In the same small, former basketball gym on Pennsylvania Avenue that a pair of uncles first dragged him to at age 8 after seeing him fighting on a Sandtown street—and where he’s since thrown millions of more punches with gloves on, sweated off pounds of weight, and honed his boxing skills, mostly with only his coaches and other fighters watching—Gervonta Davis bounced around the ring last week at Upton Boxing Center, the spotlight fully on him.

A giant promotional banner hung from the ceiling, bearing the pertinent information for all to see—Gervonta Davis vs. Ricardo Nunez, alongside their giant likenesses, Saturday, July 27, Royal Farms Arena, Live on Showtime. The eyes and smartphones of a couple hundred fans and the media in attendance, fanning themselves to keep cool in a crowded room warmer than the West Baltimore air outside, tracked Davis’ steps and shadow jabs during a public workout.

“This right here,” said Calvin Ford, the real life inspiration behind the character, Cutty, from The Wire. He’s a former drug dealer turned neighborhood do-gooder who runs the gym and has coached and mentored Davis since he showed up at the front door 16 years ago, “This is what we dreamed about.”

It’s a story worthy of a book—or another HBO show. As we wrote in this December 2016 story, as a tiny kid, Davis often slept on the floor of his drug-addicted parents’ house in possibly the roughest neighborhood in Baltimore City before going into foster care. He “came from nothing,” says Mayweather Promotions CEO Leonard Ellerbe. And, excuse the hyperbole, “he’s made himself into something.”

Now 24, and with a one-year-old daughter of his own, the 5-foot-6, 130-pound spark plug is about to host the homecoming championship fight of his childhood and young adult dreams, before an expected sold-out, 12,000 person crowd Saturday night at downtown Royal Farms Arena. It’s a show, he says, that’s he’s long waited to star in. Over the last six years as a pro—in a career that’s taken him to London, Los Angeles, and New York—Davis has compiled a 21-0 record with 20 knockouts. In January 2017, when he won the IBF junior lightweight title, he became Baltimore’s first world champion since Hasim Rahman in 2001.

Davis’ super featherweight bout against Nunez, a 25-year-old challenger from Panama with a 21-2 career record, marks the first championship boxing match in the city in more than 80 years. The last time being when Harry Jeffra won in 1940 at Carlin’s Park. It comes in a venue that, in a previous life, hosted six Sugar Ray Robinson fights.

It’s also Showtime’s first-ever boxing broadcast from Baltimore, and the undercard is filled with other local fighters who Davis hand-picked to show off—including super lightweight Malik Hawkins (15-0) and 19-year-old super featherweight Malik Warren making his pro debut. They’ve all known each other for years, and have trained together again the last two months—sparring at Upton and taking three-mile runs along North Avenue.

“My brothers,” Davis said. “I’m not fighting alone. We’re all fighting together.”

Think what you want about the violent, gladiator-like nature of the sport we’re talking about (and, yes, a pro boxer just this week sadly died from injuries sustained in the ring), but boxing has been Davis’ refuge, and it provided the platform for a tale of triumph in a city that is on pace for 300-plus homicides for the fifth consecutive year. “We used to be young,” Ford says, “sitting down talking about these times. Now we’re actually in the mix of it.”

And, Saturday, if even only for one night, Davis said he wants to be a “crime stopper,” like Patterson High basketball player Aquille Carr was once known. “It was like they shut down the whole city to watch him,” Davis said. He’s on his way. Mayor Jack Young just presented “Tank” a golden key to the city this week, and Ellerbe said this event won’t be Davis’ last here.

So, what should we expect? As he’s shown in the past, Davis is capable of quick knockouts with his ferocious left fist, but it sounds like he wants to give the crowd its money’s worth. “I always want to give the fans a great performance,” he said on a conference call promoting the event. “That’s my job when I step in the ring, not just try to go in there and look for a knockout, but try to give [the fans] excitement. Give them what they paid their money for.”

He’s a headliner, sure, who “very soon will be the biggest star in the sport,” Ellerbe said. “That’s where we’re guiding him.” But to simply talk about these good times foolishly overlooks the climb it took to get here. Davis’ young eyes have seen tragedy.

“All of them got killed,” he says of the fighters—Angelo Ward, Ronald “Rock” Gibbs, Ford’s son, Qaadir—he once looked up to for inspiration. And danger lurks. Four private security guards watched over last week’s public workout, and a personal guard was never more than a few feet away from Davis. As he finished up a few interviews toward the night’s end, his guard closed a fist, signaling it was time to leave.

Although he says he wants to be a role model, Davis is still admittedly maturing himself. Just in February, he was arrested for an alleged fight at a Northern Virginia mall, news that made TMZ.

