Playboy Magazine South Africa November 2013 November 2013 | Page 80

FEATURE IT'S MACHO TIME He found out in that fight that he didn’t like getting hit. Given how Camacho had soared up to that point, just his being in a close fight, his being challenged, his being hit, in that sense it was a defeat. me and said, ‘Okay, Mama, I got a tattoo.’ I said, ‘Oh, sweet. My name?’ “He told me, ‘No, I got a unicorn.’ I asked him, ‘How the hell did you stay hard long enough for them to do it?’ I guess the tattoo guy’s wife... I don’t know what she did or how she did it.” Then there was the cocaine. Shelly didn’t like it and didn’t like Macho doing it. But she couldn’t help herself. By then she was hooked. On his beautiful body. On his blithe persona. On his generous spirit. “He’d give a stranger, some hobo, his last hundred dollars if the guy asked for it.” But most of all, Shelly was hooked on Macho’s tenderness. During one of our conversations her voice seemed to float as she described sneaking away with “Mach” for one of their long weekends. Booking a quiet hotel room. Spending the days and nights ordering room service and slow dancing naked. The tale makes Machito smile again. Melancholy this time. Lost in his own recollections. Then, “Shelly loved my dad. And I think he loved her. He just couldn’t stop himself from foolin’ around. Was his nature. Shelly would tell me, ‘I hate that motherfucker. But his heart is good and I love him.’ That was my dad. Yin and yang.” As Machito grew up, the father and son seemed to reverse roles. “Not too long ago I see him and I say, ‘Pops, let me ask you a question. How many days you been up?’ “He says, ‘Three days, goin’ on four.’ “I said, ‘Pops, you’re 50 years old. How much more time you think you can do these kinds of tricks? How much more you think you’ll be able to take before you die?’ “He told me, ‘Let me tell you something, motherfucker. I’ve done 10 days. I’m fucking strong. What you talkin’ about?’ “He still didn’t get me, didn’t get what I was trying to say. That he wasn’t a kid no more.” Silence for a while. Both of us lost in Macho memories. I break the mood. Describe for Machito some of his father’s early fights. Fights I saw, fights Machito was too young to remember. The old Felt Forum. The Sands in Atlantic City. The fast and savvy southpaw circling and jabbing, a louche and graceful predator owning the ring with his cobra quickness. Banging through Johnny Sato, Melvin Paul, Greg Coverson, good fighters all. Then, 1983, the 21-year-old Macho blasting Bazooka Limón in San Juan to win the World Boxing Council super-featherweight title. Machito and I laugh; Bazooka did have a bazooka. Macho moving up in weight to take the lightweight belt. Even beat legendary trainer Freddie Roach. All leading to the first grand showcase three years later. Macho, unbeaten in 28 fights, barely outlasting Edwin Rosario on Madison Square Garden’s big stage to retain his title. Machito shakes his head. “He got hit good in that fight. First time. Changed him, changed his style. He never thought in the ring before. Just throwin’ punches. Now he’d say, ‘Nobody knocking me out.’ ” THE TRAINER The Rosario fight. A war. Larry Merchant calling it for HBO, Mike Marley covering it for the New York Post. (Me in the second row.) Four rounds of Rosario stalking, measuring, a human drill bit. He opened the fifth with a straight right and a crushing left hook that buckled Macho’s knees. Did it again in the 11th. Macho gobsmacked. “Fought me like he’s mad at me,” he told Sports Illustrated. 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