ROBERT SHANNON : Because He’s the Only Member of the 1984 U.S. Boxing Team Who Didn’t Win an Olympic Medal, He’s Had to Start His Pro Career the Hard Way

In the Olympic Games boxing tournament last summer, there were 345 bouts. Six months have passed, but the best of them all is still a vivid memory for those who were there.

It wasn’t Dempsey-Firpo. It wasn’t Louis-Schmeling. It wasn’t Robinson-Basilio, or any of the other memorable pro fights. But it might have been the most exciting Olympic bout ever.

It was a matchup of a couple of powerful, fearless little guys--South Korea’s Moon Sung Kil and Robert Shannon of the United States. The two bantamweights were toe to toe for almost the entire fight, about 7 1/2 minutes, and had the crowd of 9,814 standing throughout.

When it ended, with 1 minute 46 seconds left in the third round, Moon Sung Kil was the exhausted winner, sitting on a stool in his corner. Shannon was in tears, his head on U.S. coach Pat Nappi’s shoulder. It was the first American defeat in 17 Olympic bouts.

Both boxers had ignored caution and fear. Both landed savage punches. Neither backed up a step. Moon put Shannon on the deck twice, in the second and third. But after each knockdown, Shannon got up and rocked the muscular South Korean, thereby turning up the volume of the standing, roaring crowd.

It was 7 1/2 minutes of sustained excitement. In the middle of the battle, an usher remarked: “My God, can you believe these two guys?”

Afterward, Col. Don Hull, the International Amateur Boxing Assn. president who had seen every Olympic tournament since 1932, said: “This was one of the great Olympic bouts.”

As days went by after his defeat, Shannon’s pain grew. His teammates went on to win 36 more bouts, 9 gold medals, a silver and a bronze. When it was over, Shannon was left as the answer to an Olympic trivia question: “Name the only member of the 1984 U.S. Olympic boxing team not to win a medal.”

It is seven months later. Some of Shannon’s teammates--Mark Breland, Evander Holyfield, Meldrick Taylor and Pernell Whitaker--have multimillion-dollar contracts. They box in big-time arenas, such as Madison Square Garden, sleep in the best hotels and travel by jet.

Then there is Shannon, who says he learned to fight before any of them, because he had to.

Shannon, of Everett, Wash., sat in a motel coffee shop here recently and talked about the Olympics and his young pro career. The next night, he earned $600 for boxing a little-known opponent at the Solano County fairgrounds in Vallejo.

“I don’t dwell on it (the loss to Moon) much,” he said. “What’s done is done.

“I look at it as a learning experience. I’d always considered myself a slugger in the amateurs. I was always a little bit stronger than my opponents.

“But I learned in that bout you just can’t go out there and slug with everyone. Eventually, you’ll meet someone who hits as hard as you do. I learned a lot about patience that day.”

Lack of patience might have cost Shannon a medal. Before the referee stopped the bout, Shannon was ahead on four of the five scorecards.

In the end, though, he was beaten by his rage. When Moon hurt him, he lashed out furiously, instead of employing sensible retreat, and wore himself out. It was vintage Shannon. His heart was in full flame, but his legs were gone.

Said Loring Baker, president of the USA Amateur Boxing Federation: “Shannon had the fight won, if he’d stayed away from the guy. But he went ape.”

Troy Summers, who has trained Shannon since Shannon was 15, partly blames Nappi for Shannon’s defeat, claiming that the Olympic coach should have been concentrating on reviving Shannon between the second and third rounds.

“Look at the videotape of the fight,” Summers said. “Nappi’s talking to him about what to do in the third, but Robert is still hurt and Nappi can’t see that. Look at Robert’s eyes, they’re still glazed over. Robert was still stunned afterward, after he was out of the ring.”

That Shannon was even in the Olympics was something of a surprise. Six months before the Games, he wasn’t regarded as one of the top two or three U.S. bantamweights. But he came on with a rush during the team selection process, capping it in Las Vegas with a stunning knockout of Floyd Favors, a world champion.

Shannon, a natural left-hander, converted to a right-hander when he turned pro. Before his recent bout in Vallejo, he’d won three straight pro bouts by knockout, in the first, second and third rounds.

Said Summers: “It hasn’t been a difficult switch for Robert. In fact, he’s almost ambidextrous. I think his balance is better right-handed. And I think because of his strength, he’ll be a successful pro.”

Shannon, 22, was a championship-level high school, wrestler and occasionally trains with weights, unusual among boxers. In Las Vegas last July, after he’d made the Olympic team, he proudly boasted: “I’m the strongest bantamweight in the world, amateur or pro.”

Summers said: “There are so many rules in the amateurs, some of the bouts look like a referee’s clinic. But in the pros, you can be a lot more physical, particularly inside.

“I’m pleased at how he’s coming along. We could push it. He has a lot of ability, but we’ll take it slow. I don’t want to get him overmatched while he’s still learning the pro rules. His weight is around 123, and he has no trouble with it. I think he’ll always be a junior featherweight, a featherweight at the most.”

Summers is 47, a former auto dealer who handles a stable of amateurs and pros in a converted firehouse in Everett. The place now is called the Everett Firefighters Boxing Club.

Summers drives his boxers to their engagements in a 1974 Chevy van with 375,000 miles on it.

“I’ve taken up to 17 kids in it at a time to amateur tournaments in places like Spokane, Missoula, Casper, Las Vegas, Reno, Sacramento and Roseberg (Ore.),” he said. “My wife has sold cakes, pies and candy to help us get there.”

