced less and less at local shows. Close pals visited him, and checked in with a man they knew loved the sport, and loved, and treated them, like family.
Ced will be sorely missed.

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COMMENTS

-Radam G :

Wow! Year after year -- death we don't escape. Greatest condolences to all the fam and friends of Ced K. May he conquer it all in the afterlife. I'll see you at the cross, Ced K! Holla!


-brownsugar :

I remember when A day wouldn't pass without CK's name being mentioned in association with a music concert. RIP.


-The Commish :

Great tribute to Cedric above. At his zenith, "ced," as we called him, was making some pretty good money in boxing--nd showing it. He had an apartment in New York City and a large, beautiful house in East Hampton. It's address was Two Holes of Water Road. The only reason I haven't forgotten that address is because it is so easy to remember. One Summer weekday in the early 1980's, during my tenure at Ring Magazine, Ced invited me to have lunch with him at the Two Holes address. As my wife was working, I went by myself. Early eighties. No cell phones. No GPS. I used something called a map. A map and directions Ced gave me over the phone. I'm still surprised I was able to find it. When I pulled into his driveway, I was in front of a six-foot wooden fence surrounded a rectangular, Olympic-style pool. Kushner heard my car and yelled, "I'm back 'ere, Randy." I pulled the fence door open and proceeded to walk in. Kushner--all 300+ pounds of him--sat in a lounge chair in a white sweatsuit. On his head was a white baseball-style cap with the letters "CKP"--Cedric Kushner Productions. On the ground and asleep at his feet was a pit bull. It was the largest Pit Bull I have ever seen. It WAS asleep, as I mentioned, until it heard the gate click closed. Then it looked up. It didn't bark. It didn't howl. It roared! In a flash, the dog was up, snarling, roaring and showing me the same look Mike Tyson showed to all of his opponents, especially in his pre-Buster Douglas days. Then it charged at me. I didn't have to think twice. The dog would be on me before I could get back to the gate. So, instead of running, I prepared to jump in the pool. Before I could throw myself in the pool, Kushner yelled, "DOWN, DAISY! DOWN!" The powerful beast immediately stopped in her tracks and laid down. My heart was up around 200 beats per minute. "Thank you, Ced," I replied. "I was about to jump in your pool, clothes and all." "It wouldn't have helped," said Kushner. Puzzled, I looked at him. "Why not?" I asked him. "She loves the pool. She can swim very well!" I began to back slowly towards the fence as Daisy kept her eyes on me. "Randy, stay right there," said Kushner. "Watch this." I looked at Ced, but mostly, I looked at Daisy. "Daisy, give him a kiss." My eyes went from Daisy to Kushner. "Are you crazy, Ced?" I gasped. "Just watch," he said. "And don't show any fear. Daisy, kiss." Daisy then picked herself up and strolled over to me. "Hi. Daisy," I said, in my softest, most-quivering, please-don't-maul-me" voice. Daisy walked over and sniffed me. I reached down and patted her head. She lifted her head and licked my palm. She licked it again. "Let 'er kiss your face." "Are you fu..." Kushner cut me off. "Just do it," he said. "She already likes you." I went to my knees. Daisy bulled her way inside. Then she slurped my face with the wettest dog kisses I have ever had put on my face. "Now you can come over 'ere," Kushner said. Daisy walked with me over to Kushner. "How did you know Daisy liked me?" I asked Kushner. "I mean, you knew it right away. How did you know she'd kiss me. How did you know she liked me?" "If she didn't," said Kushner in his dry, quirky sense of humor, "you would have been dead a moment after you put your hand down." If my pants weren't wet already, they were then! Cedric Kushner and I talked tons about boxing that day, and we also talked about life. As we talked, he smoked. Cigarette after cigarette. "These things are gonna' kill me," he said, holding up a cigarette after an hour or so of chain smoking. "Between these, the eating, the drinking and the women, my days in this world are numbered," he said. "Why don't you just give up the cigarettes, the eating and the partying?" I asked him. "Because then I'll die of boredom," he said. Cedric Kushner is to be inducted into the New York State Boxing Hall of Fame in April. I will be in attendance and smile...probably even shed more than a few tears...as his name is called off. He truly deserves the honor of induction into the NYSBHOF. I just wish it didn't have to be posthumously. -Randy G.


