New England Boxing Champ Bobby Tomasello

A Story about Bobby Tomasello from the viewpoint of His Father’s Best Friend.

PART 1

It was one of those cold wet winters in Northern California when all you could do was wait.
The rain came each day, drenching everything in sight, while you were held captive inside, watching and listening. You could hear it patter against the roof day and night and the chill never let go, a chill that went deep into your bones, into your Soul.
And all I could do was wait. And dream of a better time.
The basement apartment where I stayed had inadequate heat and no insulation. I hovered close to the tiny space heater, trying to absorb as much warmth as I could, but it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t shake the cold, or the loneliness.
It was dead of winter and I had been back only just a few short months from my trip to South East Asia.
That tropical humid heat we complain about so much is like a fond memory when faced with the damp everyday cold. Like the aftertaste of a coconut shake under a bamboo shade. Or the wind blowing through your hair as you hit 4th gear on your Honda motor bike, riding along the balmy coast. The hot sweat dripping over your body at mid day and the refreshing splash of a cold shower. Swaying in the hammock at sunset with a cold beer and a joint. The smile of a beautiful Thai woman. These are the memories that linger when your feet are always cold and icicles of loneliness stab at your shoulder blades.

The Millennium was not an easy transition.
The year 2000 did not bring joy and peace like I had hoped but arrived like an unwelcome guest, rudely pushing itself through my door while I still lay half asleep, groping in the dark for my shirt.
Here I was, back in the States, still waiting for my Worker’s Compensation case to settle.
I had been involved in a car crash while driving for Yellow Cab in San Francisco.
It had dragged out way too long. And now I was out of work and running out of money.
I was racking my brain to come up with something I could do while waiting for months to hear from my Lawyer. I later found out that my Attorney, Anatol Zachs, had passed away. His Son, Adam, contacted Me and informed Me that He was taking over the case at that point.
But, Here I was, sub-letting the basement apartment of a friend’s house in Anderson Springs, Lake County, completely unaware that My attorney had died and my case was on hold.
My Australian friend was planning to remodel the house. Upstairs, the tenants had a real flat, and it was their rent that paid his mortgage. The basement was a quasi-legal dwelling that he used himself in between his trips to San Francisco. We made a loose agreement that I would quietly stay there for cheap rent and watch over the place when he was out of town. It worked out good for the both of us.
But best of all, it was within a few miles of my favorite place on Earth: Harbin Hot Springs.
And so We shared the place but We hardly saw each other. In fact, we’d made it a point to keep out of each other’s way, which was fine with me, since I had a need at that time for inner contemplation. If only it wasn’t so damned cold. But better then being out in the rain.
He had a computer too. I was surfing the Internet constantly. I learned a lot about how to access information during that time. And I kept steady correspondence with certain friends by email. That was how I learned the news about Bobby. I got an email message from Steve.
Steve Furbish was one of my other rare links to the past. I’d known him since I was 9 years old, growing up outside of Boston, Mass. We went to the Henry Waite School, in North Revere, since the 3rd grade, and practiced our music when we were teen-agers during the 60’s and 70’s.
After High School, I left Boston, and relocated to the West Coast. Steve and I kept in touch, during all those years. We had recently been in the recording studio. Steve had produced a CD of his original music at Tom Eaton’s Studio and was recording one of my songs: “New Born Butter” which I had written 25 years earlier. He was now working on his 2nd CD and we had been emailing back and forth about another one of my songs he was planning to record. I hadn’t heard from him in months when, one day, while checking my email, I noticed a message from Steve. It was very short.
It read:
Tom:
Benson’s Son collapsed after a boxing match last night. He is at the hospital in a coma. I’ll let you know what happens.
Steve
I was stunned. I tried to grasp the reality of this shocking news. But for now, all I could do was wait. I knew it was bad, real bad.