“I’m getting older and wiser,” he said. And there’s an endless stream of social media posts, at times showing off the things he’s spent his money on, and the combative barbs he trades with potential future opponents that might give off the wrong impression. “But deep down Tank has a tremendous heart,” Ellerbe said in the middle of the Upton ring, shortly before Davis presented 100 free tickets to Saturday’s fight to local foster children. If all goes according to plan, this is just the start of his star turn, or at least the next few chapters of the story.

“It’s amazing coming home,” Davis said. “I always believed if I was in arm’s reach of a kid, it would mean more than doing it from away. I want to show them anything is possible. I came from the same projects, the same block.”

It’s near dusk on a weekday in late summer, and at 1901 Pennsylvania Avenue in West Baltimore that means work is about to begin. Dozens of kids and a few adults, too, will soon arrive at the Upton Boxing Center to train, spar, and take in the advice that coach Calvin Ford and a partially volunteer staff dish out nightly at this city-funded recreation facility.

“You ain’t nobody until you beat somebody,” Ford says while preparing stations, drills, and matchups for the next few hours. Sage words float around this place, much like the pops from leather gloves smacking training mitts, the beats of 92Q on the radio, and the late afternoon light piercing through a run of high windows in the converted basketball gym.

There are tires to flip. Boxes to leap. Ropes to pull weight. The boxing ring in the center of it all represents a sport, yes, but in the bigger picture, also a refuge from the realities of what’s outside.

With a Bluetooth in his right ear and a black T-shirt tucked into a pair of workout pants, Ford is the 52-year-old real life inspiration behind the character Cutty from The Wire, a former drug dealer turned neighborhood do-gooder, who speaks softly.

“I call it the gym struggle,” Ford says. “You have some success stories and you have some bad stories. We’re doing all right. If you come in here and work hard, something good can really happen.”

“I’ll be home soon,” Ford’s top protégé and Baltimore’s next potential world champion boxer, 22-year-old Gervonta “Tank” Davis, tells his coach over the phone. The 5-foot-6, 130-pound spark plug is ranked in the top 10 globally in his super featherweight class and has signed a deal with Las Vegas-based Mayweather Promotions.

Normally, Davis would already be here at the boxing center, blocks from where he grew up in the city’s blighted Sandtown neighborhood. Though his name, likeness, and accomplishments are ubiquitous on the Upton walls, Davis is out of town—and out of state—for safety reasons.

Following last summer’s murders of two of his peers in a two-week span—the popular local rapper Lor Scoota and his manager, Trayvon Lee—Davis decided to leave, “before it happened to me,” he says. Two springs ago, he shared the stage with Scoota, born Tyriece Watson, at several city high schools. Positioned as up-and-coming role models, they delivered a message of perseverance after the death of Freddie Gray. On June 25, Watson, 23, was gunned down in his car while leaving an anti-violence, charity basketball game at Morgan State University. Police called it targeted. Lee, 24, was shot and killed 11 days later.

“The people that I was brought up with are either dead or in jail,” Davis says.

As of press time, Davis remained away from his hometown, save a few days here and there. But he vowed to return for training, once his next fight was set.

“Every time you are doing something good,” says Davis’ close friend, 20-year-old top local fighter, Malik “Iceman” Hawkins, “the devil always finds a way to try to stop it.”

Such is the sentiment in the world they come from, one where children, especially boys, face the worst odds of escaping poverty of any major jurisdiction in America, according to a 2015 Harvard University study. The Sandtown neighborhood is where a third of families live in poverty and gang-related violence contributes to the backdrop of 263 citywide homicides as of early November. It’s where Davis bounced around—from his drug-addicted parents’ house to foster care—often sleeping on the floor and fighting in the street during the day, causing a pair of uncles to drag him to the Upton Boxing Gym when he was 8 years old.

“He’s had it rough, but in the ring is where he gets his life,” says his mother, Kenya Brown. “That’s where you see the most emotion and happiness. Gervonta turns into a different person. And his talent, you cannot play it down.”

After a decorated amateur career, with more than 200 wins, Davis is 16-0 as a pro, with 15 knockouts. He is quick, strong, and powerful—and given his small size, the nickname “Tank” befits him. He has only needed to go more than four rounds three times and has performed well in televised bouts on Spike and Showtime. In his most recent fight in June in Hollywood, Florida, Davis ended Mexico’s Mario Rorozco’s night with a right hook 41 seconds in.

“I think he is going to be a world champion,” says sports writer Gary “Digital” Williams, who has covered local boxing for 33 years. “He doesn’t look like he has a lot of power, but he does. He’s a good tactician, very patient, and has quick hands. What’s good about his career, he’s been challenged in certain bouts, and survived. The bright lights don’t seem to get to him.”

Davis is in the spotlight now largely because of people like Ford. There are several dedicated boxing gyms in the city, and more training centers if you count multi-use facilities. Fellow Upton coach Kenny Ellis, plus Marvin McDowell of Umar (a gym on North Avenue), Jake Smith’s Baltimore Boxing Club in Fells Point, and those that came before, like the late and legendary trainer Mack Lewis, have all been integral to the local boxing culture.

