THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, July 14, 1994 TAG: 9407140533
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C01 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY FRED KIRSCH, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 169 lines
The fight, a title bout in Israel several years ago, didn't have much action until one of the boxers unleashed a wicked shot to the midsection.
The midsection of referee Al Rothenberg.
The crowd grew quiet. After all, the little bald guy in the white shirt and bow tie had to be at least 70 years old.
``If that's as hard as this guy can hit,'' Rothenberg's voice drifted out over the ropes to where his wife, Doris, was sitting, ``we'll be out of here in another round or two.''
Irate fans, incensed managers and trainers, inept fighters without an aim - nobody has been able to put Al Rothenberg down for the count. Or leave him speechless.
Tonight, Rothenberg, who's now 76 and the self-proclaimed ``oldest ref in captivity,'' climbs through the ropes at the Peppermint Beach Club in Virginia Club to work another card.
Al has lost count how many fights this makes. ``Got to be thousands,'' he says. Included are 32 world championships bouts, the last one the April 9 Pernell ``Sweetpea'' Whitaker-Santos Cardona fight at Scope where, one veteran ringsider observed, Al ``still moves like a ballet dancer.''
It doesn't matter to Rothenberg if he's getting $65 a night for working the card at the Peppermint or raking in $1,600 for a title fight.
``I get the two in the center of the ring and I tell them I'm not being paid to officiate any wrestling match,'' he says. ``So when I give a command, obey it. Immediately. Don't make me take away any points from you because I will. Got it?''
Not too many fighters haven't since Al started reffing back in 1942, when he was in the Navy.
``We were over in the South Pacific during the Guadalcanal campaign,'' says Rothenberg, standing in the living room of the Virginia Beach condo he and Doris share. On the walls are pictures of Ali and Foreman and Sweetpea.
Rothenberg, who plays racquetball four times a week and religiously pounds the treadmill in the upstairs den, is a rock-hard 140 pounds. He takes stairs like he takes fighters - two at a time.
He works the small living room like a ring, bouncing here and there, bobbing and weaving, sticking you with a quick reply, moving you with a laugh.
``One day we got a package from the USO. Inside were four sets of boxing gloves and a bag,'' he says. ``The CO calls me in and asks if I'll arrange and ref a little boxing tournament to give the guys something to do. I drew a ring in the sand and said, `Let's go.' ''
The idea of refereeing appealed to him.
``I had done some boxing when I was in high school and then college at George Washington,'' says Rothenberg, who grew up in Washington.
``I remember being in the ring one time, getting the crap beat of me and thinking, `If I'm a college student, I should be smart enough to figure out who's the only guy in here that's not getting beat up.' I loved refereeing right from the beginning.''
But Al had some fighting of his own to take care of before he'd ref again.
Several days after the tournament, Rothenberg found himself in the Battle of Midway. Flying one of those ``big PBY Catalinas with the 105-foot wingspan,'' Rothenberg made what is described as ``a bold and courageous attack,'' to earn the Silver Star.
Several months later, Rothenberg won the Navy's highest honor - the Navy Cross - for knocking out two cruisers and rescuing 72 Americans who had been aboard a sunken destroyer and tug.
In addition, Rothenberg, who was a carrier fighter pilot, won two Distinguished Flying Crosses and three Air Medals.
``Was I thinking about being a referee after the war?'' Al asks, repeating the question, his eyes dancing. ``Hell, no. I wasn't thinking about anything but staying alive.''
ROTHENBERG BEGAN his refereeing career in earnest after the war, putting on tournaments and earning the unanimous verdict everywhere he worked: If you need a ref, get Rothenberg.
``Al is a great referee,'' says Bobby Wareing, Whitaker's trainer. ``There's never any worry when Al is in there. He controls the fight. The good refs have a way of making their presence felt without getting in the way.
``Fighters love Al. He has a good sense of humor and relates to them. He'll go in the dressing room before a fight and talk with the fighters and get to know them. When Al is in the ring, you know he'll handle any situation.''
Like the time some years ago when a fighter ``simply wouldn't fight.''