-Radam G :

Great tribute to Cedric above. At his zenith, "ced," as we called him, was making some pretty good money in boxing--nd showing it. He had an apartment in New York City and a large, beautiful house in East Hampton. It's address was Two Holes of Water Road. The only reason I haven't forgotten that address is because it is so easy to remember. One Summer weekday in the early 1980's, during my tenure at Ring Magazine, Ced invited me to have lunch with him at the Two Holes address. As my wife was working, I went by myself. Early eighties. No cell phones. No GPS. I used something called a map. A map and directions Ced gave me over the phone. I'm still surprised I was able to find it. When I pulled into his driveway, I was in front of a six-foot wooden fence surrounded a rectangular, Olympic-style pool. Kushner heard my car and yelled, "I'm back 'ere, Randy." I pulled the fence door open and proceeded to walk in. Kushner--all 300+ pounds of him--sat in a lounge chair in a white sweatsuit. On his head was a white baseball-style cap with the letters "CKP"--Cedric Kushner Productions. On the ground and asleep at his feet was a pit bull. It was the largest Pit Bull I have ever seen. It WAS asleep, as I mentioned, until it heard the gate click closed. Then it looked up. It didn't bark. It didn't howl. It roared! In a flash, the dog was up, snarling, roaring and showing me the same look Mike Tyson showed to all of his opponents, especially in his pre-Buster Douglas days. Then it charged at me. I didn't have to think twice. The dog would be on me before I could get back to the gate. So, instead of running, I prepared to jump in the pool. Before I could throw myself in the pool, Kushner yelled, "DOWN, DAISY! DOWN!" The powerful beast immediately stopped in her tracks and laid down. My heart was up around 200 beats per minute. "Thank you, Ced," I replied. "I was about to jump in your pool, clothes and all." "It wouldn't have helped," said Kushner. Puzzled, I looked at him. "Why not?" I asked him. "She loves the pool. She can swim very well!" I began to back slowly towards the fence as Daisy kept her eyes on me. "Randy, stay right there," said Kushner. "Watch this." I looked at Ced, but mostly, I looked at Daisy. "Daisy, give him a kiss." My eyes went from Daisy to Kushner. "Are you crazy, Ced?" I gasped. "Just watch," he said. "And don't show any fear. Daisy, kiss." Daisy then picked herself up and strolled over to me. "Hi. Daisy," I said, in my softest, most-quivering, please-don't-maul-me" voice. Daisy walked over and sniffed me. I reached down and patted her head. She lifted her head and licked my palm. She licked it again. "Let 'er kiss your face." "Are you fu..." Kushner cut me off. "Just do it," he said. "She already likes you." I went to my knees. Daisy bulled her way inside. Then she slurped my face with the wettest dog kisses I have ever had put on my face. "Now you can come over 'ere," Kushner said. Daisy walked with me over to Kushner. "How did you know Daisy liked me?" I asked Kushner. "I mean, you knew it right away. How did you know she'd kiss me. How did you know she liked me?" "If she didn't," said Kushner in his dry, quirky sense of humor, "you would have been dead a moment after you put your hand down." If my pants weren't wet already, they were then! Cedric Kushner and I talked tons about boxing that day, and we also talked about life. As we talked, he smoked. Cigarette after cigarette. "These things are gonna' kill me," he said, holding up a cigarette after an hour or so of chain smoking. "Between these, the eating, the drinking and the women, my days in this world are numbered," he said. "Why don't you just give up the cigarettes, the eating and the partying?" I asked him. "Because then I'll die of boredom," he said. Cedric Kushner is to be inducted into the New York State Boxing Hall of Fame in April. I will be in attendance and smile...probably even shed more than a few tears...as his name is called off. He truly deserves the honor of induction into the NYSBHOF. I just wish it didn't have to be posthumously. -Randy G.
Nice copy which would be a marvelous eulogy. Holla!


-deepwater2 :

I talked with this man at the hotel across the street from msg , I said your man Mitch rose or something or other hit on my date and I want to fight him, his mustache was impressive and he said that is your problem man. I bought him another drink and I said this old bastard is cool hand Luke . He was a good man. A fighting man. A doc kearns. An old time fighting man. I liked this man. Rip this man. God bless this man.boxing is this man.


