Appearances Aren’t Everything to Nick DeLong : Heavyweight Bartender Will Try to Beat Up Mark Mahone Tonight at Irvine

The sign in Long Beach’s Seaside Gym reads, “Please don’t throw trash or spit on the floor.” When you have to be told where to spit, you’ve crossed the precipice into the dregs.

This is an old-fashioned gymnasium, the kind of drab, dank, unsavory quarters you’d expect from boxing. It’s full of the pungent smells of soaking sweat and dried blood. This is the seedy side of sport, and it’s not a pretty sight, but then, neither are some of the fighters.

Nick DeLong fits into this setting comfortably. The 6-foot 4-inch, 230-pound heavyweight, who doubles as a bartender at a Belmont Shores’ tavern, is a pug-nosed pugilist. He looks as if he’s had one too many front-end collisions. His eyes are blackened and his nose is squashed.

As disconcerting as his appearence might seem, Delong, 30, is not uptight. First appearances are not everything, he says.

“It’s part of my personality, it’s part of my looks,” said DeLong, a former San Jose State football player and wrestler. “I would never get a nose change. I like it.”

OK, he likes it. He actually enjoys this low-down, two-bit profession known as boxing. He actually likes to beat up on opponents, whether they be sparring partners or challengers in some small-town arena where the locals go for their Saturday night fix.

And for what? Fame. Hardly. His chances of laying an opponent on the Caesars Palace canvas are about as good as yours or mine.

Fortune? At $350 a bout, no way. Anyway, he doesn’t seem the type to dress for success.

So, what’s this all about, this Walter Mitty in baggy Everlast shorts, laced gloves and high tops?

DeLong pulls no punches when hanging his psyche out for all to see.

“I’m bored. Are you bored?” he asks a photographer during an interview. “I want to get back to work. I’m just a guy who boxes.”

A guy who boxes. DeLong’s one of those dedicated sorts who knows no end to boundless enthusiasm. At an age when he should be into more gentlemenly sports such as jogging or bicycling or racquetball, DeLong is doing everything he can to remain a ring bearer.

For the past eight weeks, DeLong, who as a college freshman was the Pacific Coast Athletic Assn. heavyweight wrestling champion, has trained intensely in preparation for a six-round fight tonight against Mark Mahone at the Irvine Marriott Hotel.

“All I’ve been thinking about is this fight,” said DeLong, who has a 6-2 pro record. “All I’ve been thinking about is beating somebody up.”

Said Sonny Ray, a former light heavyweight who owns and operates Seaside Gym: “He’s not a quitter. As long as he can stand up, he’s going to fight. He’s got the potential to become a great fighter, but bringing all the potential to the surface is something that he has got to do.”

It’s a most difficult task. Unlike a majority of boxers, DeLong didn’t turn pro until late in life. Most boxers are in their late teens or early 20s when they start. DeLong began his career 18 months ago.

After leaving San Jose State in 1978, DeLong tried out with the National Football League’s Kansas City Chiefs. He was cut, however, and the next year he played semi-pro ball for Chico’s Twin City Cougars.

Then the psychology major worked as a child probation officer for three juvenile ranches in the San Jose area. At about this time he got involved with amateur boxing, and won the 1981 California State Amateur title.

Bill Fields, a veteran boxing manager, spotted him and shortly thereafter asked DeLong to move to Long Beach to turn pro.

“I was impressed with him because he demolished his opponent,” said Fields, DeLong’s manager.

Perhaps it was a capricious act or just a bit of naivete, but DeLong lunged at the chance to turn pro.

“I think (DeLong) sees all these big bucks around,” said Don Fraser, who is promoting the monthly fights at the Irvine Marriott. “The talent isn’t all that great in the heavyweights, except for Larry Holmes.”

Though DeLong believes he has a chance to become a successful heavyweight, he doesn’t bleed confidence. But with the cards he attracts, it’s difficult to blame him.

“You just go in and sign a contract and fight him,” DeLong said of the kind of competition he faces. “I know he has two arms. He’s nobody.”

Still, DeLong has become serious about boxing. Five of his six wins have been knockouts. And when he steps into the ring, it’s a life or death situation for him.

“When someone’s really trying to knock your head off, trying to knock you down, that is the most intense moment in your life,” DeLong said. “It’s beyond being scared. All you’re thinking is survival.”

Surviving for DeLong wasn’t difficult when he grew up in Slatington, Pa. He’s the youngest of three boys and said by the time he was 8 years old none of the neighborhood youths wanted to fight him. He lived with his mother, Renee, until he was 13 and went to stay on a farm with his father, Jim, who died 10 years ago.

“There was no crime,” DeLong said. “When someone asked if you had any acid, they were talking about for their car. I was in college before I knew anything about that stuff.”

After an all-state football and wrestling career at Slatington High School, DeLong earned a football scholarship to San Jose State in 1975.

He played offensive tackle before being switched to nose guard his senior year. That year he was involved in 101 tackles, 37 of which were unassisted, and was a conference first-team selection.

While in Northern California, he started going to a boxing gym near San Jose State. He had boxed during his summers at Slatington, but his interest was piqued in the California gymnasium.

“One time there was an amateur fight in town,” DeLong recalled. “So I joined in and fought a guy who was supposed to be a real hot shot and knocked him out. I started taking fights. Pretty soon I was engulfed in boxing.

“I hope to one day make a lot of money, but right now all I’m worrying about is beating somebody up. I’m not even thinking about the money.”

When you’re a fighter without a household name and training in a run-down gym such as Seaside’s, you can’t afford to worry about the money. Not yet.