Above: Tim Tomashek didn’t manage to get the upset of the century, but his post-fight interview will go down in history. 

WHEN A MOVIE REUNION TURNED INTO A REAL-LIFE ROCKY MOMENT … SORT OF

For the first 15 years of my broadcasting career, I was privileged to announce the weekly ESPN Top Rank boxing series. From 1980 to 1995, the series aired nearly 50 shows per year. It has become a cult classic among boxing fans because it produced exciting, unpredictable, quirky and sometimes even crazy moments. It often seemed that everything that could happen, did happen. On August 30, 1993, Tim Tomashek happened. 

Our show on that evening came to America from the Kemper Arena in Kansas City, Missouri. It was to be a coronation of sorts for local hero Tommy Morrison, who was making the first defense of the WBO heavyweight title he had won from George Foreman almost three months earlier. 

His opponent that evening was a fringe contender named Mike Williams, who got the fight more because of his work on a movie set than for his work in the ring. Mike had played heavyweight Union Cane in the Rocky V movie, where his character lost to Tommy Gunn – played by none other than Tommy Morrison. So, you get the promotional idea here. Actually, it was to be a mini-reunion of sorts, because I played a cameo role in that film as well. However, the reunion became even more mini because it turned out only Tommy and I would stay for the entire evening. 

About an hour before we hit the air, Williams was in his dressing room in his boxing trunks presumably ready for the fight. Then word got out to Top Rank officials that he refused to get wrapped or put his gloves on for the event. So, Bob Arum, on two different occasions, went into the dressing room to give Williams a pep-talk to get him to go through with the fight. He thought he had succeeded … until Williams fled the dressing room and the building, never to return. 

When Williams left, there appeared to be no way to save the card. At that point, Top Rank matchmaker (and now Hall of Famer) Bruce Trampler, casually mentioned to event coordinator/fighter liaison Pete Susens and fellow matchmaker Sean Gibbons what had happened and said it looked like there would be no fight. Pete and Sean suggested another route. Tim Tomashek, the pride of Green Bay Wisconsin and full time Shopko employee, was watching preliminary bouts with some friends. He had already polished off two beers and a hot dog when Susens and Gibbons asked him to fight the heavyweight champion, and of course he said yes. By evening’s end, he would be a permanent part of ESPN and boxing folklore. 

Tommy Morrison had won the WBO title less than three months earlier with a unanimous decision over George Foreman. (Photo by: The Ring Magazine via Getty Images)

Tomashek was the most unlikely candidate to be fighting for the heavyweight title. He was a 28-year-old cruiserweight and sometimes heavyweight with a 35-10 record, but he had only beaten six fighters with winning records. Five of his previous six wins had come against opponents with NO wins – although reportedly all the fighters he beat did have a pulse. 

In truth, Tim could fight some. He had gone 10 rounds in losing to heavyweight contender Frans Botha and had a decision loss to Anaclet Wamba, who would win the WBC cruiserweight title two bouts later. He was a busy fighter in the ring with a difficult and awkward style. When Top Rank found itself without one of the main event fighters an hour before a nationally televised card, Tim was the very definition of “any port in a storm.” 

Tomashek had appeared on ESPN in 1990, so my broadcast partner Barry Tompkins and I had some knowledge of his skill level and fighting style. We also knew that he was a character in and out of the ring. Take his nickname, “The Doughboy.” As Barry pointed out, “not exactly the typical boxer’s nickname designed to strike fear in your heart.” It wasn’t inaccurate, though. The 205-pound Tomashek was indeed a little pudgy.

When ESPN officials got wind of the last-minute Williams defection and the plan to insert Tomashek into this fight, they were none too pleased. Seldom was there a world title fight on the weekly Top Rank series, and this was billed as a “Boxing Special.” So, you know … it was supposed to be “special.” Still, that close to air time with no other alternative, they were willing to live with the change. 

And ESPN personnel were not the only ones dismayed by this turn of events. Add Tommy Morrison to that list. Trampler recounts that he went to Morrison’s manager, John Brown, and told him what was happening. Brown said he was not going to be the one who sprung this news on Tommy. So Bruce had the unenviable task of trying to get Tommy to agree to fight this different opponent. Bruce remembers it this way: “John cleared out the dressing room and it was just me and Tommy. Now, mind you, I didn’t really know Tommy that well at that point, though we would get to be good friends later. So, I tell him the story and he doesn’t answer me. He starts pacing around the dressing room and I’m trying to get an answer from him. He’s not saying anything. So, we were pacing together, covering the four corners of that dressing room. Finally, I said ‘I have to have an answer so I can tell the network whether we have a fight or not.’ He was balking at this. Tim had fought his brother  and he knew him (Morrison’s older sibling, also named Tim, had lost a four-round decision to Tomashek in 1988) – he was certainly not afraid of facing Tim but worried the whole situation and Tim’s antics would make him look bad. Arum also came in and lobbied him, and ultimately he ended up fighting.” 

So, at the first bell of our main event, the unheralded Doughboy looked across the ring to see the sculpted 226-pound knockout artist and newly crowned heavyweight champion, Tommy Morrison. If Tim was nervous about his big moment on boxing’s center stage, he didn’t show it. During the first three rounds of the fight, he alternately clowned around and punched. He actually reeled off some good combinations in the opening frames. Over those first three rounds, he had thrown exactly as many punches as Morrison but landed fewer. He was boxing fairly well and entertaining the crowd with an array of eccentric moves in the ring. At one point, he got Morrison in a side headlock and gave him what amounted to a “noogie.” 