-deepwater2 :

Commish, that was beautiful .I am in tears.


-george0383 :

He was a one of a kind human being. Sorry to hear about his passing. Those were the days my friend, those were the days


-stormcentre :


D2: Yep, cool hand Luke alright.
Commish; good story. Met the guy twice, and Tua told me few outrageously good and humorous things about Ced.


-The Commish :

I talked with this man at the hotel across the street from msg , I said your man Mitch rose or something or other hit on my date and I want to fight him, his mustache was impressive and he said that is your problem man. I bought him another drink and I said this old bastard is cool hand Luke . He was a good man. A fighting man. A doc kearns. An old time fighting man. I liked this man. Rip this man. God bless this man.boxing is this man.
He really was a good man. There was not a bad bone in his rotund body. His loss really hurts. An old fighter of his--Teddy Mann--will be joining me and Cooney on tonight's show at 7:30pm (ET). For anybody who has SiriusXM, it's on channel 92. It should be a fun interview. -Randy G.


-Scar :

Very sad news. Rest in peace.


-Domenic :

Great tribute to Cedric above. At his zenith, "ced," as we called him, was making some pretty good money in boxing--nd showing it. He had an apartment in New York City and a large, beautiful house in East Hampton. It's address was Two Holes of Water Road. The only reason I haven't forgotten that address is because it is so easy to remember. One Summer weekday in the early 1980's, during my tenure at Ring Magazine, Ced invited me to have lunch with him at the Two Holes address. As my wife was working, I went by myself. Early eighties. No cell phones. No GPS. I used something called a map. A map and directions Ced gave me over the phone. I'm still surprised I was able to find it. When I pulled into his driveway, I was in front of a six-foot wooden fence surrounded a rectangular, Olympic-style pool. Kushner heard my car and yelled, "I'm back 'ere, Randy." I pulled the fence door open and proceeded to walk in. Kushner--all 300+ pounds of him--sat in a lounge chair in a white sweatsuit. On his head was a white baseball-style cap with the letters "CKP"--Cedric Kushner Productions. On the ground and asleep at his feet was a pit bull. It was the largest Pit Bull I have ever seen. It WAS asleep, as I mentioned, until it heard the gate click closed. Then it looked up. It didn't bark. It didn't howl. It roared! In a flash, the dog was up, snarling, roaring and showing me the same look Mike Tyson showed to all of his opponents, especially in his pre-Buster Douglas days. Then it charged at me. I didn't have to think twice. The dog would be on me before I could get back to the gate. So, instead of running, I prepared to jump in the pool. Before I could throw myself in the pool, Kushner yelled, "DOWN, DAISY! DOWN!" The powerful beast immediately stopped in her tracks and laid down. My heart was up around 200 beats per minute. "Thank you, Ced," I replied. "I was about to jump in your pool, clothes and all." "It wouldn't have helped," said Kushner. Puzzled, I looked at him. "Why not?" I asked him. "She loves the pool. She can swim very well!" I began to back slowly towards the fence as Daisy kept her eyes on me. "Randy, stay right there," said Kushner. "Watch this." I looked at Ced, but mostly, I looked at Daisy. "Daisy, give him a kiss." My eyes went from Daisy to Kushner. "Are you crazy, Ced?" I gasped. "Just watch," he said. "And don't show any fear. Daisy, kiss." Daisy then picked herself up and strolled over to me. "Hi. Daisy," I said, in my softest, most-quivering, please-don't-maul-me" voice. Daisy walked over and sniffed me. I reached down and patted her head. She lifted her head and licked my palm. She licked it again. "Let 'er kiss your face." "Are you fu..." Kushner cut me off. "Just do it," he said. "She already likes you." I went to my knees. Daisy bulled her way inside. Then she slurped my face with the wettest dog kisses I have ever had put on my face. "Now you can come over 'ere," Kushner said. Daisy walked with me over to Kushner. "How did you know Daisy liked me?" I asked Kushner. "I mean, you knew it right away. How did you know she'd kiss me. How did you know she liked me?" "If she didn't," said Kushner in his dry, quirky sense of humor, "you would have been dead a moment after you put your hand down." If my pants weren't wet already, they were then! Cedric Kushner and I talked tons about boxing that day, and we also talked about life. As we talked, he smoked. Cigarette after cigarette. "These things are gonna' kill me," he said, holding up a cigarette after an hour or so of chain smoking. "Between these, the eating, the drinking and the women, my days in this world are numbered," he said. "Why don't you just give up the cigarettes, the eating and the partying?" I asked him. "Because then I'll die of boredom," he said. Cedric Kushner is to be inducted into the New York State Boxing Hall of Fame in April. I will be in attendance and smile...probably even shed more than a few tears...as his name is called off. He truly deserves the honor of induction into the NYSBHOF. I just wish it didn't have to be posthumously. -Randy G.
Sweet tribute man.


