COMING SOON TO A THEATER NEAR YOU...THE BOBBY CZYZ STORY, PART ONE OF THREE: FAMILY TIFFS AND TRAGEDY

By Michael Swann

Unbeknownst to most, the life of three-time world titlist and broadcaster Bobby Czyz has all the elements of an award winning major motion picture. It has elements of pathos and tragedy, incredible personal triumphs by a flawed protagonist, violent physical and mental abuse, riches and rejection, boy meets girl, and self destruction. You might actually see it on the big screen some day. Three times there has been a signed contract to film a Czyz bio-pic, once with Universal, and twice with Independents.

In 2005, writer Greg Smith wrote a comprehensive account of Czyz’ life and career, possibly the best of its kind. His work and the author himself were invaluable resources in our pursuit of the real Bobby Czyz. Smith knows his subject well; to this day the two men trade emails frequently and chat on the phone.

We also held four rather extended interviews with Czyz, the only champion to be a member of Mensa, the largest organization for people with superior intellectual capacity. Czyz seemingly bared his soul in every aspect of his life, yet the writer’s sixth sense always held this nagging feeling that his subject was always holding back just a little, his own bullish refusal to concede defeat, either a residue of old childhood wounds or perhaps the remaining competitive defiance of a world class athlete. In any event, few subjects are as willing to open their lives as Czyz has in this interview. He makes no pretense of nobility and makes no apologies for being Bobby Czyz.

“The people who were sent the original script thought it was too violent,” Bobby said of his movie. “And it wasn’t even 100% of the violence in my house. It wasn’t all the things my father did to me, my brothers, and my mother. It was toned down and even that was too much. It’s not a boxing movie. It just so happens that I chose boxing as my path. It’s the story of survival within a family of extreme dysfunction and vicious abuse.

“The single most important reason for my story being told for me was I wanted one single concept understood. Throughout recent history Psychologists and Psychiatrists all talk about murderers, rapists and serial killers being abused as children. Well, you know what? I was physically and emotionally abused almost every day of my life for 20 years and I made a decision not to do that to my family and make myself better. I think the bottom line is you make a decision and once you make that decision you do what is correct.”

Czyz was born on February 10, 1962 in Orange, New Jersey, to teen parents who had dropped out of high school. Once a member of a street gang who did time at the Jamesburg reformatory, his father, Robert Czyz Sr., got his GED, and his mother, Louise, had three children to raise before the age of 20.

“I was baptized Catholic,” Bobby said. “My father turned atheist when I was four. All I remember was being an atheist. Now when he died my mother was Catholic. She wouldn’t say it before because he would kill her.

“My father was probably the single most vicious human being - he makes Hitler look like a choir boy, and my mother makes Mother Teresa look like Hitler.

“I didn’t understand that I would go in the ground and never see anyone again. So I used to cry myself to sleep at night every once in a while, it was so hurtful. If I cried at night before my father came in he would slap the crap out of me. My father used to open handed break your jaw. The last time he did it was July 1969. He cracked me so hard he separated my jaw. He said, ‘I told you, the only way you can live forever is through your family or be something special. So stop the crying.’”

At the age of 10, the school system of East Orange called in Bobby’s parents to advise them that he was far advanced from his fellow classmates, some who had problems even in reading, and recommended that they relocate to increase his intellectual potential. The family moved to Wanaque, New Jersey, a lower middle class area with a good educational system.

Bobby engaged in football, baseball and basketball at school, but said that, “I played well in all of those, but I let it all go. My dad sort of made me let it go just to box. I boxed from [ages] 10-15, my brothers were nine and seven and he made us fight for five years. After five years he said we could quit. My brothers quit.”

Czyz was an honor student, accepted to Rutgers, Arizona State, and Seton Hall. He was also offered an appointment to West Point in four partial payment scholarships. Bobby had to excel. To bring home a “B” might result in a beating.

You have to wonder why such an intelligent, articulate young man would forgo higher education for boxing.

“I was a straight “A” student,” he begins. “I didn’t know back then that I was Mensa material. I didn’t know what a Mensa was. I didn’t try out for Mensa until 1993 when I was 31 years old.

“When I was 15 I was so acclimated to boxing that I was sparring with grown men, 24, 25, 26 years old. Many times I was 147 pounds fighting men 155-160. At the time they were making good money fighting, or what I thought was good money, $6000-$7000 a fight. To me $10,000 was a fortune. I’m boxing these guys getting them ready for a fight and I’m handing them their head. They’re not sparring with me; they’re fighting to stay alive. When they got off their Sunday punch, I would just say, ‘Nice shot.’ I didn’t mind getting hit. When I did get hit, nothing happened.

“I don’t want to die. My name and accomplishments are in history books for eternity. I’m immortal.”

Bobby was told that if he turned pro he could be a star. For a young man who wanted to live forever by becoming something special, it was an alluring prospect.

“I busted people up pretty bad, pretty quickly,” Czyz explained. “I liked the way it felt and I told my father, ‘I want to turn pro, let me give this a shot.’”

