Judgment Day

By Robert Ecksel

THE BOXING JUDGE Joe Dwyer was born and raised in Bay Ridge. His father was a police detective who fought pro in the late 1920s. Dwyer started boxing at the age of seven at Camp St. Agnes in New Paltz, NY. He fought in the amateurs for six years and compiled a 56-2-1 (27 KOs) record. He fought in the Metros and Golden Gloves. He was middleweight champ of the Navy.

"What really drove me to the gym," Dwyer says, "was my parents were separated and I think that was an outlet for me, you know, kind of like hostility. Instead of just going punching people, I went and punched a bag."

Joe Dwyer stopped punching a bag and joined the NYPD in 1961. He was eventually given 14 citations for bravery. He also worked undercover for four years investigating organized crime.

In 1983, while still a member of the police, he was appointed an Inspector of the New York State Athletic Commission. A year later he was named NYSAC Chief Inspector. But that was about to change again.

"In 1995 we were doing a boxing show at Nassau Community College," recalls Dwyer. "There were three judges assigned, there was no alternate, and one of the judges had a disagreement and walked out and they were pretty well in a bind. So one of the commissioners at the time said: 'Joe, will you be willing to judge tonight?' And that was my baptism by fire."

After five years of judging fights, Dwyer was appointed Championship Chairman of the IBF in July 2000.

"I was asked to come in as the Championship Chairman," explains Dwyer, "because my predecessor had been indicted."

I ask Dwyer what being Championship Chairman entailed.

"I had to approve all championship bouts, whether they were for world titles or USBA or intercontinental titles. I also ordered box-offs and eliminations to get people into position for those title fights. The idea was to tighten things up," Dwyer says. "I've always been a firm believer that a fighter's job is to fight. You have managers to take care of the administrative part. Your job is to go to the gym, train and fight, and I see a very serious depletion in that in current years. It's certainly not what it was like in the old days."

In his capacity as IBF Championship Chairman, Dwyer dealt with some of boxing's heavy hitters.

"If I deal with Don King, Don King gets treated no better," asserts Dwyer, "but by the same token no worse, than a lesser promoter. And all the allegations that are made and innuendoes that are passed about, whether it's Don King or Bob Arum or whomever, that doesn't count with me. I'm starting fresh with you. Whatever dealings I have with you is how I'm going to judge you. And I had very good working rapport with Don King, as I did with Bob Arum. It was a pleasure to deal with both of them. I had communications with them at least weekly. That's how these fights got made."

The credibility of the IBF was restored when Dwyer was in town, but then the ax fell.

"On March 12 of 2003," Dwyer remembers, "I got a fax in the morning from (IBF President) Marian Muhammad. It was the letter terminating me and it started with: 'Dear Joe, I have found it increasingly difficult in the past year working with you.' Like this came out of left field! Wouldn't you say this on the phone to me?"

There were backroom deals being done with the likes of Arturo Gatti and Roy Jones Jr. Instead of fighting mandatories, according to the rules, Gatti and Jones were given a free pass to go for the gold. Dwyer thought that was contrary to his mission and said as much.

"I voiced my opinion publicly and that didn't endear me to them," he says, "because some of their best money producers were being eliminated." Dwyer continues. "So she said she wasn't renewing me as Championship Chairman. That was fine and I decided that I was not getting out of boxing—by any means. I had been asked by some people to start my own organization," he says. "Funding was available for that. I felt that at this stage of the game there were enough organizations out there and I said if the opportunity came up and I saw some place credible that's where I would go. But in the interim I would return back to judging, where I still have my independence and I know that I still retain my integrity."

Boxing is a subjective art, yet judges sometimes seem objective and artless. What is the uniform gauge by which judges score fights?

"Basically," he says, "there are standards for how a fight is supposed to be judged, based on the four primary points: (1) clean punches, (2) effective aggression, (3) defense and (4) ring generalship. I think most people understand what constitutes the criteria."

Of the four primary points for judging a fight described by Dwyer, number four—ring generalship—seems the most amorphous, so I ask the boxing judge for some clarification.

"Cutting off the ring is ring generalship if I can force you into the corner and that's where my game plan is gonna be," he says. Dwyer gives an example from his own experience. "I was not a puncher. I was an excellent boxer, but not a big puncher. When you're not a power puncher you want to avoid getting hit, so it was not at all unusual for me to throw a triple jab at you. I don't see doubles too often any more. And you've heard it repeatedly: 'Everything off the jab.' That sets up the whole game," Dwyer says. "It's like playing a trombone."

I wonder how judges are educated here at home.

"In New York," he replies, "the criteria is that (judges) graduate from the amateurs, the same with the referees. Then they're recommended to the chairman and he would select from them. You go through a trial period where you score fights when you're not salaried and they'll give them a set of scorecards along with the three judges that are working the fight. And they'll turn in their scorecards and they'll do comparisons and the commission will check and see that they're in the ballpark."

It's a test no one with two eyes and of sound mind could possibly fail.

Before leaving Dwyer, I ask if he has a philosophy of judging fights.

"I think it's really a privilege and an honor to be a judge," says Dwyer, "and going into the fight realizing how important it is for those two individuals when they walk up the steps. You don't know what's at hand for these fighters. Is it their daughter's tuition? Is it making the mortgage payment? But every fight is important to the fighter. You have to give them every benefit of fairness. You can't get caught up in the hype of a champion coming in, because once he steps in that ring he's no longer the champion. You have to remove the prejudices from your mind. We have a tendency to forget that in this business the fighters are the entertainers. These are the kids who are going to have bruises tomorrow morning."