Two days later I get another email from Steve:
Tom;
Benson’s Kid died in the hospital last night.
Steve.
The room began to sway. I had to sit. This didn’t seem real. I felt nauseas and anxious.
I decided to sleep it off. “Everything will look different tomorrow” I told myself.
As I sank deeper into the chair, my mind began to drift. It was like viewing a home movie, specks and flashes of All of Us as young Kids, 9, 10, 11, 12 years old, growing up in North Revere. All the short memory clips flooding in; things you would have forgotten, had not the jolt of a sudden death dislodged it from whatever secret place it was hiding.
Hatchets Mountain, The Pit, where We swam in the canals, Cliftondale Square, The railroad tracks behind My house, Ken’s Hill, Slippery Rock, Breakheart Reservation, Revere Beach, Anna Park, Rowes Quarry, The Old Bridge in North Revere.
It was truly a Wonderland.

PART 2

PART 3

I was 9 years old when I met Bobby Benson’s Father. Maybe I was 10.
The year was 1961. John F. Kennedy was the new young President. The Beatles were still unknown. Nikita Kruschev was launching space ships from Russia. Rod Serling was the T.V. host of “Twilight Zone”. “Hit the Road Jack” was the number 1 song on AM Radio.
I remember the day I was with my partner in crime, Danny. We lived in North Revere, which was right on the border between two towns: Saugus and Revere. In fact, I lived on Clifton Street, practically on the line itself, which divided the 2 towns. I grew up on the crossroads, as it were. That old Robert Johnson blues song, “Crossroads”, which the British Band, Cream, would later cover, has always been a recurrent theme through My life.
Somehow I always feel like I’m standing at the crossroads.
Anyway, on this particular day, Danny and I crossed over into Saugus.
We were on a destroy mission.
Our favorite pastime was to destroy things.
To feel the joy of rolling through someone’s hedge, or knocking out a streetlight with a rock, or spilling a gallon of purple paint on a public street, or, better still, spraying lighter fluid across the street and setting it on fire as a car approached.
Things a 9 year old boy can appreciate.
We were testosterone driven hellcats, bent on disruption.
To break it, snap it, crack it, tear it down, rip it apart, blow it up, chop it, slop it, drop it, and knock it was our purpose in life.
The crash of glass, the rumble of rocks, the smack of a stick, screech of tires and the boom of an explosion were the musical sound effects for our daily movie.
Bashing hammers, wood ripping crow bars, water filled balloon missiles, exploding fireworks, barrel busting boulders, slingshots of stealth, permanent markers to deface property, stolen pipe wrenches to open fire hydrants, garbage can lids to slam against walls, and our very own heavy heeled stomping boots to thoroughly finish the job; these and more, were our stock and trade. Whatever we couldn’t shatter, batter and splatter outright, we would fall back and deliberate for weeks on how to return and terminate the job. We were demolition derbies without cars. We were loose cannons in a house of mirrors.
And we were good at it. We were too young to be obsessed with girls but we had enough energy to take on twenty, so what could we do for an outlet? Pulverize. Annihilate. Destroy.
It was during this very important mission that we encountered Benson. He was by himself, just walking down Essex Street. We thought he looked like a cool kid who might want to join our squad so we went over and said hello: “Hi, I’m Danny.” “My name’s Tommy Nick”, I said. My real name was Nickerson, but some kid’s called me Nick. “Bobby,” he says. “Bobby Benson.” He had a look that reminded You of Anthony Quinn. Danny says: “When You think of Me, think of the Planet Mars”, Danny Meagher” “And when You think of Me, think of a nickel” I said, as I flipped a small coin.
“Well, We gotta go. See ya.”
“Yeah, O.K., see You around”.
As Danny and I shuffled down the street to continue Our reign of terror, I turned and said: ” Hey, that kid’s pretty cool. I like Him.”
“Yeah, Me too.”
Thus began a friendship that would last more then 60 years.

