Virgil McClendon
Paul Dalrymple
Virgil McClendon feels 'if it ain't rough, it ain't right.' He's had it
rough. Now he can make it right.
Sunday, July 18, 1999
By Jeff Nielsen, Columbus Dispatch Sports Reporter
As a young boy feeling his way around a boxing ring, Virgil McClendon
quickly learned there was a penalty for spending more than a couple of
seconds against the ropes.
"Coach would put us in the push- up position if he caught us,'' McClendon
said.
And in that position the offender would stay, extended above ground,
straining not to drop, until the punishment was deemed over. Drop early and
the punishment worsened.
"You didn't want to drop,'' McClendon said with a knowing laugh.
McClendon apparently learned the lesson well. Twice, the Columbus native has
found his boxing career up against the ropes. Each time, he has been in that
proverbial push- up position, straining not to drop.
First a serious motorcycle accident, then an even more serious run- in with
the law threatened to end McClendon's career. But neither kept McClendon out
of the ring, although he was counted out by many who knew him or knew of
him.
"There were people who said I was through, that I wouldn't be able to come
back,'' McClendon said. "But I always came back strong. Those people didn't
know me.''
The Virgil McClendon they don't know, the boxer says, is one who has learned
from his mistakes and has grown from them. A seasoned 34 years old, he
claims to be a better boxer now because of the pitfalls.
"It hasn't been all smooth sailing for me,'' McClendon said. "But it's like
I say, 'If it ain't rough, it ain't right.' It's been rough for me, so it's
going to be right.''
It would be easy to dismiss McClendon's confidence as simple ring bluster.
After all, a quick tongue can get a fighter noticed almost as much as a
quick jab. But McClendon has reason to be confident.
As a professional, he has a 21-1 record and is ranked in the top 10 of three
of boxing's four major organizations in the junior welterweight (140 pounds)
division.
McClendon will get his first title shot on Saturday at the Hilton Hotel and
Casino in Las Vegas, where he fights Terronn Millett for the IBF junior
welterweight title.
"I'm right at the door now, all I have to do is stay focused and be
patient,'' McClendon said.
Staying focused hasn't always been easy for McClendon.
As an amateur, he was regarded as one of the best fighters to come out of
Columbus, but he also was known as something of a showboat. He may have
loved the limelight, but he also loved cruising the town on his motorcycle.
In the fall of 1986, having ignored his family's requests to change his mode
of transportation, McClendon was struck by a car while riding.
McClendon sustained several serious injuries, including a left femur broken
in three places and a dislocated right knee. He also suffered torn ligaments
and tendons in both legs. Doctors told him he likely would walk with a limp
for the rest of his life. They also said he would never box again.
"Peanut, he never got down,'' said McClendon's mother, Priscilla Jones,
using the nickname her son has had since his childhood. "He just didn't
believe what the doctors told him. They told him that he would be in a
wheelchair for x amount of months, and I think he was in the wheelchair for
a week.
"He was determined to box again.''
McClendon began punching a speed bag while he was still on crutches. He was
in the ring, wearing a leg brace, within a few hours after getting his cast
removed. He was back boxing six months after the accident.
"None of that was by doctor's choice,'' McClendon said. "I just never
thought that I wouldn't box again.''
A year later, McClendon was back in form.
He claimed the 119-pound title at the Ohio State Fair invitational amateur
tournament in 1987. His stellar amateur career, in which he posted a 269-33
record, was back on track.
"In amateur boxing, it's a rush to get points,'' McClendon said. "When you
get in the ring as a pro and have 10 rounds to fight, you can do what you
want to do. You can showcase your ability a little bit more.''
With his eyes focused on bigger glories, McClendon turned pro in 1989. At
that point, his future looked golden.
Less than two years later, however, his future looked gone.
The hard road
McClendon's smile is his most noticeable feature, with a single gold tooth
highlighting a broad, white grin.
He is warm and personable. A nice guy.
McClendon doesn't come off as a person with a shadowy past, but he has one.
After the motorcycle accident, as his boxing career took an upward turn, his
personal life headed the opposite direction.
"I was a street thug,'' McClendon said. "I was on the streets hustling,
doing whatever it took to get over.''
The lifestyle bought him more than he bargained for.