As an amateur Bobby had been chosen to be part of the U.S. team that went to Poland in early 1980, the year of the U.S. boycott of the Moscow Olympics. He received a broken nose in an automobile accident a week before the team departed and was unable to accompany the team. Every member of the team perished when the Polish airline crashed en route to the competition.

In a bizarre twist of fate, Bobby’s injury spared his life. His mother thought that he was spared by God. Hearing that, Bobby’s father beat her.

Czyz turned pro in April 1980 at the age of 18 and began to gain the attention of fans and boxing insiders through his determination and perseverance. After winning 11 straight fights he became a part of “Tomorrow’s Champions” on NBC, and was widely seen on ESPN as well, earning the nickname “Matinee Idol.”

He became a legitimate contender before his 20th birthday when he defeated Robbie Sims, middleweight champion Marvin Hagler’s half brother, in January 1982 by unanimous decision raising his record to 17-0 (12). Three knockouts later he was ranked in the Top 10, moving closer to a title shot when he was matched with the rugged Mustafa Hamsho in November 1982.

Hamsho had lost to Hagler in October 1981 but he was still a top contender, a formidable opponent for anyone with a record of 34-2-2. It was a risky fight for a 20 year old prospect.

Lou Duva was Bobby’s manager. He offered Czyz $125,000 to face Hamsho. Bobby rejected it and Lou came back with a counter offer of $175,000. According to Smith’s article, Bobby felt that the counter offer came too quickly and conveniently and he was suspicious that the money was there all along.

Hamsho beat Czyz by a 10 round unanimous decision. Bobby broke his right hand in the second round and the experienced Hamsho was simply better at that point in their respective careers.

Czyz underwent a bone graft to repair his right hand and was in a cast for 10 weeks. As Smith wrote, Bobby and his father had worked hard together over the years, and a strong bond existed between the two. Bobby’s father, seated at ringside, was one of the first people to enter the ring after his fights and they almost always embraced. Yet Bobby also saw boxing as the key to asserting his independence and get away from his father’s negative traits. But as Bobby became more prominent and his purses grew larger, his father sought more control over the relationship.

“The bottom line is that my father was a vicious disciplinarian,” Bobby said. “I was afraid of heights as a kid. He wanted me to climb a tree that was 35-40 feet tall. I was afraid. He said, ‘Climb that tree or I’ll break your ass.’ I climbed the tree to the top. He asked, ‘Who won, you or the tree?’ I said, ‘I did Dad.’ He said, ‘You know why? You’re more afraid of me than the tree. Now climb out of that tree.’

“You know what? I built a tree house in that tree. I jump out of planes now. Fear was the only motivator.”

The senior Czyz had self educated himself since his turbulent youth, and had become a District Sales Manager for the National Telephone Directory. He had worked with Bobby through his amateur years to his early professional success. Yet Bobby was conflicted about their relationship - there was love, but also repressed anger. Bobby saw his father as both a genius and an alcoholic sociopath.

“I know my father was an alcoholic,” Bobby said. “He never drank before five o’clock but he drank everyday after five o’clock. He was a functioning alcoholic.”

In those months of the first half of 1983, it was all coming to a head - Robert Sr. saw Bobby making his own decisions and becoming his own man.

Then one day Bobby’s father told him that he had thrown one of his brothers out of the house. Bobby challenged Senior and it escalated into a full scale heated verbal confrontation. Senior told Bobby that he was nothing without him and without him he would fall flat on his face. Bobby retorted that, although he had benefited from his father’s efforts, he would go forward without him.

Smith quotes Bobby as saying, “Tell you what. Keep all the money…Keep everything. Tomorrow you’re dead to me…I have no father.”

Bobby left the house. His father ignored him when he returned, staring blankly at the TV. Bobby tried to apologize but his father refused to acknowledge him.

Bobby went to bed and Robert Czyz Sr. shot himself to death. Bobby discovered the body the next morning, and suffered with nightmares of the horrific sight for years.

Bobby, only 21 himself, had to answer his five year old sister, Maria, when she asked, “Was Daddy a bad man?”

Bobby told her no, and not to discuss it out of the house. He practically raised her after that.

Today Bobby thinks that he has come to understand the event.

“I’ll tell you what I came up with many, many years after the fact,” he explained. “I think at that time my father was losing control of himself and he was afraid of hurting me or someone in the family. Rather than hurt us, he took himself out. Instead of the ultimate cop-out, it was the ultimate gesture of love.”

His right hand healed and his psyche still wounded, Bobby made his comeback in September 1983 against Bert Lee. Prior to the fight, a reporter asked him what he would miss most about his father.

“I said… excuse me,” Bobby paused a moment, still emotional to this day. “After the fight I got hit with that wicked hug. And my very next fight I fought Bert Lee and knocked him out in the second round. The bell sounded, I turned around, and my mother hit me with the very same thing, the hug. And the thing is, before my father died my mother was never allowed to go to my fights.”

Part Two of our story will be here on Thursday. Contact Michael Swann at mswann4@aol.com.