`League Of Nations' Boxers Learning Craft In Dundee's New Florida Gym

FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. - Angelo Dundee talks the way his pupils fight. Sticking and moving. Picking his spots. You ask about the fights, just the ones he's been a part of, standing in the corner, closing cuts and soothing spirits.

Tell me about Ali vs. Liston, Angelo. Or maybe Ali vs. Frazier. Any of them: Ali vs. Foreman; Leonard vs. Duran; Leonard vs. Hearns; Foreman vs. Moorer.

Dundee, 73, smiles. Offers you a peppermint. Slips a personalized pen into your pocket. And tells you about his gym.

"I've always wanted my own place. I've always been an independent operator. But this is the first time I've had my own place. Beautiful, isn't it? People talk about the Fifth Street Gym. Yeah, that was something. Everybody came to the Fifth Street Gym. The Beatles came. You know that? But this is the first time I've had my own place. I've got my window, over there. Can see everything. For two hours every day, we've just got the fighters. The rest of the time, we're open to the public."

Dundee's gym is in a strip mall in Pembroke Pines. Hey, this is South Florida. Who should be surprised? The place opened in July. It's called Angelo Dundee's Training Center. And it's tucked in alongside a Weight Watchers, a Pinch-a-Penny, something called Venus Nails.

The gym is clean, bright, open. No cigars here. No Damon Runyon characters stopping by to watch the fighters. Just four heavy bags, two speed bags, a ring. And the oddest collection of boxers you could imagine.

"We got a League of Nations here. Swedish fighters. Guys from Norway, Poland, Finland, Brazil. A regular League of Nations. Just got a Japanese, a big kid, no professional fights yet. Me, I don't worry about the languages. I speak three languages: Italian, Spanish and bad English. But boxing is universal. And these kids, they've got great talent. They're 4-0, 2-0, 16-0. Every one of these kids is a talent. We don't have no sparring partners here. They're on TV all the time back home."

Television is the key. Dundee trains maybe a dozen fighters. Almost all of them are Europeans supplied by Gary Trevett, a manager and promoter based in Stockholm, Sweden. Trevett sells the television rights to their fights to a major European television network. The money supports the fighters and pays Dundee.

"The guys have a tremendous following over there," Trevett said. "But professional fighting is illegal in Sweden. So this is the only way people can watch their fights."

It's a nifty deal all around. Dundee gets a steady, paying group of fighters. The fighters learn from the best cornerman in the business, the guy who plotted Sugar Ray Leonard's stunning win over Marvin Hagler, Ali's stunning win over George Foreman and, most recently, Foreman's stunning win over Michael Moorer.

"George kept calling me. `Angelo, I got to have ya. Angelo, I got to have ya.' So I did it. I knew he could beat Moorer. George has three speeds: slow, stop and wait-a-minute. But he can punch. He sets up his punches better than when Ali beat him in Zaire.

"But George, I don't train him, I work with him. I come in the last 10 days before a fight and make him feel good. Easy job. But George is the second-worst gym fighter I've ever seen. Muhammad was the worst. I looked at him, half the time I didn't know what the hell he was doing."

Dundee can talk about champions all day long. He owns a portrait of all the champions he has trained. Ali. Willie Pastrano. Leonard. Pinklon Thomas. Michael Nunn. Dundee just sent the portrait out to add Foreman. When it returns, there will be 13 champions on the canvas.

You look at Dundee's current group of fighters and you wonder if he will have another. George Scott might be the best of the lot. He's from Liberia by way of Sweden. A silver-medal winner. Scott lost a championship fight to Jake Rodriguez in August.

"This is an excellent group of fighters," said Rick Mandris, who works with Dundee. "There isn't a weak fighter in the group. Some of them have a chance to win championships."

Still, boxing people will tell you Dundee's strength is training boxers, not finding them. He has always worked best as part of a team. In the early days, it was his brother, Chris, who found Sugar Ramos, Luis Rodriguez, Ralph Dupas, Pastrano. And then Ali found Dundee.

"I was in Louisville with Pastrano. We were staying at the Sheraton, and he calls me from the lobby. He says, `My name is Cassius Marcellus Clay, I'm the Golden Gloves Champion of Louisville. I won the Pan American Games and I'm going to win the Olympics in 1960. I want to talk to you.' I cupped my hand over the phone and said, `Willie, there's some sort of nut down there that wants to talk to us.' We told him to come on up."

Dundee still talks to Ali. But then, Dundee talks to anyone who will listen. That has always been a part of his charm. He treats everybody the same, from Ali on down.

"He makes you believe everything is possible," said Przemyslaw Saleta, a cruiserweight from Poland. "I expected a great trainer. I expected a person who knows everything about boxing. I didn't expect him to be so enthusiastic." Philipe DaCosta is a fighter from Zimbabwe who has never had a pro fight. Dundee just took him into the gym.

"It's a privilege to be here," DaCosta said. "He's the best trainer, not of our time, but of all time."

Dundee doesn't make any such claims. He says he knows his trade. He can wrap a fighter, close a cut, set up a ring. He can teach a jab, boost an ego, sway a judge. Dundee has been training fighters for 46 years. And now, settled into his airy gym in Pembroke Pines, the guy sounds content.

"To me, it's a kick. Working with fighters is a kick. Every one is like a fountain of youth, they keep me young. You just write that I'm 69 and holding.

"And now I got my own place. I'm looking for a house up here, too. My wife and I still live in North Miami Beach, but we're looking. I want to be closer.

"See, I got a great gym and a great group of fighters. It's fun. One thing about these boys, they never walk out the door without saying goodbye."