-Domenic :

I talked with this man at the hotel across the street from msg , I said your man Mitch rose or something or other hit on my date and I want to fight him, his mustache was impressive and he said that is your problem man. I bought him another drink and I said this old bastard is cool hand Luke . He was a good man. A fighting man. A doc kearns. An old time fighting man. I liked this man. Rip this man. God bless this man.boxing is this man.
Mitch Rose beat an undefeated Butterbean, I think.


-brownsugar :

He really was a good man. There was not a bad bone in his rotund body. His loss really hurts. An old fighter of his--Teddy Mann--will be joining me and Cooney on tonight's show at 7:30pm (ET). For anybody who has SiriusXM, it's on channel 92. It should be a fun interview. -Randy G.
great story Commish. I hope you put that in the book.


-The Commish :

great story Commish. I hope you put that in the book.
With Cedric, the stories are plentiful...and fun. What an absolutely terrific guy he was. -Randy G.


-ArneK. :

Nice piece Mr. Commish, a peachy anecdote and one more reason why I look forward to reading your book. I didn't know Cedric Kushner, but had several brief conversations with him. Unlike most power brokers in boxing, he was very down-to-earth. When I heard the news, I flashed back to July 18, 1997, a great night of boxing in Las Vegas. The headline attraction pitted Johnny Tapia against Danny Romero. Bob Arum promoted Tapia. Cedric Kushner had Romero. Twenty days earlier, Evander Holyfield gave Mike Tyson an earful at the MGM Grand. The mood in the aftermath of the "bite fight" was ugly. I could sense it and got the hell out of there before the casino pit turned into a war zone. Tapia-Romero, an advance sellout, was headed to the Las Vegas Hilton, but the Hilton got cold feet after the Tyson-Holyfield mess and cut the cord. Lying with a straight face, a Hilton spokesman said that they were compelled to cancel the event because Arum hadn't provided a certificate of insurance before the required deadline. Arum and Kushner salvaged the show by moving it up the street to the basketball arena on the UNLV campus. I well remember a steamed-up Arum calling for a boycott of Hilton hotels at the pre-fight press conference as Kushner, seated with the Romero team on the dais, looked on with a bemused expression. I also remember all the buses sitting outside the arena. Those buses traveled nearly 600 miles. They came from Albuquerque, the hometown of both Tapia and Romero. At big boxing shows in Las Vegas, the executive airport is bustling with people arriving in private planes. This was a blue-collar crowd; an exuberant crowd but very well-behaved. There wasn't a single incident. The Hilton looked stupid. Johnny Tapia won the Battle of Albuquerque and unified the 115-pound title by a unanimous decision in an entertaining fight. There was a big upset in the main supporting bout when Baby Jake Matlala defeated Michael Carbajal (TKO 9). In boxing, perhaps more than any other sport, we are blind to the importance of events that unfold before our very eyes. Matlala's victory attracted little mention in the U.S., but it thrust Baby Jake -- all 4-foot-10 of him -- into a national hero in his native South Africa. That was a great night of boxing, but as I googled around this morning, re-visiting the event to corroborate my memories, I was struck with an overwhelming sense of sadness. The third man in the ring for Tapia-Romero was Mitch Halpern. At age thirty, Halpern was already recognized as one of the best referees in the world. Three years later he was dead. No one had any inkling that he was troubled in a way that would lead him to take his own life. The mercurial Tapia was 45-years-old when he left us in 2012. The official cause of death was a heart attack, but his life story was one big extenuating circumstance. Jake Matlala died of pneumonia at age fifty-one in December of 2013. His death came two days after the death of one of his biggest fans, Nelson Mandela. They say that Michael Carbajal isn't doing so well and now Cedric is gone too. May he rest in peace.


