America at Large: Three weeks ago, as Kevin McBride was wrapping up his training for what would prove to be a life-altering encounter with Mike Tyson in Washington, his handlers invited the New England media to the South Boston Boxing Club to watch the Clones Colossus engage in his final sparring session.
Half a dozen television camera crews bustled around the gym interviewing everyone in sight - McBride, his sparring partner Terrence Lewis, trainers Goody Petronelli and Packy Collins, and even the Irish pub owners whose names would adorn McBride's trunks at the MCI Center. The best I could tell, not one of them bothered to talk to Tony DeMarco, who knew more about boxing than the other 100 in the room put together.
Half a century has elapsed since DeMarco was the welterweight champion of the world, though his reign was brief - he won his title by stopping Johnny Saxton in April of 1955, and lost it less than three months later in the first of two brutal encounters with Carmen Basilio.
You'd think a Boston-born kid from the Italian ghetto known as the North End winning a world title at the old Boston Garden, just a few blocks from his old neighbourhood, would be a magical moment forever frozen in time, but as Tony sat undisturbed in a corner, watching McBride go through his paces, it occurred to me that to this new generation of sports " journalists" he might as well have been some Civil War relic.
Less than a month later, a few of them might now recognise him on the street. Tuesday night the New England Sports Museum took over the FleetCenter, the gargantuan new arena that sprang up in the footprint of the old Garden 10 years ago, for an annual ceremony called "The Tradition", in which half a dozen sporting luminaries of yesteryear are honoured.
In addition to DeMarco, this year's class of "Legacy" award winners included one-time Boston Celtics great Bob Cousy, retired New England Patriots linebacker Andre Tippett, pioneer female sports broadcaster Lesley Visser, the ownership of the World Champion Red Sox, one-time Boston Bruin Terry O'Reilly, and a quartet of former Boston University players - Mike Eruzione, Jim Craig, Dave Silk, and Jack O'Callaghan - who 25 years ago formed the nucleus of the US ice hockey team that defeated the mighty Russians and captured a gold medal at the Lake Placid Games, an occasion still celebrated as "The Miracle on Ice".
I was invited to make the presentation to Tony DeMarco, and the first thing I had to point out was that his name wasn't Tony DeMarco. For the first 15 years of his life he answered to his given name, Leonardo Liotta. The change was born of necessity when he decided to become a boxer.
Under Massachusetts law back then, a boy had to be 18 years old to obtain even an amateur licence. 'Nardo Liotta was 15, so he borrowed a birth certificate from a friend, Tony DeMarco.
He would fight under that nom de guerre for the rest of his life, but the ruse produced a trickle-down effect, because as he watched the faux Tony punch his way through the ranks, the original Tony DeMarco decided he'd like to try his hand at this boxing stuff, too.
"Well, you can't use that name," Tony told Tony. "It's mine now." So the real Tony DeMarco appropriated the papers of Mikey Cermino and fought under his name.
Mikey Cermino was already a boxer, but not under that name. When he'd decided to enlist in the pugilistic ranks he had faced the same problem Leonardo Liotta had, so he'd borrowed the birth certificate of his elder brother Sal.
They were three kids from the same North End corner, not one of them fighting under his real name. "Sal Cermino" was really Mikey Cermino, "Mike Cermino" was really Tony DeMarco, and "Tony DeMarco" was really Leonardo Liotta. It could have led to some severely mixed loyalties around the North End had they ever met in the ring.
"The three of us sparred together all the time," Tony told me recently. "But fortunately, we never had to fight each other."
In an age when there were only eight world champions in eight weight classes, Tony DeMarco, a kid who'd grown up just a few blocks away, became the welterweight champion of the whole, wide world - in a ring just a few steps from where he was honoured on Tuesday night.
This has been a year of Golden Jubilees for DeMarco. Two months ago he celebrated the 50th anniversary of his TKO of Johnny Saxton for the title, and earlier this month in upstate New York, they celebrated the 50th anniversary of the passing of the torch - a savage, 12-round affair that saw Basilio end Tony's 71-day reign as king of the 147-pounders.
This September will mark the 50th anniversary of a fight that for our money may have been the best of them all, a blood-and-guts bout at the Boston Garden in which Tony was leading by 3, 3, and 7 points on the judges' scorecards when kayoed by Basilio in the 12th.
There is irony in the fact DeMarco is primarily celebrated not for his title, but as the runner-up in two of the great fights of the 20th Century.
"People talk to me about those fights every day, but they rarely mention any of the others," said Tony. "Everybody knows I fought Basilio twice and that I beat Saxton for the title, but I had 71 pro fights and fought eight world champions."
In his acceptance speech, he took pride in noting, "I had my first fight in the Boston Garden, I won the title in the Boston Garden, and I had my last fight in the Boston Garden."
Now 73, Tony continues to live near his boyhood haunts, in the very shadow of the arena in which he was honoured on Tuesday night.
"I figure it's a good idea to live nearby," said Tony. "You never know. Some night they might need a substitute."