In 1994, Vincent Pettway, one of Lewis’ students, became the city’s first world champion in almost 100 years. Then, with one shocking knockout punch in South Africa in 2001, Hasim Rahman, another local boxer and a former enforcer for drug dealers, took the world heavyweight title.

“I started out in the same spot, as a young boxer from Baltimore and really kind of flew under the radar,” Rahman says. “I want there to be the same chances [for this generation]. I want boxing to be a safe haven.” Rahman’s nephew, Lorenzo “Truck” Simpson, 16, is currently the most decorated junior amateur boxer in the country, No. 1 for six years running. He, too, has seen his share of violence. When he was 4, burglars killed his father during a home invasion. An Upton trainee and “captain of the gym,” Ford says, in Davis’ absence, Simpson will try to make the 2020 U.S. Olympic team. “I’m going to go get it,” he says with a bright smile.

“Iceman” Hawkins is considered the area’s second-best young pro behind his friend Davis. Like many young men at the gym, he uses boxing to funnel his anger—in his case over his older brother Domenique’s murder at a Fourth of July cookout on Park Heights Avenue in 2002. An angry kid, Hawkins says he once punched through an opponent’s facemask on the football field.

“At first, I was using boxing as a way to defend myself,” Hawkins says. “Everyone who picked on [you], you got to get them back. As the years progressed, I got them back, but I had one foot in the gym and one foot in the streets, hanging with the wrong people. I wasn’t as focused as I am now.”

The 6-foot welterweight (147 pounds) is 9-0 and already had a televised fight on the CBS Sports Network. He earned his high school diploma through Living Classrooms’ Fresh Start program in 2014.

On the women’s side, Tyrieshia “Lady Tiga” Douglas—who was raised in foster homes with her brother—owns world championship belts as a bantamweight (118 pounds) and a flyweight (112 pounds), and came up one decision short of making the 2012 Olympics.

Up-and-comer Stephon “The Surgeon” Morris trains at Umar and is from the Yale Heights neighborhood, where he and his older brothers work in the family business, delivering medical equipment. At what was just his second professional fight, at the Maryland State Fairgrounds in May, Morris won before a partisan crowd, having sold $25,000 worth of tickets—which bodes well since promoters are always looking for good draws.

Morris was just seeking a good outlet. “People don’t understand how hard it is to stay on the straight and narrow path. Rest in peace to all my friends I’ve lost the past year,” he says. “Six or seven friends died, then I got a few in jail. It hurts to be able to say that, because they didn’t make the same decision I did.”

“Before I had one foot in the gym and one foot in the streets.”

Coach Ford has fought from both corners. He’s been at Upton since 2003, and before that volunteered at Herring Run Recreation Center—where he enrolled his son—while climbing the ladder to a managerial position with Phillips Seafood.

But previously, he spent 10 years in federal prison serving a racketeering and conspiracy conviction and was a kingpin in one of the city’s biggest drug rings in Lexington Terrace. The ring included boxer Reggie Gross, who in 1986 fought Mike Tyson. While in prison, Ford earned his GED certificate and learned the nuances of boxing from Gross and others. Ed Burns, the former police detective who once investigated Ford and became a writer for The Wire, brought him to life on TV. Other stories were based on Ford’s crew.

“I know what you’ve been through—and more,” Ford has told his top prospect Davis.

Articles taped on the walls of Ford’s Upton office show the reality of his current tale.

The headlines: “Fighting to Save Themselves From the Streets,” “Amateurs to Talk With Fists,” “Upton’s Tank Davis Is On the Rise,” “Douglas Makes Pro Debut,” are juxtaposed with pictures of those who have passed. Angelo Ward, a super featherweight who allegedly sold drugs near the gym, was killed in 2012. Ronald “Rock” Gibbs, a promising Olympic hopeful, was stabbed to death at the age of 17, after intervening in an incident involving his sister.

This dichotomy can even be seen in two of Ford’s sons. There is Rayquan, 14, a promising boxer and trainee at the gym. Then there’s Quaadir, who was killed in July 2013 in New Jersey, where he had moved and allegedly became a drug crew leader. Quaadir was a friend of Davis, and he and Ford grieved together.

“They helped each other,” Davis’ mother says. “Calvin was going through losing his son, and Gervonta was going there because he needed somebody in his life.”

Ford mentored Davis, giving him equipment and clothes, checking in on him at school, providing money, punishing him when needed, and convincing his grandmother to let him keep coming to the gym.

Davis, in turn, remained committed. He won the 2012 Golden Gloves nationals at 123 pounds, fulfilling his end of a deal with Ford to turn pro. Davis’ eyes lit up at the $500 earned for his first pro fight.

