Boxing Legend
MANCHESTER — John Scully is an uncomplicated man who picks directions, identifies preferences and sticks with what works. It’s always been that way, and it applies to everything in his life.
“I’ve never had a pickle,” Scully said recently. “I’ve never had eggnog. I’ve never had lobster. I’ve never had beets. I’ve never had an olive. I know what I want, and that’s all I do. People say I’m missing out. I say I’ve had a great life. I didn’t miss out because I’ve never had a pickle.”
Scully, 51, a decorated boxer out of Windsor who has transitioned into a successful career as a trainer, knew immediately upon reading Muhammad Ali’s autobiography as a young boy that he would spend his life in rings and gyms.
He won 29 of his first 31 professional bouts and fought for a light heavyweight world title in 1996, retiring in 2001 with a record of 38-11. He has spent the years since training world champions
“I say I’ve had a great life. I didn’t miss out because I’ve never had a pickle.”
—John Scully
and little kids alike, drawing joy from the sport’s big stages and its local gyms and countless relationships.
It is simply what he wanted, this boxing life, one that will be recognized Sunday in New York, where the Veteran Boxing Foundation of New York Ring 10 will honor him with the prestigious Bert Sugar Historian Award, recognizing those “who carry a proficient knowledge of the history of boxing and preserve its memories.”
No one keeps in touch with the boxing community quite like Scully, “The Iceman.” He is a boxing gem, a Greater Hartford gem, intelligent, caring, a link to our state’s boxing past and a guide
for its future. On Sunday, he’ll be in company he’s used to, boxers he’s fought, trained and even admired from afar before befriending (Roberto Duran and Vinny Paz will be special guests, and Gerry Cooney will be honored).
Scully is the knows-everybody guy, having gone about a career the way he has everything else. He goes to the same restaurants and orders without opening a menu. He eats chicken and pasta five nights a week. He drinks lemonade and Yoo-hoo.
“I’ve never tasted alcohol,” Scully said. “I’ve considered it as much as I’ve considered jumping headfirst off a building onto the concrete. People give me credit, but it’s like saying it’s cool you’ve never eaten dirt before. There’s no temptation. That’s all I mean.
“Muhammad Ali said he didn’t drink alcohol. I was like, that’s it; I don’t need it. I remember the night of my pro debut in the Civic
Center and after the fight [trainer] Mac Buckley [offered] me a beer, and I was like, ‘Are you crazy?’ I never understood celebrating with alcohol.”
Everyone should be able to identify what makes them happy, what gives them purpose, the way Scully has with ease.
“My first day in a real gym was March of 1982 in Windsor Locks,” said Scully, who is married with a daughter and three stepchildren. “I knew what I was going to do the rest of my life well enough that when I was doing my final exam as a senior in high school for accounting, I turned it over and I drew boxing pictures. In typing class, I would just type out my record — names, dates, sites, results, in a specific style to look like the ‘Ring Record Book.’ ”
Scully has a photographic memory. He has never smoked a cigarette or done a drug and didn’t know what marijuana even looked like until a month ago when he saw a picture online, first thinking it was cabbage. He has had the same AOL email address since
1998 and dedicates another address to work on his autobiography. He writes a chapter, emails it to himself, and replies with revisions. His inbox probably contains more boxing anecdotes than a library shelf holds.
Scully is so structured and direct in certain approaches, but so broad in his experiences and wisdom. He just knows what works for him.
“The first time I ever ate a chicken wing was 2012,” he said. “A chicken breast has like 10 times more meat. Why wouldn’t you just eat that?”
Scully met his hero, Ali, a few times and is close with several members of Ali’s family, including a grandson he spars with. Nico Ali-Walsh once had Scully try calamari.
“I found out later what it was,” Scully said. “I eat quesadillas. I eat chicken. I eat Reese’s [peanut butter] cups. I like Slim Fast drinks. I eat Wheaties.”
Scully trains fighters at Charter Oak Boxing Academy on Pope
Park Avenue. He organizes reunions for hundreds of boxers, including former world and Olympic champions, every year in Las Vegas or Los Angeles. He is through two years of a Las Vegas-based study that examines retired fighters annually to gauge cognitive function. He collects and sells memorabilia to donate money to retired boxers in need.
Scully’s main professional project right now is training Artur Beterbiev, the IBF light heavyweight world champion. He has made a comfortable living, bought himself a car after training New Haven’s Chad Dawson to a victory over Bernard Hopkins in 2012. He’ll drive that Mitsubishi into the ground.
Scully on investing: “I ask, ‘Is there any chance I could even lose a nickel?’ They say, ‘Well, yeah.’ I say, ‘I’ll put it in a savings account.’ I’ve read enough articles with a guy jumping off the 40th floor because he lost all his money. And if I have money, what do I need more for?”
Scully has spent countless nights in casinos but has gambled just twice.
“Foxwoods isn’t adding on because they’re losing,” he quipped. “I don’t want to be the guy buying them a new bathroom.”
Scully is just about boxing, the childhood love that gave him direction and friendships and a career. He hasn’t needed much else beyond that and his family. He certainly doesn’t worry about whether he might like pickles, this guy who was always as fearless as friendly while racking up a wealth of experiences.
“First time I ever left the country was for boxing,” Scully said. “First time I ever went on a plane was for boxing. First time I ever went jet-skiing was for boxing. … I know what confrontation is. It’s easy to fight in a bar. Someone steps on your shoe, you fight because you have to. How about one of you goes outside, the other goes in the bathroom, think about it and come back in 10 minutes and fight. You give yourself time to contemplate it, you don’t come back. I love that about boxing. You’re going to face death or you’re not.”