In early 1991, McClendon was arrested and charged with two counts of
aggravated murder in the slayings of Ricardo Flipping and Michael F.
McCullough, two Columbus men found shot to death in a stolen car in March
1990. Police said the killings were drug-related.
McClendon, who knew the victims, was acquitted of the charges in October
1992.
"I had faith in the Lord, and he looked out for me,'' McClendon said. "I
wasn't worried because I knew I didn't do anything wrong. But it was really
hard for my mom. I think it aged her by 10 years.''
McClendon doesn't blame the system. Rather, he acknowledges his lifestyle
made him an easy target.
"If I hadn't been on the streets, doing what I was doing, all that wouldn't
have happened to me,'' he said.
That's a message McClendon began to spread after his release from prison in
1994. Despite his acquittal, he had spent an extra two years in prison for a
parole violation on a previous aggravated assault conviction.
"I hope what happened to me opens a lot of young kids' eyes,'' he said. "If
I had stayed on the streets and kept hustling, I wouldn't be where I am
now.''
The four years inside gave McClendon time for self-evaluation, he said, and
a desire to turn his life around.
"I believe that everything happens for a purpose,'' said McClendon, a father
of eight children, three of whom live with him and his wife, Lawanna. "I'm a
better fighter, a better father, a better everything now.''
End of waiting game
McClendon's hardships may have strengthened him, but they also turned the
clock against him. After all, at 34 he is nearing the end of his boxing
days.
"I can't afford to be on the shelf too much longer,'' McClendon said.
"Things have to happen for me now.''
McClendon figures he has at least two good years of boxing remaining but
adds that much rides on this title shot. If he loses to Millett, he isn't
likely to get another such opportunity.
"Not many fighters get a second chance,'' he said. "This may be the only
chance I ever get to win a world championship.''
McClendon's camp has anticipated a title fight since he won his last fight
13 months ago. They used the long layoff to train for a major bout, stepping
up the intensity the last few weeks.
"Virgil's ready for it,'' said Vonzell Johnson, one of McClendon's trainers.
"When you're ranked (in the top five) in the world, you had better be ready
for it.''
Readiness has been a constant.
Promoter Don King called McClendon three times in recent months telling him
to be ready for a championship bout, only to call later and tell him the
fight didn't come through.
"That was disappointing for us,'' said Pete Seward, another of McClendon's
trainers. "But that's boxing. It ain't a fight until the bell rings.''
When the bell does ring on Saturday, McClendon will be matched against an
opponent with skills vastly different from his own. While McClendon relies
on speed and quickness, Millett (21-1-1) is a power puncher who has won 16
of his fights by knockout.
"He's a big puncher, the kind of guy that comes to fight, basically,''
McClendon said. "And that's fine by me. It will make me stand out, if I'm at
the top of my game -- which I am.''
Indeed, this is a fight that can bring the spotlight down on McClendon. It
will be televised on Showtime, along with a WBA welterweight title bout
between James Page and Freddie Pendelton.
"It's nice that it's televised,'' McClendon said. "But I wouldn't care if
there were just 10 guys in the crowd, if I was fighting for a world
championship. Winning that is all that matters.''
And, like always, McClendon is confident he will win.
"When I'm out jogging, I can picture the fight in my mind,'' he said. "I can
see me punching him, and I can see my arm being raised in the air.
"I know I'll beat him.''
Getting away from it all
Somewhere in Adams County, near the Ohio-Kentucky border, a secluded
farmhouse sits tucked away between the trees, acres away from other homes.
McClendon dreams of such a place.
"I want a lot of land, a whole lot,'' he said. "I want my next-door neighbor
to be 200 acres down the road.''
There are huge paydays to be had within boxing. Many who win championship
belts have built homes in such places, and some earn enough money to build
two or three or more lavish homes.
McClendon's plans aren't that grandiose.
He wants to win a major title, have a couple of marquee fights and then . .
. disappear.
"That's it,'' McClendon said. "One or two defenses, and I'm out. I don't
need to stay around forever.''
If and when that happens, McClendon will have proved all his doubters wrong.
And he will have found the only thing short of death that could keep him out
of the boxing ring.
Injuries couldn't do it.
A long layoff in prison couldn't do it.
Success can.