“I was younger than everybody. I was looking at their mistakes,” he says. “I want to be a world champion, make money to help my family, my friends, my team. Because we are one. Without them, there’s no me. But there’s more work to be done.”

That work continues in the Upton Boxing gym this evening, where a kid they call “The Brutal Machine,” Nieem Somerville of Odenton, is putting in time, exhaling with every punch and combination. He is 10.

“Truck” Simpson, the decorated junior and Olympic hopeful not yet out of high school, gravitates toward Somerville and sees something good in his future, just like Ford’s son did for Davis and Davis did for Simpson. The youngster shuffles along the ropes, practicing defense. During a break in sparring, an excited Ford guides Somerville to a corner.

“What’s your job?” Ford asks him.

“To be better than Truck and Tank,” the kid responds.

Let’s just let him say it:

The contents of the tweet refer to 130-pound world boxing champion Gervonta Davis’ next fight, which is being planned for July in Baltimore, Mayweather Promotions CEO Leonard Ellerbe told reporters in Las Vegas last Saturday night.

“I’m very, very excited for him to bring a big fight home,” Ellerbe said of the 24-year-old who got his boxing start at the city-funded Upton Boxing Center in West Baltimore and is now 21-0 with 20 knockouts as a professional. “We’re working on it now and it’s going to be a great event.”

The details—like opponent, venue, and date—are not yet official, but BoxingScene.com, a leading news website of the sport, said Davis is expected to fight Saturday, July 27 at Royal Farms Arena in a bout that Showtime will broadcast.

A fight with Ukranian champion Vasyl Lomachenko, who competes one division above Davis as a lightweight and is arguably the top pound-for-pound fighter in the sport, is one that many boxing observers want to see, but the 15,000-seat “chicken box” doesn’t seem to be the place for what would be a high-profile, Vegas casino-headlining bout. Former champion Yuriorkis Gamboa and Ricardo Nunez were also named as potential opponents and seem more likely.

No matter who Davis fights, an event in Baltimore would mark an exciting homecoming and one of the area’s biggest sporting events of the year. The 5-foot-6 sparkplug hasn’t competed in a sanctioned bout here since he won the International Boxing Federation world super featherweight title in January 2017, and he hasn’t competed at all in Baltimore since his fourth pro fight six years ago.

That means this fight is likely to draw many local fans, who can also expect to see other area boxers on the undercard, including Davis’ Upton Boxing Center stablemate Lorenzo Simpson, a source tells Baltimore, another rising star who turned pro near the end of 2018.

Davis’ celebrity status has risen recently since he became a world champion two years ago with a win over Jose Pedraza at Barclays Center in Brooklyn. He has fought multiple times on television, including on the undercard of his mentor Floyd Mayweather’s multi-million dollar pay-per-view draw against mixed-martial-arts star Conor McGregor in August 2017. Davis also now has an eight-month-old daughter.

But he’s had setbacks, too. Davis failed to make weight before that undercard fight and lost his IBF world title, and has had a few run-ins with the law. He faced an assault charge from a childhood friend in 2017 that was later dropped, and he will appear in Virginia’s Fairfax County District Court on May 6 to face a misdemeanor assault charge in connection with an alleged altercation on February 17 at a Virginia mall. He addressed the issue here, saying “I’m eager to put this matter behind me and continue my career.”

In Davis’ last fight, he defended his World Boxing Association super featherweight championship with a first-round knockout of Mexico’s Hugo Ruiz on February 9 in Carson, California. It was a quick work night that’s been typical of the lefty power-puncher’s professional bouts.

After that match, Davis spoke about his desire to fight in front of his hometown fans sometime this year. It appears that time is this summer.

“It’s long overdue . . . I’m excited,” Davis said then. “We actually have a lot of great talent in Baltimore, so I would like for all my young brothers that’s coming up behind me to fight on my card, show that Baltimore, we have a lot of talent. I’m excited to fight in front of my people, excited to show that there’s not only the Ravens and the Orioles, that I’m also big like that.”

Simpson, 19, the nephew of former heavyweight champion of the world, Baltimore’s Hasim Rahman, went pro in December 2018 after a highly decorated amateur career in which he went 182-3.

As a pro, Simpson is 3-0 record with two knockouts and has made a few highlights already . . .

Before July, he will fight Ahmed Elbiali (18-1, 15 knockouts) on May 11 in a four-round light heavyweight bout in Fairfax, Virginia, that will air on Fox Sports 1.

We featured Davis—nicknamed “Tank,” and Simpson, his taller, younger protégé, who goes by “Truck”—in December 2016, chronicling the pair as part of a look at the Upton Boxing Center. It’s led by Calvin Ford, the former drug dealer turned neighborhood do-gooder, and inspiration for the character Cutty from The Wire, who mentored Davis throughout his formative years.