PART 4

STONEY

Norman “Stoney” Stone, was a prominent boxing promoter and manager based in Boston, and co-founder of the Somerville Boxing Club, where Bobby Tomasello worked out regularly. Anybody Who knew Stoney, was aware that He was a hot head. He was fiery and passionate but somewhat of a loveable rogue. Known for his brash demeanor and deep loyalty to his fighters, Stoney made a name for himself over the years as a polarizing yet influential figure in the sport. His reputation as a temperamental and outspoken manager often put him at the center of attention, both in and outside the ring. Never a dull moment with Stoney in the House.

Norman Stone is best remembered for managing John Ruiz, who became the first ever Latino heavyweight champion when he defeated Evander Holyfield in March 2001. Stone’s role in Ruiz’s success cemented his legacy in boxing, but his volatile personality often overshadowed his managerial skills. He was known for his heated exchanges with referees, opponents, and even his own team, frequently drawing criticism for His profanity fueled insults and overall hostility. He was once ejected from Madison Square Garden, during the Heavyweight Championship fight between Ruiz and Andrew Golot when He became outraged by the referee.

His fierce loyalty to His Boxers earned Him a high degree of respect at the Somerville Boxing Club. And His reputation spread as one of the most colorful characters ever to hit the Boxing scene. Stoney thought highly of Bobby and was heard saying that one day Bobby would become a “Future Champion.” “That Kid works harder then any Boxer I’ve ever known.”

During the mid 80’s, when Bobby’s Dad was still actively competing, Stoney use to come watch Him fight. This was years before Stone, Himself, would become a Trainer. Bobby Benson. as He was known, had a trainer named Gabe, Who was a close friend of Norman Stone. He would cheer on Benson, often loudly. “Let Him have it Bobby” “Nice hook!” That was Him. He didn’t hold back. Outside the ring, Bobby Sr. was battling His Own Demons. His career began to wane, due in part to on and off substance abuse and a broken marriage. More and more He focused on training His Son, Who was coming of age. They would spend hours and hours at the Somerville Gym, as well as home, with constant attention to His everyday routine, His diet, His workouts, His overall dedication to the sport. They were inseparable. Bobby really didn’t have a normal teen-age Life. No parties. No drinking. Just constant training , workouts, whatever it took to prepare Him for His entrance into Live Boxing tournaments. It was a highly unusual disciplined Life for such a young Man and He also had to make Time for school and other regular activities.

Stoney never mentioned Bobby’s eye. He officially became Bobby Tomasello’s trainer in the mid 90’s, when He turned professional. The accident occurred when Bobby was sparring at the gym and had His orbital bone cracked. It was a recurring problem. He knew Bobby was due to have surgery, which was to be paid for by His manager, Tony Cardinale. But He hardly ever brought it up because He figured it was something personal, that should be addressed by His Family. He probably felt uneasy about it and. like Me, a gut feeling it was some kind of bad omen. Years later, Stoney appeared on a Boston Podcast. He discussed His career and especially His most famous fighter, John Ruiz. There seemed to be some bad blood between the two. Stoney was proud of His accomplishments with Ruiz, bringing Him to the Heavyweight Championship Title. Yet, He also explained that They never had an actual written contract. “John made millions but He forgot Me, the Guy Who trained Him” We’ll never know what John Ruiz had to say with His side of the story. He was known to be the quiet warrior. Stoney, on the other hand, was quite verbal about His disappointment with John not honoring Their Gentleman’s agreement. Notwithstanding, It doesn’t seem fair that Stoney would not have been better compensated. The podcast then turned to other topics, like the Somerville Boxing Gym. ” A lot of Young Guys turn up at the gym and They don’t get the seriousness of what’s happening. They’re cocky and They think You can play around but when You step into that ring with somebody You can get really hurt if You don’t know what You’re doing. One of Our Kids from the gym got killed in a fight, He said with His head down. That’s all He said. He didn’t mention the Kid’s name. But I knew He was talking about Bobby.

