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Joey Gamache

As Joey Gamache sits in a Manhattan courtroom, listening to lawyers argue his seven-year-old lawsuit against the New York State Athletic Commission, he might ponder the tragic irony: In life, Arturo Gatti was much bigger than Gamache when they met at Madison Square Garden in the winter of 2000.

That's the basis for the lawsuit.

In death, Gatti has loomed larger than Gamache just when they were to meet again. Gatti, 37, was found dead in a Brazilian resort last weekend, apparently strangled by a purse strap while he slept. Police are questioning his 23-year-old wife.

Gatti was to testify in front of a judge at the non-jury trial.

Gatti was the favorite when he climbed through the ropes that Saturday night in 2000. He and Gamache, the former world lightweight champ from Lewiston, were the featured fight on the undercard to an Oscar De La Hoya fight. The day before at the weigh-in, Gatti had jumped on and off the scales quickly. Too quickly, some thought, particularly Johnny Bos, who was Gamache's manager. Bos protested, but New York State Athletic Commission members weren't listening.

If Bos thought something was up – like Gatti's weight – he could pull his fighter. Another opponent could be found on short notice. Bos and Gamache had no leverage.

Before the fight, Bos told me Gatti was weighed again, unofficially, at 160, some 20 pounds heavier than the day before. They're saying it's water weight and he had a big dinner after the weigh-in, said Bos. A heavyweight might be able to put that weight back on in 24 hours, but a junior welterweight? No way. He had to have been heavier at the weigh-in, said Bos.

The weight disparity was apparent when they listened to the referee before Round 1. Gamache was knocked down twice in that round. In the second round he was knocked out before his body hit the canvas. You can find the video of the two rounds on the Internet. Nine years hasn't diminished the brutality.

I was at ringside. Later I met Gamache's father and two of his young nephews for a ride to lower Manhattan and St. Vincent's Hospital. Sometime past midnight he was admitted. He asked to see Bos and me. A doctor was examining him again when we walked off the elevator and into his room.

Gamache tried to sit up and couldn't. The doctor told him he had a head injury. Gamache spoke clearly when he went back over the fight. He had tried to move and rally. That's why he got back to his feet after the first two knockdowns. Someone else might have stayed down.

Gamache was finished as a contender. "I told him the end of his career would not be pretty," said Tony Lampron, a former trainer who nurtured Gamache through many of his amateur and professional fights, and still talks to him at least once a year.

"It's just the way it is in boxing. Joey was 19 when I said that. He didn't believe me."

Bos, because of his protests and the lawsuit his fighter filed two years later, believes he was finished as a manager and matchmaker in his hometown of New York. He said so when he testified earlier in the trial, arriving after a 26-hour train ride from Florida, where he works the boxing scene today.

Gamache never blamed Gatti, who asked about Gamache's health before leaving for his victory party. Gamache's suit accuses the athletic commission of negligence. Testimony and closing arguments could wind up the trial early next week.

Money sought for damages, if Gamache wins, has not been disclosed. He lives in New York with Sissy, his wife of some 10 years, and his son, Steven, 27. Gamache trains fighters. He has worked with Emanuel Steward, the legendary trainer who developed Tommy Hearns, among other fighters. Gamache's reputation as one of boxing's humble, sincere good guys has solidified over the last nine years.

"In terms of winning, I know this is a tough fight," Gamache told Mitch Abramson of the New York Daily News. "I'm just happy we're able to get our story out."

Staff Writer Steve Solloway can be contacted at 791-6412 or at:

ssolloway@pressherald.com