Remembering George Kimball

By Matt Richardson

I wasn’t particularly close with George Kimball. I’m sure there are others in the boxing community who could share more stories and tell more jokes than I can about him. But while I wasn’t a close friend or family member, I did spend countless hours at ringside with George in close, tight proximity. Frequently sharing the same, cramped desk and a power strip that always seemed to turn off when our laptops needed the juice most, I covered boxing with George for years.

Whether it was a big fight in the main arena of Madison Square Garden or a club show featuring two pugs with limited ability, George was there; taking notes and asking questions inside the venue and frequently smoking a cigarette under an awning outside of it.

His presence gave the event a dose of credibility. If George was there writing about it, then that meant it was important. And if he felt it was important, so did I.

After all, this was the writer who covered Leonard.

And Hearns.

And Hagler.

And Duran.

And he was ringside for every fight those men boxed against one another. Think about that. It’s a pretty impressive accomplishment.

In late 2008, barely six months after I graduated from journalism school, George’s book on those legends, “Four Kings,” was published. I bought the book as soon as it was released and devoured it quickly.

It was as good as advertised and made me long for the day when boxing was still huge and the role of the boxing writer, that much more important.

A few weeks after finishing the book, I covered a fight with George in the main arena of the Garden. All night I had kept a copy of the book in my computer bag. I brought it along with me hoping to have him sign it but couldn’t grow the nerve to ask him to do so.

How would he react? After all, George was known to use an expletive or two when he didn’t like what he saw. Would it be unethical to ask for a signature? I was just 23 and still relatively green behind the ears. Would I look too much like a fan and less objective?

Finally, as the crowd in the arena grew sparse and the remaining ringside writers began to meet their deadlines, I summoned the nerve, pulled the book from my bag and asked George if he would mind signing it for me.

I think he may have been taken aback a little but he smiled and took the book from me. I handed him a pen and soon he finished his inscription. I thanked him and hurriedly placed the book back in my bag; hesitant to have him see me review his signature.

We spoke briefly a little while longer, then exchanged pleasantries and went on our way.

Later that evening, when I finally found myself alone and able to take a peek at what George wrote, I was touched to see how he began his note:

“To my friend and colleague,” he inscribed.

I’d be lying if I said I remember what else he wrote under that. But the rest was moot.

George Kimball, a veteran journalist at the Boston Herald for 25 years, considered me a friend. George Kimball, the guy who questioned Leonard, probed Hearns, was ringside for “No Mas” and was on the ring apron as Hagler trained, considered me a colleague.

What an endorsement! I was humbled. That dose of credibility had now been shared with me. A 23-year-old kid (and an Internet boxing writer, no less) and I was considered a colleague by one of the more prolific boxing writers of all time.

I didn’t forget that night or what George wrote on the opening page of his book for me. I always made an effort to speak to him when I’d see him at the fights and pick his brain about an upcoming bout.

When he passed away this week, at age 67, after a long battle with cancer, I was saddened and surprised. You always knew he was sick, but since he was always around covering boxing, you sort of put it to the side. But his absence will be felt. Boxing has lost one of its greatest scribes.

I will miss my friend and colleague, George Kimball.

Ringside won’t be the same.

July 7th, 2011

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