-brownsugar :

Beautiful slice of life Arnek... That ear biting event did get nasty.


-King Beef :

R.I.P, sounds like he was genuinely a nice guy, in the world "boxing sharks".


-The Commish :

Nice piece Mr. Commish, a peachy anecdote and one more reason why I look forward to reading your book. I didn't know Cedric Kushner, but had several brief conversations with him. Unlike most power brokers in boxing, he was very down-to-earth. When I heard the news, I flashed back to July 18, 1997, a great night of boxing in Las Vegas. The headline attraction pitted Johnny Tapia against Danny Romero. Bob Arum promoted Tapia. Cedric Kushner had Romero. Twenty days earlier, Evander Holyfield gave Mike Tyson an earful at the MGM Grand. The mood in the aftermath of the "bite fight" was ugly. I could sense it and got the hell out of there before the casino pit turned into a war zone. Tapia-Romero, an advance sellout, was headed to the Las Vegas Hilton, but the Hilton got cold feet after the Tyson-Holyfield mess and cut the cord. Lying with a straight face, a Hilton spokesman said that they were compelled to cancel the event because Arum hadn't provided a certificate of insurance before the required deadline. Arum and Kushner salvaged the show by moving it up the street to the basketball arena on the UNLV campus. I well remember a steamed-up Arum calling for a boycott of Hilton hotels at the pre-fight press conference as Kushner, seated with the Romero team on the dais, looked on with a bemused expression. I also remember all the buses sitting outside the arena. Those buses traveled nearly 600 miles. They came from Albuquerque, the hometown of both Tapia and Romero. At big boxing shows in Las Vegas, the executive airport is bustling with people arriving in private planes. This was a blue-collar crowd; an exuberant crowd but very well-behaved. There wasn't a single incident. The Hilton looked stupid. Johnny Tapia won the Battle of Albuquerque and unified the 115-pound title by a unanimous decision in an entertaining fight. There was a big upset in the main supporting bout when Baby Jake Matlala defeated Michael Carbajal (TKO 9). In boxing, perhaps more than any other sport, we are blind to the importance of events that unfold before our very eyes. Matlala's victory attracted little mention in the U.S., but it thrust Baby Jake -- all 4-foot-10 of him -- into a national hero in his native South Africa. That was a great night of boxing, but as I googled around this morning, re-visiting the event to corroborate my memories, I was struck with an overwhelming sense of sadness. The third man in the ring for Tapia-Romero was Mitch Halpern. At age thirty, Halpern was already recognized as one of the best referees in the world. Three years later he was dead. No one had any inkling that he was troubled in a way that would lead him to take his own life. The mercurial Tapia was 45-years-old when he left us in 2012. The official cause of death was a heart attack, but his life story was one big extenuating circumstance. Jake Matlala died of pneumonia at age fifty-one in December of 2013. His death came two days after the death of one of his biggest fans, Nelson Mandela. They say that Michael Carbajal isn't doing so well and now Cedric is gone too. May he rest in peace.
Great stuff, Arnie. Yeh, the death of Ced made a lot of us step back, take a deep breath and think about a lot of things. I received a call today from a friend of promoter Lou DiBella. Big Lou is putting together a dinner in a few weeks to honor the memory of Kushner. Included will be a few of his boxing friends. I will be honored to go. I heard that Michael Carbajal was not doing well. He's another one of the truly good guys. I walked into the house just a few minutes ago. As I pulled up to the house, a song was playing on the radio. It was Billy Joel's "Only the Good Die Young." How true. How sadly true. -Randy G.


-Radam G :

Great stuff, Arnie. Yeh, the death of Ced made a lot of us step back, take a deep breath and think about a lot of things. I received a call today from a friend of promoter Lou DiBella. Big Lou is putting together a dinner in a few weeks to honor the memory of Kushner. Included will be a few of his boxing friends. I will be honored to go. I heard that Michael Carbajal was not doing well. He's another one of the truly good guys. I walked into the house just a few minutes ago. As I pulled up to the house, a song was playing on the radio. It was Billy Joel's "Only the Good Die Young." How true. How sadly true. -Randy G.

->http://m.YouTube.com/watch?v=NJBoHa3GArA. Holla!