Ford continues to coach both Davis and Simpson, and plenty of other kids at 1901 Pennsylvania Avenue, who will no doubt be among those excited for the expected summer homecoming fight headlined by Davis, the city’s top boxing star.

Gervonta “Tank” Davis Signs Deal with Under Armour
This is cool. World IBF junior lightweight champion Gervonta Davis, who just defended his title in convincing fashion Monday with a third-round TKO of Britain’s Liam Walsh, has inked a deal with Under Armour. To announce the partnership, Under Armour unveiled a billboard of Davis on I-95. It’s a particularly cool billboard, because Davis isn’t in the ring or even crouched with his fists up in a classic boxer’s pose. Instead, he’s standing in West Baltimore, looking contemplative but determined, row homes behind him, his elaborate neck tattoo in full view. The billboard reads: “Gervonta ‘Tank’ Davis: Baltimore’s Own.”

Dennis Pitta hosts The Bachelorette viewing party.
This is the greatest thing we’ve ever seen. We’re not sure what our favorite part is, Justin Tucker admitting he’s the Whaboom guy (“I would hope that I’m not the Whaboom guy, but I think I might be the Whaboom guy”); Joe Flacco doubling over in laughter as a be-aproned Dennis Pitta brings out his freshly made cinnamon buns; or Pitta proving that real men can love reality TV dating shows when he says, “A lot of football players wants to act like they’re too cool and tough to watch shows like this. Not us.” This is pure gold.

Jones breaks Camden Yards home run record
It hasn’t been a particularly great few weeks for the Orioles (understatement alert), but there is at least one reason to celebrate: Adam Jones, team captain, center fielder, Twitter foodie, and all-around awesome dude has broken the home run record at Camden Yards. He hit his 125th Camden Yards dinger on Monday, a no-doubt-about-it blast to left field against the Twins. (The Orioles went on to lose the game in frustrating fashion, but let’s focus on the positive.) Congrats, Adam!

 Justin Jackson is back
You can exhale now, Terps fans. Forward Justin Jackson, arguably the strongest member of a trio of superb freshmen who helped lead the Terps to the NCAA tournament last season, has removed his name from draft consideration and will be returning to the team next season. Whew!

Michael Phelps teasing us again?
Is it weird that we don’t want Michael Phelps in the 2020 Olympics? It’s not that we don’t love the guy—we do. We just don’t want to mess with the perfection of what he’s already accomplished. That being said, dude keeps “joking” about a 2020 run. First, on April Fool’s he tweeted. “Some goals/dreams you just can’t get rid of…been doing a lot of thinking n I’ve decided that I’m going 2 make another comeback! #tokyo2020.” Okay, that was funny. But then, just this week he posted a photo of himself and fellow Olympiad Grant Hackett to Instagram, with the caption, “Just two old dudes getting back in the pool…2020?” Then he followed that up with a Tweet that linked to the ’Gram post and added, “A little rusty . . . nah, still got it!” One joke is funny. Two jokes are intriguing. But three jokes? We’re just saying.

Star Fighters

December 11, 2016
Lloyd Street

“How many people know who Benny Leonard was?” Mike Silver asks the crowd gathered at the Jewish Museum of Maryland. “Benny Leonard was the most famous Jewish person in America in the 1920s. Not Albert Einstein. Not Justice Louis Brandeis.”

Leonard, explains Silver, author of Stars in the Ring: Jewish Champions in the Golden Age of Boxing, fought his way out of Manhattan’s East Side ghetto to become one of the great boxers of all time during the Roaring ’20s, holding the lightweight title for nearly seven years. “He quit to take care of his sick mother. How Jewish is that?”

In his book, Silver chronicles 29 Jewish world champion boxers and more than 160 contenders from the 1890s-1950s, including a half-dozen Baltimore brawlers—welterweights Jacob “Jack” Portney and Benny Goldstein, flyweight Benny Schwartz, middleweight Sylvan Bass, and lightweights Charley Gomer and Isadore “Izzy” Rainess. Silver also gives a shout-out to legendary trainer Heine Blaustein. “Baltimore was a great fight town,” Silver says.

It wasn’t unusual in those days, Silver continues, for Jewish boxers to change their name. Not because of anti-Semitism, but family (read: mother’s) disapproval of the sport. Leonard was really Leiner, for example. Often, Jewish fighters switched ethnic identities altogether, killing two birds with one stone by trying to appeal to the sport’s huge Irish fan base.

“My uncle was Baltimore welterweight Patsy Lewis—that’s pretty Irish. His real name was Julius Rosenbloom,” volunteers Jerry Russ, 81, who went to the fights with his father at the old Baltimore Coliseum. Carlin’s Park was another popular venue.

At a time when boxing and baseball were the country’s biggest draws, fighting wasn’t just a means to make money for working-class immigrants—a four-round bout could pull in the same pay as a week in a sweatshop—it was also a means of assimilation and pride for Jews.

