clarinews@clarinet.com (FRED LIEF, UPI Assistant Sports Editor) (01/16/90)
ATLANTIC CITY, N.J. (UPI) -- After all the talk of comebacks and new beginnings, Gerry Cooney was reduced to this Monday night: flat on his back and staring into the flashlight of the ringside physician. ``I caught him with a couple of shots in the first round,'' Cooney said from the middle of the ring 15 minutes later. ``I just wish it would have come out different.'' George Foreman, with a meat cleaver right hand, knocked Cooney into retirement at 1:57 of the second round in a bout that had more to do with circus trappings than serious boxing. After all, Cooney had not fought in more than 2 1-2 years. He had battled drugs and drinking. He fought with his manager. He was unhappy with family pressure. In short, he said, he was miserable. So he came back to the ring, lured by a $1 million payday and the hope of a new start. His trainer, Gil Clancy, said he didn't think the layoff would hurt hs fighter. ``Once he dives in the water, he'll start to swim and be OK,'' Clancy had said. Cooney jumped into the pool but landed on a slab of concrete. For the first round, he seemed in command. The left hand, for years his trademark, was working. He caught the 42-year-old former champion with jabs, puffing Foreman's cheeks. But the second round was another matter altogether. Cooney, it appeared, had one round to offer and nothing more. ``He seemed to have things under control,'' Clancy said. ``But then Foreman threw that first bomb.'' Halfway through the round, all 253 1/4 pounds of Foreman moved in. He unloaded three clubbing right hands and a couple of lefts that sent Cooney to the canvas. At the four count, Cooney was up, but not for long. Foreman jolted him with a left and said goodbye with a right that finished him off. Cooney began to sway, then toppled. Foreman might as well have yelled timber. Cooney lay on his back, unmoving. The referee ripped the mouthpiece from him. The ringside physician, Dr. Frank Doggett, hovered over him, a flashlight in the fighter's eyes. Cooney still didn't move, and for a few uneasy moments it appeared that this fight -- ``The Two Geezers at Caesars'' -- would have less to do with comedy than tragedy. But Cooney raised his head, got to his feet and walked to his corner. He sat on a stool while Clancy cut the tape from his hands. ``There's nothing to be ashamed of,'' Clancy told him. ``You hurt him. There's nothing to be sorry for.'' Fans called Cooney's name. Cooney gave them that crooked smile and raised his hands, as if to say there was nothing he could do. A television interviewer led Clancy to the other side of the ring. The trainer talked of Foreman's strength and said Mike Tyson will have a fight on his hands if he takes him on. ``He must've thrown five bombs right on the money,'' Clancy said. ``I think people will have to take George Foreman seriously.'' Then Cooney talked into the microphone, announcing he was through with boxing. ``That's it for me,'' he said. ``I gave it a shot. I trained hard, but that's it.'' Cooney returned to his corner and stepped through the ropes. The New York fans at the Convention Hall said he still belonged to Long Island. A woman said she loved him. A man man gave him a bear hug. Cooney just kept on smiling. Cooney said before the fight there are other things he wants to do besides box. He said he wants to go on a safari in Africa. Gerry Cooney now gets his chance in a jungle of another sort.