Shannon raises pocket money by cutting hair. He’s a licensed hair stylist, and works several days a week at the Cutter’s Cove, a waterfront hair salon in Everett.

These days, though, he is not much of an advertisement for his work. He shaved his own head down to a shiny bald pate about a month ago in an attempt to look like Marvelous Marvin Hagler. But it didn’t work that well for Roundhouse Robert. Now he’s letting it grow out, and Shannon may frighten small children for a while.

When he walked into the coffee shop wearing a denim jacket that looked similar to prison-issue, a patron sized up Shannon and whispered to his companion: “Convict.”

Shannon sad he had to learn to fight early because his mother is white and his father, who died in 1969, was black.

“When we lived in a predominately white neighborhood in Everett, I got in street fights with neighborhood white kids who called me names because my dad was black,” he said.

“When we lived in the central district of Seattle, a black area, the kids called me names like Honky and I had to fight them, too.

“I lost a few, but after a while I got pretty good. No one wanted to fight me twice. After I beat up one kid at school when I was 12, he invited me to his gym. I joined to learn how to box, which I’d always wanted to do anyway, since my dad boxed in the Air Force.”

The recent trip to Vallejo was by way of Lake Tahoe, where another of Summers’ undefeated boxers, junior welterweight Joe Belinc, posted a TKO win in his fourth pro bout. Also on the trip was Bret Summers, Troy’s son, a lightweight with a 22-0 pro record.

After Belinc had won at Tahoe, Summers’ old van was loaded up again for the drive to Vallejo, for Shannon’s fourth bout.

The main event on the card at the Solano County fairgrounds was supposed to feature heavyweight Tom Payne, the 7-foot 2-inch former basketball player. But the promoter, Bill Rossi, learned at the noon weigh-ins that Payne wouldn’t box.

When Summers and Shannon arrived from their motel, Rossi was taping signs over the box-office window that said: “Tom Payne Will NOT Box Tonight.” Even so, ticket prices remained at $20 and $10.

The fairgrounds exhibition hall had about 1,500 metal folding chairs arranged around the ring, on the asphalt floor. The hall was drafty, since a big window was broken out. At a makeshift cocktail bar, a man was taping up a sign that said: COCTAILS. Over a public-address system that couldn’t handle the volume, the theme from “Rocky” blasted away.

Shannon’s opponent was from Mexico, Nagor Saucedo, said to be making his pro debut. About an hour before the bout, however, an unidentified man approached Summers and whispered in conspiratorial tones: “Be careful of this kid, Troy. He could get Bobby.” The man departed quickly, before Summers could learn more.

Shannon, 22, wearing his Olympic USA robe, stepped into the ring at 121 1/2 pounds. Saucedo looked cool and confident, but perhaps two or three years younger than Shannon.

At the opening bell, Shannon applied heavy pressure. He connected with lefts and rights, backing Saucedo up. He hurt Saucedo with two right hand shots to the rib cage, but the pace was faster than Summers wanted and he yelled: “Take your time, Robert. Take your time!”

In the last 10 seconds of the first round, Shannon decked Saucedo with a short, straight right.

In the second, Shannon slowed the pace but remained on the offensive. Saucedo was losing, but hadn’t lost his poise and was still throwing respectable punches. And he definitely didn’t look like a rookie.

In the third round, all the pain and agony of Shannon’s Olympic nightmare returned.

Saucedo caught Shannon off-guard on the ropes, delivered a right hand to the jaw, and Shannon collapsed to the canvas, flat on his back. He got up, dazed, and finished the round, throwing wild, out-of-control punches.

Summers was nearly beside himself. “Robert, stay away from him!” he shouted, trying to be heard over the roar of the spectators, who sensed an upset.

Shannon stayed away from Saucedo in the next two rounds, then went after him again in the sixth. Saucedo seemed to tire quickly, and Shannon sensed it. He dropped Saucedo at the ropes with a short, hard right. Then, a half minute later, knocked him out with a thundering right. Saucedo landed face-first and was on the canvas for a minute.

Afterward, in the small dressing room, Summers pointed his finger in Shannon’s face and said: “Robert, we’ve got to break that macho stuff out of you. Remember, in the pros, when you get knocked down, you’ve lost that round. Stay away from the guy! You can’t get that round back--just finish the round on your feet.”

When the bout had ended, some of the more appreciative in the audience of 700 had thrown quarters in the ring. Summers mopped his brow.

“The crowd liked it a lot better than I did,” he said. “There’s no way that kid (Saucedo) had not had any fights. That’s why you have to be so careful bringing a young pro along. You just never really know who you’re up against.”

The promoter handed Shannon, who still hadn’t showered, his $600-check. So far, his paydays have been $1,200, $800, $600 and $600.

A half-hour later, showered and dressed, Shannon talked about his effort.

“I let him catch me with a right that I shouldn’t have,” he said. “I guess I got a little careless because until that point he was missing a lot and I wasn’t having a hard time getting to him. I guess I just like to knock people out too much.

“By the sixth, I’d worn him out. I was in much better shape than he was, and I’m happy with that. I know I’m ready for an eight-rounder now, but Troy wants me to go six again.”

In addition to being the only member of the 1984 Olympic boxing team not to have won a medal, Shannon was also the only one who had also been on the 1980 Olympic team. In ‘80, his roommate was Richard Sandoval of Pomona, now the WBA bantamweight champion.

“Wouldn’t that be something, if Richie and I wound up fighting for a title some time?” Shannon said.

Shannon pocketed his $600-check, zipped up his duffel, and walked out of the drafty fairgrounds building. As he climbed into Summers’ battered van for the long ride home, a title shot seemed far, far away.