“Einstein, brilliant scientist, but who understands the theory of relativity? Brandeis, brilliant justice, but how many people read Supreme Court decisions?” Silver asks. “A punch in the nose? That, everybody understands.”

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Beer Run

December 3, 2016
North Belnord Avenue

Former University of Maryland, Baltimore County cross country star Eric Shuler won this morning’s 5K through Patterson Park in convincing fashion, posting a time of 16:39—more than two minutes faster than his closest rival. But now the real competition is underway as more than 400 runners quench their thirst in the schoolyard behind Patterson Park Public Charter School. Here, 21 home-brewers are chatting about hops and recipes, pitting their kitchen, basement, and garage-brewed ales against one another while vying for today’s biggest title: Best Homebrew.

The Patterson Park 5K, Fun Run, and Homebrew Tasting—this is the beer-making competition’s third year—supports the school’s effort to send students to Spanish-speaking countries where they can practice the language they’ve been studying.

Most of the beer makers acknowledge their brewing evolved pretty quickly from hobby to near-obsession. “I liked to drink beer, that’s how I got started,” laughs (the aptly named) Stephen Porr, who eventually opened The Grain Bill, a family-run, home-brew supply store in Red Lion, Pennsylvania. “It went downhill from there.”

In the end, Darren Stimpfle, a surgical physician’s assistant by profession, sweeps both the Crowd Favorite and Brewer’s Choice awards with his dry-hopped, golden sour ale with apricot. Stimpfle, who spends eight hours each Friday brewing at home, is developing a business plan to sell his beer commercially. “I’m the runner and he’s the brewer and I support him—I really do,” says his wife, Shannon Gibbons, who took third place in the 5K’s 30-34 age group. “We went to Belgium on vacation and visited the Cantillon Brewery in Brussels three times. Naturally, I wanted to go to Paris and we did,” she adds with wry cheerfulness. “For two days.”

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Christmas Stories

December 17, 2016
Eastern Avenue

“The year after my grandmother died I went looking for the spirit of Christmas on Eastern Avenue,” Rafael Alvarez says, reciting the first sentence from his 1999 book, Hometown Boy, at the 10th Annual Highlandtown Literary Extravaganza at the Enoch Pratt Southeast Anchor Library.

“Eastern Avenue,” Alvarez, an occasional contributor to Baltimore, explains, “was where you bought your first communion clothes before the Eastpoint Mall. It was where you shopped for everything.”

Alvarez launched his holiday storytelling, music, deviled egg, and pizelle festival after returning from Hollywood, where he wrote for TV following a stint penning episodes of The Wire. The crowd over the years has been a mix of friends, family, musicians, writers—including Afaa Michael Weaver, a former Procter and Gamble factory worker who has become one of the country’s foremost poets—and Highlandtowners who come to hear “real Baltimore” tales. Before intermission, Alvarez asks audience members to share their own Christmas stories, which mostly yields sagas of sibling rivalry and poor decisions.

David Ettlin, a retired Baltimore Sun editor, jokes his parents never bothered with a Christmas tree during the holidays while he was growing up. “We’re Jewish,” Ettlin deadpans. Determined to get a tree after marrying a Methodist, but not wanting to shell out big bucks, Ettlin hatched a plan with his wife—against the advice of their teenage daughter—to sneak into the woods together and cut down a live pine.

“All of a sudden, there’s a patch of mud and Bonnie does a flip and fractures her wrist horribly,” Ettlin continues. At the emergency room, he learns there will be a $50 copay for the orthopedic surgeon and then an additional $10 for a generic painkiller, or $35 for the brand name. “I feel guilty and go with the brand name,” Ettlin says. “But what I’m thinking is, ‘I’m out $85 and still don’t have a damn tree.’”

Ravens owner Steve Bisciotti says team will continue to pass on players with domestic violence history. 
Watching from afar, it was unclear who asked the question during the Ravens’ annual State of the Team press conference on Tuesday in Owings Mills, but kudos. It came not in these exact words, but team owner Steve Bisciotti answered as if it did. More than two years after video surfaced that turned Ray Rice from a loveable small-sized hero to a toxic, unemployable running back, are the Ravens still staying 100 yards away from drafting or signing players with questionable pasts, or nebulous “character issues”?

“Character is a pretty big pot,” Bisciotti said, “but some people we’re going to take off our board. That’s the way it goes. Domestic abuse? Not taking them. Kansas City is in the playoffs, partly because of a guy they took a chance on. Will we take chances like that again? I don’t think so.”

