The fight for Beijing

HOUSTON — Lathered in sweat, Gary Russell Jr. glistened beneath the lights that shined down on the boxing ring at George R. Brown Convention Center, basking in the moment.

Beneath his feet, printed on the royal blue canvas, were the stars and stripes. Around his neck, from a red, white and blue ribbon, hung a gold medal.

Attached to his name: U.S. Olympic boxer.

At last, Russell had achieved his lifelong dream of earning a spot on the team by winning the 119-pound (bantam) class at the 2007 U.S. Olympic Team Trials, which ended Aug. 26 in Houston.

“It feels good,” the 19-year-old D.C. native said minutes after beating Dallas’ Roberto Marroquin. “My ultimate goal in life is to bring my family happiness, bring God happiness and bring financial stability to my family, and this is a step toward that. My goal was to be an Olympian, and my goal is accomplished. Now my goal is to medal at the Olympics.”

As the 5-foot-5 Russell continued fielding questions from reporters and posed for pictures, his father and coach, Gary Russell Sr., watched from a distance.

“I’m really proud. It’s hard to articulate, to put into words, how I feel,” a misty-eyed Russell Sr. said. “It’s been a long, long road. But I never doubted.”

That road began three years ago. After nine dominant years in the youth ranks, Russell Jr. entered the open division so he could vie for an Olympic bid.

In 2005, he captured a national title and placed third at the world championships in Moscow. Then last fall Russell won his second national title, going undefeated at the National Police Athletic League tournament.

But Russell — who boasts a mix of speed and power rare for a lighter weight boxer — broke both hands en route to his PAL title and had to take two months off from training. He reinjured his right hand at the U.S. Championships in Colorado Springs, Colo., in June and withdrew from the tournament after one fight.

Russell rested his right hand all summer so it could heal for the Olympic trials.

In his first fight at the trials, Russell drew Marroquin, whom he had defeated handily to win the PAL crown.

But after jumping out to an 8-2 first-round lead, Russell fizzled and lost 18-17.

Stunned and infuriated, Russell went for a run in downtown Houston. He sprinted in the pouring rain serenaded by the rumbles of big trucks and zooms of cars.

Russell admitted rust after fighting only once this year, but he still couldn’t believe he lost.

But the elder Russell could.

“He let the pressure of the tournament get to him,” Russell Sr. said. “He got the lead, then got conservative because he was worried about giving up points. The kid came back and got him.”

The defeat — Russell’s first in the United States in eight years — sent him to the losers’ bracket, where he had to win five fights and then beat Marroquin twice to make the Olympic team.

“When you’re not used to losing, it takes a lot to lose and maintain your composure,” Russell said. “A lot of prayer: ’God, Just give me the strength.’ And surrounding myself with positive people.”

Russell purposely keeps a small circle at tournaments. There’s his father, a charismatic bear of a man who never minces words; his “mitt man,” Robert “Herb” Martin, a quiet, knowledgeable boxing man and longtime family friend; and his strength and conditioning coach Floyd Seymour, a former Olympic boxer who rigorously trains Russell two hours a day and at times serves as mediator between Russell Jr. and Russell Sr.

“After that loss we cried,” Seymour said. “Then we quickly had to refocus. I had no doubts about his endurance and conditioning. It was mental.”

Russell took a step toward redemption with a 25-7 win in his next fight. Then he won in a walkover when his scheduled opponent withdrew. In his fourth fight he dominated Sergio Peroles with a 20-point win.

Opposing coaches and fighters congratulated Russell, but the boxer remained surly.

“A win’s great, but I ain’t gonna be satisfied ’til I fight [Marroquin] again,” Russell said.

Russell walked to his hotel room and began focusing on his next challenge — the scale. Because he weighed 122.6 pounds at the time and had to weigh in at 119 pounds at 7 the next morning, Russell had no time to relax. He retreated to his hotel room for dinner — a yogurt pop — before going on another run.

“Who turned my crunk music off?” Russell inquired as he stepped through the door of his seventh-floor room. “Someone turned off my crunk music.”

Russell turned on his entertainment system and scrolled through the mix CD’s songs. Selecting track No. 17, he grinned for the first time all night and nodded.

“This is my song,” he said, hitting play. “In the gym, they say I’m a machine, not a man, because of this song.”

Kanye West’s “Stronger” poured from the TV’s speakers. Russell increased the volume, then crashed onto his bed.

Nah-nah, now, that don’t kill me /

Can only make me stronger

“I knew God wasn’t gonna make this easy for me,” Russell yelled above the music, ripping his shirt off. “My faith was never shaken. The thing is faith is believing in something you can’t see.”