``The guy is just shuffling around the ring,'' Rothenberg says. ``So I stop the fight and show him how to fight. You know, I go into the stance and start throwing punches. `Like this. Fight like this.' ''
``He still doesn't fight. And the first time he gets hit, on the shoulder, for God's sake, he goes down. Out of the ring. If this was Olympics gymnastics, he would have gotten a 9.9 for that dive.''
Rothenberg dutifully waved the opponent to a neutral corner and then came over.
``I just looked at him. I didn't start the count 'cause he's just laying there, looking up at me. He says, `You 'posed to be counting. I said, `You 'posed to be fighting.'
``And then,'' he says, tolling over an imaginary foe in the living room, ``I counted him out.''
AL VIEWS HIS WORK in the ring much like the legendary baseball umpire Bill Klem did his on the diamond.
He never made a bad call.
``I can't honestly say I've made a bad decision,'' he says. ``Especially when it comes to stopping a fight. The most important decision a referee makes is when to stop the fight. Because you are talking about a man's safety.
``A good referee knows when that time is better than when a doctor does. But what the fans don't realize is that a referee doesn't base it on how much time is left in the fight. Doesn't matter if it's the first round or the last round, you stop the fight when it's time. One more punch can be one punch too many.
``And I don't give a damn what the crowd thinks. No matter what I do, 50 percent of them aren't going to like it, anyway. But you don't learn all that right away. It comes with a lot of experience.''
Rothenberg had probably refereed hundreds and hundreds of fights before retiring from the Navy in 1961. For a long stretch, he didn't referee, concentrating on his career as a stock broker. But in 1972, at the age of 54, he began working local amateur cards and pro cards, doing as many as seven bouts a night. If there was a fight anywhere in Virginia, it seemed Rothenberg was there.
In 1974 ,Al was invited to work the national amateur championships, and in 1984 he was one of 44 referees selected for the Olympics. He served as a timer. A year later, he reffed his first pro title fight.
Through it all, Al came close to losing his cool only once.
``I was doing a fight that involved one of Lou Duva's fighters, and Lou was in the corner,'' he says. ``Well, Lou's guy nails the other guy and drives him through the ring. I stop things to get the guy back in the ring and Lou is all over me, saying I cost his fighter a knockout.
``Well, the round ends and Lou is still after me. So I give him a few seconds to get it out of his system but he keeps going. So, I throw him. I give him the old baseball `You're out of here' sign. I got to admit, I overdid it a bit.''
``But,'' says Al, ``it was the right decision.''
ROTHENBERG HAS REFEREED basketball and football, but he says it's no contest. Boxing, far and away, is the most difficult.
``You've got two guys trying to knock each other's head off,'' he says. ``Plus, you could get killed in there. That is a big responsibility to oversee.
``And secondly, you have to control it, not just make calls. And to do it, you've got to work close. If I've got any gripe with these young fellas refereeing today, it's that they don't get close enough.''
And it's no contest on another score, too. Today's fighters might be faster and better conditioned, but they aren't the technicians the old fighters were.
``I've probably worked about 30 of Sweeptea's fights when he was an amateur and maybe five as a pro,'' says Rothenberg. ``And he's as good as they come. One of the all-time best. And there are other good ones. But overall, I'd say the older fighters were the better craftsmen. Ali would toy with the heavyweights we have now. So would Ken Norton.''
Al doesn't how many more fights he has in those bouncy legs of his. But given his condition, it doesn't look like he's ready to head for a neutral corner any time soon.
``I love it,'' he says. ``I really do. There is an excitement in boxing that's in no other sport. And when you see it on the best level, you can appreciate what a great sport boxing is.
``I know there are a lot of people who don't think highly of boxing. But there are so many things that are good about it. And we've got some great people in it.
``There'll always be a future for boxing. I just hope to be a part of it for as long as I can.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color FILE PHOTO
Al Rothenberg
FILE PHOTO
Al Rothenberg, left, goes over the rules before a fight. Rothenberg,
76, has been the third man in the ring since 1942.
KEYWORDS: PROFILE
by CNB