In the razor-thin, competitive, and big money NFL environment, the approach can make a difference. The Ravens had an 8-8 record with nine games decided by six or fewer points and . . . we all know what happened in the Steelers game on Christmas. As the Ravens self-made billionaire owner noted, Chiefs rookie wide receiver Tyreek Hill, who in 2015 pleaded guilty to beating his pregnant girlfriend while in college at Oklahoma State, has been a key player as Kansas City grabbed the second seed in the AFC postseason. In the name of winning, teams take calculated, if not morally questionable, risks. “It does [come up] all the time,” Bisciotti said, like with talented Oklahoma running back Joe Mixon in December (who, like Rice, was caught on tape).

The Ravens aren’t going there. Even with “the pitchforks,” out from fans, after a second straight playoff-less year, as the owner acknowledged during the 30-question, 70-minute media session. Bisciotti, general manager Ozzie Newsome, and coach John Harbaugh primarily fielded questions about how the team can improve.

“We need to get more out of Joe [Flacco],” Bisciotti said in one of the answers, which were typically measured and reasonable, and also included mention of a potential ticket price increase for next season.

West Baltimore boxer Gervonta Davis gets first world championship shot Saturday. 
As we wrote in the December issue, 23-year-old West Baltimore-native and up-and-coming boxer Gervonta “Tank” Davis was waiting for his first world championship title shot. He will get it on Saturday night at Barclays Center in Brooklyn, New York, against Puerto Rico’s Jose Pedraza, the IBF super featherweight (130-pound) champion.

Davis, a relatively small 5-foot-6 lefty, is pound-for-pound strong with amazingly quick hands and a remarkable backstory. He trains out of Upton Boxing Gym on Pennsylvania Ave., under the mentorship of coach Calvin Ford—the inspiration for The Wire character, Cutty—and has endured all kinds of rough situations, with drug-addicted parents for starters. Ford’s been a father figure, Upton a refuge.

“I dedicate this fight to my team,” Davis said Thursday at a press conference in New York. “I’m no Mike Tyson, Floyd Mayweather, or Sugar Ray Leonard. I’m Gervonta Davis, and on January 14th, I will become a world champion.”

Saturday night’s fight will air live at 9:30 p.m. on Showtime. Watch early. Davis usually makes quick work of opponents. He’s 16-0 with 15 knockouts, 13 coming within the first four rounds, and is promising something similar this time around against the more experienced, taller Pedraza. If Davis wins, he will be Baltimore’s fourth world champion boxer; the others are Joe Gans, who owned the world lightweight title during the time of segregation more than 100 years ago, Vincent Pettway (1994) and Hasim Rahman (2001).

Orioles have a minicamp in Florida.

It’s not much, but just the sight of the Orioles black-and-orange uniforms under sunny skies makes winter feel a tad warmer. (And it really was yesterday!)

The start of spring training is the traditional sign that baseball season is near. Minicamp? Not so much. Not many major league teams even have them, but the Orioles have the last few years under Buck Showalter, who finds the time valuable. He and a small gang of players had a three-day camp in Sarasota, Florida, this week, mainly to evaluate those coming off injuries, and to look at a few of the organization’s minor league pitchers who are a bit more off the radar, but may be factors come the six-month, 162-game slog that is a major league baseball season.

Minicamp did not appear too stressful for veteran players like Chris Tillman, the O’s top hurler. Guys like him aren’t the focus. Select prospects are. Here Tillman, alongside Showalter and the team’s new pitching coach, Roger McDowell, watches young pitchers Garrett Cleavinger and Brian Gonzalez throw.

One pitcher not there? Yovanni Gallardo, who the Orioles traded to Seattle last Friday in exchange for corner outfielder Seth Smith. Gallardo went 6-8 last year with a 5.32 ERA in 23 starts, and spent a good amount of time on the disabled list with shoulder issues. Smith is a veteran, 34-year-old left-hand hitting outfielder, something the O’s needed (with Mark Trumbo gone, for now). Last season, while his batting average wasn’t spectacular (.249), Smith played in 137 games, had an on-base percentage of .342, hit 16 home runs, and a career-high 63 RBIs. Fun fact: Smith, a Mississippi native and multi-sport athlete, was Eli Manning’s backup quarterback at Ole Miss in the early 2000s.

Just 32 days until spring training and less than two months until Opening Day at Camden Yards. Not that we’re counting.

Terps win, Terps win!
With a 75-72 win over Indiana on national TV on Tuesday night, the Maryland men’s basketball team improved to 15-2 and 3-1 in the Big Ten, and should enter national top-25 polls early next week. The hero of their latest triumph? That would be 6-foot-7, 190-pound ginger-headed freshman guard Kevin Huerter. Call him Big Red. The former Mr. Basketball from New York, who had a late growth spurt in high school, sank a go-ahead three-pointer with just under two minutes left then grabbed a rebound and fed fellow freshman Anthony Cowan with a long pass to give Maryland a three-point lead with 1:12 to go. Fight on, turtles!