I need you to hurry up now /

’Cause I can’t wait much longer

“I got a lot of people praying for me,” Russell continued. “But God don’t make it easy for ya. It’s hard to figure how that Man works. He makes you have to work hard. He’ll put you in the position, but you’ve gotta take the steps to get there.”

Russell made weight the next morning, but the struggles inside the ring returned. A tentative-looking Russell trailed Ronny Rios — who won the bantamweight title in Colorado after Russell withdrew — for three rounds before rebounding to win 22-19. But a second lackluster performance irked Russell’s coaches.

“You weren’t listening,” Russell Sr. yelled. “You’re brain-locked. Not listening to your corner!”

The boxer and his three coaches slipped out a backdoor onto the concrete loading dock behind the convention center to rehash the close call.

Pulling out a Newport, striking a match and lighting his cigarette, Russell Sr. resumed his rant.

“He was trying to get points instead of hurting the man,” he said, taking a drag. “Son, you’ve gotta take chances. Listen. I’m not gonna tell you anything wrong.”

While Russell Sr. tried earnestly to get through to his son, Martin stood back.

“He got it, but he’s still not flowing,” he said, adjusting his black Yankees cap. “It’s not physical. But he’s still not flowing.”

Meanwhile, Russell Sr.’s sermon continued.

“You’ve gotta fight like you do at home, G,” he yelled above the noise of the traffic on the busy streets below.

“At home, with 20-ounce gloves, you be breaking 142-pound bamas’ ribs,” the father cried, leaning over to catch the gaze of his son, who stared at the ground while nodding. “Here? You got 10-ounce gloves, and you’re respecting these bamas. No respect! If God wants you to win this, then do what you’ve gotta do. Don’t compromise your chances because you’re worried about the scoring!”

Russell nodded in agreement, then trudged off to his room.

“A win’s a win, know what I’m sayin’?” Russell mumbled as he walked to his hotel, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled low over his eyes. “It’s difficult not to think about points. Anytime he touches you, you’re like, ’Dang, that’s another point.’

“What matters is I won and I face [Marroquin] tomorrow. I need a lot of clean punches. Tomorrow I’m gonna throw more power. I wanna knock him out.”

Another sleepless night preceded the championship round.

Russell Sr. arrived at the convention center before his son and went out the backdoor to have a nerve-calming cigarette.

“I didn’t have much talk for him today,” the father said. “He knows what’s at stake, what he’s gotta do.”

Russell Sr. went back inside to find his son sitting in a backstage chair, feet elevated on another seat, hands taped, hood pulled low and lips moving, uttering silent prayers.

Minutes later Russell went to work on Marroquin.

He knocked Marroquin down once, bloodied his nose, busted his lip, blackened his left eye and won 25-13 in four rounds.

“I can’t let him take this from me. This is my dream,” Russell said, stone-faced. “I never had a dream of being a pro fighter. I had a dream of being an Olympic champion. My mission’s not accomplished yet. It’s not over ’til tomorrow.”

Meanwhile, Marroquin was rattled.

“Today was one of those days I didn’t feel the same,” the 5-foot-7 18-year-old said. “He didn’t expect me to come out like I did on Monday. He was ready today. It’s a little intimidating [fighting him], but I’ve got national titles, and I’ve got big wins. I can’t let that get in my head tomorrow.”

That night and the wee hours of the next morning dragged on for what seemed like an eternity for the Russell camp.

“Sleep? Not at all,” his father said, while working on his customary prefight cigarette. “I just laid in bed, thinking, praying. I don’t think God would bring him all this way to leave him. But Gary’s gotta do it. Nothing drops in your lap.”

After sitting in silence for a while, Russell Jr. walked passed Marroquin to get his gloves. On his way back, he glanced at the challenger hitting his trainer’s mitts.

Jab. Hook. Jab. Hook. Jab. Hook.

Russell shook his hooded head slightly after passing Marroquin.

“All that [stuff] right there ain’t workin’,” he said.

And he was right. Russell led the final fight from start to finish, winning 18-14.

Russell became only the fourth boxer in U.S. team history to lose in the opening round and rebound to win his weight class. He joins Evander Holyfield, Roy Jones Jr. and Floyd Mayweather Jr. in accomplishing the feat.

With his spot on the Olympic team secured, Russell will turn his attention to training for the World Games, which take place in Chicago in October. Boxers must finish among the top eight of their respective weight classes to compete at the Beijing Olympics in August 2008.

Russell will leave his Capitol Heights home Sept. 16 and head to Colorado Springs, where he will live and train at the Olympic Training Facility with the rest of the U.S. team until Beijing.

“I’m not worried about the World Games. I expect to do fine,” said Russell, who two days later was relieved to find that his right hand felt good. “This is my dream — what I’ve been waiting all my life for.

“But right now?” Russell added with a laugh. “Now, I’m about to go get fat.”