PUBLISHERS NOTE: This story has been a work in progress. Some years back, while perusing the comments, I found one comment from Ghana, Africa which contained a link to an article about Steve Dotse, the Fighter Who was Bobby’s final opponent, before He succumbed to fatal injuries. I hope the reader will find it relevant to understanding the larger picture, about how a tragedy affects all those involved, in various ways. The following are excerpts from the excellent article, written by Fiifi Anaman and a link to the entire story.

Death by Misdaventure, Life by Adventure

Story by Fiifi Anaman (@fiifianaman) 

Fiifi Anaman tells the tall tale of Steve Dotse, a brave firefighter and prizefighter, whose meteoric rise in the latter meant he was next in line to become Ghanaian boxing royalty on the global stage…until the dark side of the sport all but consumed his legacy.

Prologue

Daniel Ayiteyfio was in a dilemma.

The Atlanta, Georgia-based boxing manager had just received a call from his matchmaker, Jim Troy, who was then based out of Boston, Massachusetts.

It was around 2pm in the afternoon of Thursday, October 19, 2000.

“Hey, so there’s this really good slot that has opened up,” Troy had told Ayiteyfio. “But there is a problem. The guy is heavy. He’s 130 (pounds), and our guy is 118. What are we going to do?”

“The guy” was American Bobby Tomasello, and “our guy” was Ghanaian Steve Dotse, whom Ayiteyfio had signed in 1998 and had been managing since then.

Boxing manager Daniel Ayiteyfio was managing his countryman, boxer Steve Dotse.

The story: Bobby Tomasello had been scheduled to fight on the night of Friday, October 20, 2001 at the Roxy in Boston — but his original opponent had gotten a last minute injury, and so the promoters had begun a frantic last-ditch search for a replacement.

Matchmaker Jim Troy had been tipped off about the search, and had immediately gotten in touch with his colleague Ayiteyfio, with whom he worked to secure fights for Atlanta-based Ghanaian boxer Steve “The Destroyer” Dotse.

So, what were Ayiteyfio and Troy going to do?

The problem wasn’t only the weight class difference — the fact that Dotse was at Bantamweight and Tomasello was further up at Junior Lightweight — but also that Dotse had fought literally just five days prior to the call.

On Saturday, October 13, 2000, Dotse had fought Marty Robbins in Stone Mountain, Georgia. Per Dotse’s standards, he normally took one or two weeks off to relax before getting back into training, and months before getting back into a fight. To fight again close to a week after a fight was unthinkable — not just by his own standard, but by every boxing standard.

But Ayiteyfio thought of the unthinkable as possible. For him, though his boxer Dotse had just come off a fight, he was confident Dotse was in shape. Again, Ayiteyfio was drawn to the fact that the Tomasello fight was going to be on television (on ESPN 2’s “Friday Night Fights”), which would be good exposure for Dotse.

Ayiteyfio thus decided to get in touch with Dotse to convince him to fight, but there was yet another problem: Dotse was nowhere to be found.

After knocking out Robbins, Dotse had gone away to celebrate with his friends, going off his manager’s radar. “I didn’t know where he was,” Ayiteyfio admitted in an interview later.

It took about six hours before Ayiteyfio finally got hold of Dotse. It was 8pm on Thursday October 19, and the fight was 23 hours and 945 miles (via flight) away.

Still, Ayiteyfio needed to convince Dotse, because he was the one whose opinion and decision on the dilemma would matter the most.

“F**k that shit,” Dotse told Ayiteyfio. “I can fight. I’ll take it!”

Dotse recalls that he told Ayiteyfio not to worry about the weight, because his walking weight at that time was around 126 to 127 pounds.

He also explained that because his last fight had not gone the full distance — he had knocked Robbins out in the third round — he didn’t feel drained of energy.

The last reason Dotse gave? The money. The Tomasello bout was offering a cool $25k for Team Dotse, alongside that juicy TV opportunity.

Dotse was sold. “That was good money!” he recalls.

Ayiteyfio immediately got in touch with Troy. “We’ll take the fight!”

Game on.

Now, how were they going to get to Boston on time for the Thursday night weigh-in?