In Round 4, Tommy finally got his timing to land big shots. He put Tim down, and when Tim got up, he battered him for most of the round. After the fourth, the ring doctor went into Tim’s corner and asked him, “Do you know where you are?” He responded, “Hey Doc, don’t YOU know where we are?” Over Tim’s protests, the doctor stopped the fight. In a later interview, Tim explained why he thought Morrison picked up the pace to try and end the fight in the fourth. Tim said, “When we found out I was going to fight, we got my gym bag with my boxing gear from the hotel and I realized I never washed my boxing trunks from the previous flight I had. So, I think Tommy just wanted to end the fight as soon as he could so he didn’t have to smell me anymore.” With this fight stoppage it looked like Tim Tomashek’s 15 minutes of fame were coming to an end. Not so. It was actually just the beginning. 

After the fight, I interviewed Morrison, who was sheepish about the nuttier aspects of the evening, though certainly he had done nothing to cause them. Then, with time to fill, we decided to have me interview Tim, who was still hearing cheers from the crowd for his valiant showing and ever-present smile. Good decision by us. With an upper Midwest accent and vocabulary that made him sound like he came right out of the movie Fargo, Tim had himself quite an interview. Here’s how it went: 

AL: We had you on before and you wanted to get on ESPN again, but you didn’t expect it would be under these circumstances. 

TIM: Oh no, jeepers creepers, not at all … Everyone at work probably doesn’t know I’m on, eh. I work at Shopko. Hi everybody from Green Bay. I love you, Mom and Dad, eh. 

AL: This is a big moment for you and you did perform pretty well for a few rounds. His power was just too much. 

TIM: Well, yeah. I’m a good-looking guy, can’t you see? Oh Jesus, he’s too strong, eh. He’s a very good man. I know all the Morrisons. Just too strong, eh. 

AL: You did have your interesting moments in this fight. (During this question, a replay of Tim getting Morrison in a headlock and giving him a “noogie” was showing on the screen.) Tell me exactly from a boxing standpoint what you were doing here? 

TIM: I’m praying’ to Mom, ‘Mom, help me!’ This guy’s so big and so strong. Oh jeepers. 

AL: You got hit by the referee there. 

TIM: They’re all against me, but I love this crowd, eh. (He waves to the crowd and they cheer him again.) 

AL: Well, the crowd loves Tim Tomashek. Why don’t you get down and fight in the cruiserweight division? 

TIM: I fought the world champion, Anaclet Wamba, in Europe. 

AL: I know, you went the distance with him. 

TIM: They tricked me. 

AL: How did they trick you? 

TIM: Free wine on the flight. Oh Jesus, couldn’t pass that up. 

AL: Thanks, Tim 

TIM: I love everybody. Hello, Green Bay! (He waves to the crowd and gets another cheer.) 

The fight:

The interview:

This interview became an instant classic. In fact, I have often used this video as part of my stage show in casinos and theaters, and audiences always roar with laughter. After this aired on ESPN, the producers of the David Letterman show came calling and Tim guested on that show. Yes, he charmed that late-night TV audience as well. And why not? Everyone that came in contact with him in boxing found him to be ingratiating. Barry described him as “the nicest, most self-effacing guy you could ever meet. Definitely in the ‘most unforgettable characters I’ve met’ category.” Bruce said, “He was delightful, no guile in him – just a pure, happy soul.” 

The Letterman fame made him a coveted fighter for the promoters of Midwest club fights. His newfound fame and his wit and personality made him a big asset to these small-town shows. Tim went on a tear, winning 16 of his next 18 fights, and he beat some ferocious fighters, like Winston Burnett, who entered the ring with a robust 21-95-3 mark. Tim won a unanimous decision against him. 

Then there was John Basil Jackson, who was to Tim what the Washington Generals are to the Harlem Globetrotters. In December of 1993, Jackson brought his 2-17-2 record into the ring in Chicago against Tim and left with his 18th defeat. Then, in April of the following year, Jackson had progressed to 2-28-2, but still Tim was not afraid to face him, this time in Davenport Iowa. Again, Tim was victorious. It was so compelling that they fought for a third time only a month later in Omaha, where Tim won again. So, these three fights joined the pantheon of great boxing trilogies: Ward-Gatti, Barrera-Morales, Ali-Frazier and Tomashek-Jackson. 

The fun stopped on March 24,1995, when Tim faced longtime contender Bobby Czyz and was stopped in five rounds. Still, Tim was able to pick up two more wins before retiring from the ring. During his nine-year career, 53 foes were vanquished and thousands of laughs were generated by the man they called The Doughboy – hero of Shopko. His gift to me was the funniest post-fight interview ever conducted – and believe me, there are some other contenders. 

We never did learn two things about that night in August of 1993. First, the WBO never did really rule on Top Rank’s request that the Morrison-Tomashek fight be a sanctioned title match. No ruling ever came on that. If a miracle in the ring had occurred, could we have seen the start of the heavyweight title reign of Tim Tomashek? That’s something to ponder. And, secondly, no one has ever figured out why Mike Williams bolted that night and never fought Tommy Morrison. No offense, Mike, but I think it was best you didn’t fight. I mean, jeepers, we would have never had the tale of Tim Tomashek.