When my brother handed me this book from a cut out bin in Chicago, I wasn't going to let a present go to waste, so I threw it in my backpack, eventually rediscovering it. I have to admit I became captivated and looked forward to reading it on the train rides between Brooklyn and Manhattan.

Once you get past the two initial chapters of John Duncan's "In The Red Corner" the book becomes a half decent voyeuristic peek into Cuba's Boxing revolution. Although the author is obsessed with his own wit and politically biased criticism of Cuba, the information and interviews, which he gathers of "lost stars" of Cuban boxing is worth a read.

For us modern day MMA fans, Cuban Boxing might come to mind when we think of the Nogueira's, Rodrigo and Rogeiro, who complemented and sharpened their own jiu jitsu skills with some good ole fashion Cuban training and jabbing discipline. Since even Antonio Inoki is a good friend with Fidel, it is interesting to look at the debt modern fight hybrids have to old school amateur boxing. The pro fight between Cassius Clay and legendary Teofilio Stevenson never did come true, but Ali vs. Inoki sure as hell did, and it set a Dadaist stage for the future called MMA. Although this book is not about MMA, it is an outsider's look into boxing subculture, and a very different culture, period.

Premise
Duncan reminds me of Albert Pizzi, self-absorbed with his own humorless and arrogant British views. He begins with his own pitiful saga, confesses to know nothing about boxing, and I’m sure his woman left him for a good reason. He then quits his dull newspaper job and travels to Cuba in search of amateur gold boxing sensation Felix Savon, trying to supposedly set up a pro fight with the then ideal Mike Tyson. I suppose he could be deluded, but who cares, he does some investigating.

We find out about people such as Chilean, John Budinich, who established Cuba's first boxing association back in 1910. We discover the first official Fly bout title in 1913, which was captured by Florentin Llano over Victor Achan, within the confines of Llano’s own living room. Then there is Anastacio Penalver, who in 1914 became Cuba's first boxing champion.
And eventually we reach the well-oiled machine that creates and refines talent for the world’s biggest amateur boxing powerhouse.

It's the anecdotes of crash and burn characters like Sergio Eligio Sardinas Montalvo - Kid Chocolate - considered to be perhaps the most complete boxer of his time that make this book an interesting peruse. We learn about his lust for clothes and women, and how a small town boy conquered the heart of New York’s fight aficionados in the late 1920's.
It also recognizes the corruption, which has always guided the professional aspect of the sport, and most importantly, how a talented athlete can be used up and broken in no time flat and wind up in a numbered grave.

Although the book is informative, it is also a bleak account of the struggles, which Cuba has been encountering for many years. Although Duncan is indeed naïve about both boxing and Cuban culture, he is at least interested in learning and telling about the characters and stars who have emerged from Cuba, since banning professional boxing because of its brutality and disregard for the athletes. He travels with the team to Easter Europe, he reminds us of the Atlanta boycott, and in the end he can't figure out why a person would pass up millions of dollars based on political principles.

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