“I said, ‘Pack your things!’” Ayiteyfio recalled telling Dotse immediately.

The duo were lucky to get the last two seats on the last flight from Atlanta to Boston that night.

Two and a half hours later, they were in Boston. The official weigh-in for the bout had been scheduled for 7pm. Ayiteyfio and Dotse arrived at 10pm, three hours late.

But the organizers, desperate to make sure all their expensive investment for the Tomasello bout wouldn’t go to waste, made a concession for Dotse and his team, allowing Dotse to step on a scale as a formality for the official paperwork.

“I stepped on the scale around 11pm,” Dotse remembers. “I weighed 128 that night.”

Ayiteyfio and Dotse then went to grab something to eat at a restaurant and went to bed.

The next morning, Dotse was up early. He went for a walk and came back to relax ahead of his big night. He recalls being calm and “doing all I had to do” to stay focused.

There was no sense of tension. No heaviness. No ominous feeling.

In the evening, a limousine pulled up to his hotel to transport his team to the arena, the Roxy.

“I went into the dressing room, got dressed up and everything,” Dotse recollects.

Despite the hurried preparations, Dotse still had reason to be confident.

At 30, he had a record of 18–3–1 (18 wins, 3 losses and 1 draw), which meant he was the more experienced fighter. Standing at 5ft 6, he also had an impressive arm reach of 71 inches.

His kit for the night, interestingly, was minus his actual trunks, which he had forgotten to pack in the rush to catch a flight to Boston.

And so for that Friday night, Steve Dotse had to improvise with basketball shorts.

But it was never going to be about who had on the correct shorts, but about who was going to get the correct results on the scorecard at the end of 10 rounds.

It was the main event of the night, scheduled for 9pm under the bright illumination of ring lights and the scrutiny of TV cameras.

When the fight started, it was clear that the weight of having fought just six days before, and of having rushed into the fight from just the night before, was having a toll on Dotse. He was only the Destroyer afterall, and not Superman.

Tomasello had the upper hand right from the first round.

This was the 25-year-old’s first 10-round bout, his “first major test” as a newspaper put it, and he was determined to make the most of it.

He was the poster boy for the organizers and the local hero of the state of Massachusetts (he’d lived all his life in Saugus, Massachusetts.), a situation that handed him support both from the establishment and from home.

This advantage reflected in how Dotse was “wrongly cast as the underdog despite having fought far superior opposition and having a great amateur pedigree” (according to veteran boxing writer Ted Sares).

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That said, Bobby “The Force” Tomasello was dynamite in his own right. He had an undefeated record of 14–0, and for most of the early rounds against Dotse, looked set to make it 15–0.

In his article “A Boxing Writer’s Reward”, Ted Sares remembers that Tomasello engaged in “fierce, head-snapping, back-and-forth exchanges” to build up an early lead against Dotse.

But Dotse, as it turned out, was only warming up to ‘destroy’, as his moniker suggested. The pendulum swung in the middle of the fight, ushering in Dotse o’clock.

“As the rounds went by, I kept wearing him out. I kept working on him, kept punching him, and kept growing stronger,” Dotse remembers.

Dotse grew so strong, with Tomasello growing so weak, that the imbalance became dangerous. As Sares described it, Tomasello “faded against the physically stronger Dotse, who came on late and meted out extremely heavy punishment”.

That heavy punishment was epitomized by a straight right hook that felled Tomasello onto the canvas in the penultimate round.

But the young boxer was not ready to let go of his unbeaten record. He chose resilience, rising to his feet, refusing to give in. “He never lost his courage,” wrote Boxing247 in a review. “He never quit.”

“The count beat him, but the referee manipulated things to allow him to make it,” Dotse claims of his first knockdown of Tomasello.

“He (Tomasello) was then 14 and 0, and they wanted him to be champion, and so the protection was there.”

The bout resumed, but for Tomasello, it was a resumption of a rout.

Yet, he still would not throw in the towel.

