I had the idea of following a promising young fighter. A flashy young middleweight named Willie Munoz caught my eye. I hoped he would develop into an outstanding fighter and I could trace his progress in a magazine article. March 11: The Fascination of a Comer I first saw Willie Munoz about three years ago in White Plains. A beautiful fighter. Nice stand-up puncher, good jab, crisp right hand. All the moves. Clean. And a good-looking boy. So neat and clean-cut, you might-if you were so inclined-call him the All-Puerto Rican Boy. I tabbed him as a future champion. I've tried to keep track of his career, doing a few pieces on him, watching some of his fights.He's a nice kid, though not overly friendly. And the fact that somebody would do some 800-word columns on him so early in his career didn't seem to impress him particularly. There was almost the feeling he expected this kind of thing because he knew he was good.
He's 23 now with a wife and baby, and he's come along fine, not losing, getting a draw against Miguel Barreto in Puerto Rico that he didn't like, but then coming up with a big victory, beating Percy Pugh his last time out. So he was undefeated last night as he went against another undefeted middleweight, David Melendez-also Puerto Rican, also from the Bronx, but not nearly a classic stand-up fighter like Munoz. I hadn't seen Munoz for almost a year, but he still was the same good-looking, crisp puncher, still the All-Puerto Rican Boy. "He is something to watch isn't he," a neighbor said during the first round. After a slow start in which Melendez seemed to show a lot of respect for Munoz' punching ability, Melendez started to carry the fight to Munoz. Melendez,smaller, kept boring in, throwing overhand rights. Some landed, but Munoz started a pattern of clipping Melendez with short left jabs and rights. In the third round Melendez opened up a cut on Munoz, left cheek. Cuts are a part of boxing; this one seemed like a damned shame, though, because it probably was the first time Munoz ever was cut. The cut marred his clean features and it brought home to me for the umpteenth time how hard it is to be a fighter. I might able to withstand a lot of pain, but I think I would quit in a moment if my face were opened up. Melendez kept coming in, throwing overhand rights. The rights were harder in intent if not as effective as the short jabs and right hands with which Munoz peppered him, yet that intent seemed to carry weight with the crowd. The rooting for Melendez picked up in tempo through the middle rounds, and it got worse for Munoz when he also started bleeding from the right nostril. In the 10th Munoz put more juice into his effort. He accentuated his actions and came off looking like a dancing master at times. His jabs and right hands were sharper; he moved out of Melendez' range more quickly. It was a nice way to finish off a victory--if it was a victory. There wouldn't have been any doubt about it if Munoz had fought like that throughout. The officials, who had no rooting interest, handed Munoz his first defeat. Judge Joe Eppy had it for Melendez, 6-3-1, referee Tony Perez had it 5-4-1 for Melendez, and judge Frank Forbes had it a 4-4-2 draw. I had it 6-2-2 for Munoz. Afterward, Munoz stood in a corner looking downcast. In the locker room he sat on a bench and kept his eyes down, allowing himself to be ministered to by his handlers. One of them was his cousin, former lightweight champion Carlos Ortiz, who said,"Losing isn't the end of the world." Trainer Teddy Bentham cursed the judges. Friends came in and echoed what a dirty deal it was. It's always like that for losers. Then Bentham said to me, "How did youhave it?" "I had Munoz ahead," I said uncomfortably. I don't like to be asked this because if I truly think a fighter was beaten, I don't know how to lie or evade the question, yet a loser's dressing room isn't always quite the place for honesty. Even though I thought Munoz won, I felt he hadn't fought as well as he should have. "Some of the other reporters at ringside thought Melendez won," I added hesitantly. Bentham looked me with a hint of disgust, I thought. . The fighter didn't seem disturbed by the cut-which would need some stitches-only the decision. "He wasn't too hard to solve," he said. "I was outscoring him. All right, he was tough, but I was pin-pointing my shots and I was doing what I wanted with him." He sat with his arms crossed replaying the fight and the judging in his mind, unable to put the two together. Then he looked at me and said, "How did you have it?" "I had you ahead," I said. But I had to add, "Some of the other reporters agreed with the judges." I felt like a heel for not being as upset as his friends were.
It didn't work out. Munoz didn't truly have the stomach for fighting. Nor was the chemistry between us good enough to encourage an intimate relationship. He dropped out of boxing not long after this column and I lost track of him. Randy Sandy, a fighter, once said that the reason fighters generally were such nice people is that they had the meanness knocked out of them in the ring. Dick Tiger was a nice person.
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Noise from the Griffiths Is Sweet Song to Emile 
