Boxer's mission packs meaningful punch

I could hear the familiar noise as I walked to the door. It’s a nondescript building, the kind you drive past daily without noticing. Yet, inside, announcing its presence with the sound of gloves popping, stood the grail of my decades-long chase. Where in the world was Buster Douglas?

His introduction to the globe was instantaneous in 1990. Nine seconds after seemingly invincible Mike Tyson dropped to the canvas in Tokyo, the 42-1 unknown underdog confidently stood and watched the result of his work. James “Buster” Douglas, a Columbus, Ohio, native who worked his craft at the Columbus Parks and Recreation gyms, had become the undisputed heavyweight boxing champion of the world.

It was a defining moment of my adolescent sports viewership, one of the handful of “I remember where I was” events. Since Evander Holyfield extinguished Douglas’ zenith a few months later, I began to wonder about the man who’d conquered the boxing world so briefly. Where on Earth did he go?

The answer was so beautiful, yet simple. Buster Douglas went back to his roots.

I listened to the replay of Buster’s knockout of Tyson last week as I navigated I-71 from the Mid-Ohio Sports Car Course into the middle of Ohio’s capital city. I thought about champions and invincibility. Scott Dixon is a five-time Mid-Ohio winner poised for a fifth Verizon IndyCar Series championship.

But if the rest of the racing field felt another Dixon win was fait accompli, they need look no further than the man I was about to meet. For one of the few times in my career, I was nervous for what would happen. The sound of the gloves echoed the announcement of my heartbeat.

I walked into the Thompson Recreation Center to find three people. A teenage girl was taping her hands before covering them with boxing gloves. A middle-aged man was taking his turn in the ring, slowly working into his cardio exercise while adhering to the commands of his instructor.

“One-two, one-two!” the coach barked out. “Left, right, left. Move your feet!”

There, behind the voice of instruction and the padding he insisted be struck by his pupil, stood the prize of my search. Twenty-eight years ago, his likeness graced the cover of every newspaper in the civilized world. On this day, only three people were seeing Buster Douglas.

“Water” was the first thing he said to me. The action was taking a break and the middle-aged man wanted a squirt of hydration from the bottles lined next to me. I obliged. Handing the bottle to Douglas, I made my introduction.

I had interviewed him recently by telephone as part of my Indianapolis radio show’s “catching up with” series. It was then that I told him I would be in Ohio for my job with the Advance Auto Parts INDYCAR Radio Network. I’d be thrilled to come to his gym, I told him, to meet him in person.

“Let’s make it happen,” he told me. And so I did.

As he squeezed water into the desert of his student’s mouth, I made my introduction. “I’m Jake. The radio guy from Indianapolis.”

“Ah,” the larger-than-life figure responded enthusiastically. “The racing guy. I told my friend you were coming. He’s a big gear head. We love the cars.”

I was in. Once again, the world of racing was the hook. I wanted to learn more about Buster Douglas. Buster Douglas wanted to know more about Mid-Ohio.

He set up shop at the Rec Center a handful of years ago. Kids come and go throughout the day. They need no appointment, they need not bring money. As long as their $1 a month fee is paid, they can work out with the champ on any day throughout the week. They must obey three rules: Respect the gym by cleaning up after themselves, respect and never discourage any peers’ lack of ability, and do not swear to Coach.

They just need to bring their hunger to learn. If a food hunger accompanies them, they tell me, Coach will always pay for lunch.

It’s a gym that reflects the humility of its director. Boxing posters and memorabilia adorn the walls, reminders of the names that have become legend in the sport. Leonard, Ali, Lewis – the pictures all hang. There are murals of inspiration for the children to see. Gandhi and MLK are painted into the scenery.

I had to look long and deep to find the moment that brought me there. Finally, on a cabinet next to the director’s desk, I see the inconspicuous recognition. A small framed photo of one of boxing’s indelible images. Buster Douglas standing over Iron Mike.

“This is full circle for me,” he told me. “I came up in these centers in 1970. Now, I just want to work with these kids.”

Every day he is there, and every day they show up, many unaware that the man they’re instructed to punch made millions doing the same to the names they know.

“It’s all about these kids,” Douglas said. “I miss them on the weekends.”

It amazed me. A man whose sport gave him anything he could want in the world, yet his world today is to give back in the same spot it started.

Racing is like that, too, which may be why Buster and his friend had an interest in what takes place each year up the interstate. Josef Newgarden, Alexander Rossi and Dixon have all answered the bell at the greatest event of their craft, but they are always eager to get back to their roots. Jumping into a karting event for charity, talking to a young fan in the paddock or simply driving with the same desire that catapulted them to the top of their very craft.

I used my travel on a work weekend to find the answer as to what gives fulfillment to one who has been crowned a champion. All the while, the answer is displayed for me each time I call a race. The athlete wants to be in the place they’ve always been most comfortable. For the drivers of the Verizon IndyCar Series, it’s behind the wheel. The wheel is their full circle.

I took a few photos with Douglas and used a phone app to send them for printing to a store seven blocks away. I asked Douglas if I could return to get them signed. “I’m here ‘til 6, my man.”

As I walked into the photo shop, the attendant knew why I was there.

“I just printed your pictures,” he said through his grin. “That’s Buster Douglas, which is awesome. Where was your vacation? I’ve always wondered where he is these days.”

As I drove back to Mid-Ohio, I realized I had something in common with the photo clerk. We both spend our work in the shadow of celebrated athletes. Athletes who simply perform for the love of their sport.

Until last week, neither of us stopped to realize it.