“His fighting heart would not allow him to quit and that may well have been his downfall,” Ted Sares observed.

It was an accurate observation, as another knockdown followed in the 10th round. “I intensified my punches and he (Tomasello) went down again,” Dotse remembers.

And it was quite the going down. Tomasello missed Dotse’s head with a right hook, and the very weight of his own missed punch sent him wobbling on his feet, his balance and consciousness all but gone.

From their corner, Bobby Covino, Tomasello’s trainer, Norman Stone, his manager, and Tomasello Snr, his father, all had to painfully watch as Dotse instinctively shoved off their boy when he (Tomasello) tried to hold on to Dotse to stay on his feet. The rest of that sequence was a heartbreaking sight: Tomasello slammed into the ropes and onto the canvas, helpless.

It looked like the final nail in the coffin, as Tomasello looked utterly drained. “The referee should have stopped the bout,” Ayiteyfio opined later.

But it wasn’t over just yet. Like the Terminator, Tomasello remained tenacious — getting back up again to finish the fight.

In the end, Dotse was sure he had won the bout. The final rounds had been so brutally one-sided that the announcement of his name as winner had become almost inevitable.

Almost.

It was indeed announced Dotse had won the fight, and his corner erupted in celebration.

But…

The two boxers were in their dressing room when they were suddenly called back for a review of the announcement.

Ayiteyfio smelled a rat, and ordered Dotse not to go back, because “nothing good was going to come out of it.”

Ted Sares: “The bout was initially scored a win for Dotse, but after some confusion it was changed to a draw when it was discovered that a judge’s scorecard had been read incorrectly.”

“The change drew a big smile on Bobby’s face,” Sares continued, “and a roar from the partisan crowd. Everything seemed fine at that point. Bobby was still undefeated.”

Dotse could not process the outcome — but what would follow would be even harder to process.

After the second announcement, Tomasello walked back to his locker room “proud, grinning and certain of his future as a prize fighter”, as reported by Boxing247.

As soon as he got to the locker room, he had a soda. Later, he told his father that he did not feel well.

Shortly afterwards, Tomasello complained of a headache to his manager Norman Stone. He then experienced a spell of nausea, compelling him to throw up.

Eventually, he collapsed. “I was yelling at him,`Bobby, don’t you fall asleep,’ …I know what happens to boxers who do. . . . Oh God. I knew. I knew.” Tomasello’s father recalled.

Tomasello was immediately rushed to the New England Medical Center, where he underwent an emergency surgery the next morning.

It would later emerge that his collapse in the locker room was actually a slip into a coma. Doctors revealed chillingly that early in the fight, Tomasello had been hit with punches that had caused his brain to shift, resulting in the rupturing of a small blood vessel which leaked for the rest of the fight, finally shutting his body down into that coma.

The surgery had been to remove a blood clot, relieve swelling, and stop the bleeding in his brain.

The revelation by the doctors made many wonder if Tomasello’s brain injury could have been detected early enough had he given up under the conspicuous pummeling by Dotse.

“The referee understandably was reluctant to stop the fight, bearing in mind that it was nearly over,” ESPN’s Graham Houston explained in a review seven years after the bout. “Those final, heavy hits from Dotse simply proved too much for a desperately tired fighter, as Tomasello was that night, to be able to make it.”

But Tomasello miraculously (and in hindsight, unfortunately) braved the odds by refusing to back down, even as blood dripped in his brain, slowly soaking up his consciousness.

As Sares observed, Tomasello “fought his heart out”, emptying himself. “Bobby kept swinging back, thus preventing the referee from halting the action.”

“You start to wonder, should I have done this, should I have done that?” said Norman Stone. “It’s too late, it’s too late. The fight went on”

Needless to say. the sporting event would have a profound effect on Steve Dotse and His career. The full story can be read in the link below :

https://www.boxinghana.com/death-by-misdaventure-life-by-adventure-2/

Youtube Documentary on Steve Dotse : Ring of Fire