Homemade  

November 2, 2013
East Lombard Street

Looking through Attman’s Delicatessen’s counter window—the first stop on Baltimore Heritage’s Bakeries and Immigration tour—catering concierge Elaine Gershberg calls attention to the “coddies” stacked near the lox, bagels, all-beef hot dogs, and salami. Observant Jews don’t eat shellfish, and the codfish, Old Bay, and potato treat, Gershberg explains, “became known as the Jewish crab cake.”

“This used to be Corned Beef Row,” she tells the group gathered in Attman’s Kibbitz Room, adding Lombard Street out front used to travel one-way in the opposite direction, then got turned around by a politically connected former delicatessen owner intent on moving his store from last to first on the once well-trod thoroughfare.

“There were seven delis on this street,” she says, gesturing toward the Lloyd Street Synagogue, the country’s third-oldest standing synagogue and now home to the Jewish Museum of Maryland. “Horseradish Lane, where my family, the Tulkoff’s, made horseradish, was across the street.”

The tour continues at DiPasquale’s on Gough Street, established 100 years ago and also still family-owned, where the group orders espresso, homemade pine-nut cookies called pignoli, and fresh bread and focaccia to carry home.

“The original Esskay’s was down the street and used to run their hogs through this alley,” says Joe DiPasquale, whose grandfather arrived from the small Italian town of Corropoli to work on the railroad, but ended up opening an Italian market in heavily German Highlandtown. “No one knows why he settled here,” DiPasquale laughs.

At Hoehn’s Bakery on Conkling Street 61-year-old Sharon Hoehn Hooper welcomes everyone into the bakery founded by her grandfather in 1927—the same year the massive brick-oven hearth, nicknamed “the Duchess” and still in daily use, was embedded into a kitchen wall. Hooper began finishing and filling donuts here when she was 12.

“After high school, I’d gotten a clerical job at an insurance agency, which I liked and paid well. Then somebody quit and my father asked me to come back. He said, ‘I’ll match what they’re paying you, plus free room and board.’

“That was it,” she says with a smile. “That was as close as I got to getting out.”

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Fight Club

November 16, 2013
West Bay Avenue

The  William J. Myers Pavilion is normally an indoor soccer venue, but tonight there’s a boxing ring at midfield, surrounded by cafeteria tables, folding chairs, and several hundred fans, mostly clenching cans of beer, here for what’s billed as the “Festival of Fists,” Olympic-style bouts pitting amateur Baltimore fighters against Pittsburgh pugilists.

Boxers from Fells Point’s Baltimore Boxing Club and Pennsylvania Avenue’s Upton Boxing Center win two of the first four bouts. Next, climbing between the ropes for the fifth fight, is the youngest boxer on the card—5-foot-1 Adrianne Stedding, a 12-year-old from Dundalk in her first real fight. She starts all three rounds with big overhand rights and acquits herself well, but ultimately loses the decision to her taller, 13-year-old opponent. Asked how she felt stepping into the ring, she’s honest: “Scared.”

Later, in the featured heavyweight bout, Sam Crossed—a 26-year-old bartender by day—drops Pittsburgh’s Darnell Daniel in the second round with a powerful right hook behind the ear. Crossed, a 198-pounder who knocked out his last opponent in four seconds and is nicknamed the “Vanilla Gorilla,” attracts a coterie of female fans afterward. With blue eyes, chiseled chin, cropped sideburns—and a still unblemished mug—he’s almost too handsome for a fighter, particularly one with professional aspirations. “Yeah, I’ve heard that,” he admits with an embarrassed grin. “For now, maybe.”

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Sci-Fi Channel

November 23, 2013
East Baltimore Street

For the 50th anniversary episode of Doctor Who, the iconic BBC television series about an adventurous alien in human form—a time-and-space-traveling good “doctor”—120 friends of the Baltimore Science Fiction Society squeeze into the old Aldine Theatre. Closed since 1954 because of the advent of TV—and home to the society since 1991—the Formstone, former fourth-run movie house makes a cozy venue for the 94-country simulcast of the “Day of the Doctor.”  Some 11,000  science-fiction volumes, stacked high in bookshelves, plus DVDs and board games, ring the viewing area—currently filled with folding chairs and a rowdy audience.

In hosting the Doctor Who event (devotees are referred to as “Whovians”), the sci-fi nonprofit—founded in 1963—naturally hopes to attract a few new members. Social media coordinator Alexander Harris highlights, for example, the group’s regional Balticon convention, the Ray Gun book club, game days, and writing workshops. And, in three weeks, the annual holiday decorating of “the Dalek”—a 6-foot-6, papier-mâché and plastic replica of an extraterrestrial cyborg race from, coincidentally, Doctor Who.

“A compromise between our Christian and Jewish members about a dozen years ago,” Dale Arnold explains. “It’s not the holidays until the Dalek is decorated.”