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A Glove Story Under founder and owner Joe Pedrojetti, the Bulldog Boxing Club has flourished By DON HUNT No one has yet to show up for work, and yet the southeast corner of the vast building is filled with several dozen young boys at 6:30 a.m. They are here to work out under the watchful eye of 52-year-old Joe Pedrojetti, the founder, co-owner and co-manager of the Bulldog Boxing Club. Most people in the community know Pedrojetti as the owner of Joseph Winans Furniture - the friendly, bespectacled man who appears on television screens doing his own ads. What they don't know is that Pedrojetti and his son, Jimmy, spend hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars to run the boxing club. What began as two boys working out in a small gym in Phoenix has evolved into more than 100 kids hitting bags, jumping rope, lifting weights and sparring in the corner of the warehouse. The boys have won all kinds of matches and championships since the club opened in September 1995. More importantly, thanks to the Pedrojettis, they have won self-respect, gained self-esteem and established the kind of self-discipline that will serve them well in adulthood. "I can't say enough about that club - Joe and Jimmy are wonderful mentors to those boys," says Shirley Wilson, whose son Mike has blossomed into one of the top amateur heavyweight boxers in the country. "If it wasn't for Joe and Jimmy, I'm not sure my son would have graduated (from Crater High School last month). They gave him the structure and discipline he needed." The club has also given Wilson something big to shoot for: the 2004 Summer Olympics in Athens, Greece. The 6-foot-3, 230-pound Wilson was an alternate on the 2000 United States Olympic team at the age of 17. He spent most of last summer at Olympic training sites in Colorado Springs, Colo., and Tacoma, Wash., and journeyed to Hungary for an exhibition match. "If I'm not in the gym working out every day, then it feels like something's wrong," Wilson says. "Boxing is the big reason I get out of bed in the morning." * * * If Wilson is the Wheaties Box poster boy for the club - he's received the most publicity of any of the fighters - then Lionel Leon is the behind-the-scenes success story. When Leon arrived in Medford from Chula Vista, Calif., five years ago at the age of 15, he was a petty thief, a gang member and an unmotivated student with third-grade reading skills. But he had a sparkle in his eyes that tugged at the heartstrings of Frances Pedrojetti, Joe's wife and an adolescent advocate in her own right. Leon had been staying with Ernie Johnson, a trainer who had come to Medford to help the Pedrojettis run the club. When Johnson got ready to head back to California, Frances insisted that Leon move in with her and Joe. He did, and he's still there. "Where I come from, no one would think of taking in a complete stranger," says Leon, who turns 21 next month. "That blew me away. For all they (Joe and Frances) knew, I could have been the biggest criminal in the world. "But they took me in with open arms. It was the biggest blessing of my life." Leon didn't do anything horrible in Southern California. But he belonged to a gang and once stole a stereo out of a car. One of his best friends was stabbed to death and one of his uncles was shot to death. "You almost had to belong to a gang or you wouldn't be protected," he says. "You would get picked on at school. "My parents did their best to provide for us (Leon has an older brother and a younger sister), but the environment was bad." Leon skipped school more often than he went. That scenario changed when he moved in with the Pedrojettis, who insisted he go to class and that he enroll at the Sylvan Reading Center in Medford. In less than two years, he went from a third-grade to a ninth-grade reading level. "It was tough at first, but Joe and Frances would sit with me and help me do my homework," Leon says. "Reading, English, math - everything. "I used to hate school. I was always scared the teacher would call on me and I would sound stupid. But by the time I graduated (from North Medford High in 1998), I liked school." Leon has worked in the furniture store almost from the day he moved into the Pedrojetti home. He has worked his way up to the lead delivery person. * * * Not all members of the Bulldog Boxing Club flourish outside the ring. For every Wilson and Leon, there is someone like Troy Wohosky, who has gotten into skirmishes at school and found himself in other trouble. But Joe Pedrojetti isn't about to give up on Wohosky, who might have earned a gold medal at the Junior Olympic National Tournament last weekend had he not gotten injured. As it was, he came home with a bronze. "He's a sweet-spirited kid and he might be the most talented boxer in our program," says Joe Pedrojetti, a former two-time national collegiate champion at the University of Nevada-Reno. "So many of our kids are the ones who have fallen through society's cracks. They have no vision and no goals. We just keep working with them and hope and pray they see the light." If Pedrojetti learns that a certain boxer is struggling in school, he calls their teachers and counselors. Oftentimes, the boxer's progress reports and report cards go directly to Pedrojetti. "The younger kids respond the best," he says. "If we can get to them by the sixth or seventh grade, then we've got a fighting chance. Otherwise, it's hard." * * * Given the club's huge popularity, it's hard to imagine that it began in spontaneous fashion. It got its roots in the early part of 1995 when Joe Pedrojetti conducted a clinic for Hector and Fransua Moncada, a couple of Honduran children whose mother was having trouble containing their high energy. Once the eight-week class ended, Pedrojetti bid farewell to his days as a boxing instructor - or so he thought. But several people had noticed him teaching the class at Superior Athletic Club and asked if he could put on another clinic for their children. Pedrojetti took the half-dozen new kids to a small boxing gym in Phoenix. He soon realized more space was needed. While he searched for a bigger building, Jimmy Pedrojetti had an idea: Why not use a corner of the warehouse? "Dad worried about kids getting hurt with all the forklifts running around," Jimmy says, "but once we put up walls and made our own area it was a pretty nice gym." And it got nicer. Numerous organizations and businesses donated material and labor that led to a new weight room being installed, an overhead heater being erected and a new bathroom going in. An Olympic-sized ring is the feature piece in a setting that also includes heavy bags and speed bags hanging from opposite walls and photographs and newspaper articles sprucing up other areas. No one is turned away for a lack of money - the Pedrojettis don't charge for belonging to the club. "All you need is $5 for a handwrap and a mouthpiece," Joe says, "and if that's a problem, we'll find you an extra one." * * * The Pedrojettis are ardent Christians and proud of it. And while they don't try to shovel their faith down the boxers' throats, they don't hide it, either. Each practice and each match begins with a prayer, and a man named George Villon leads a bible study every Tuesday. Villon once lived on the streets of Los Angeles and survived a brutal stabbing. "The YMCA's motto about building a strong mind, body and spirit is right in line with what we believe in," Joe Pedrojetti says. "I'm a follower of Christ. I'm a believer, and the best way to show the kids how to lead their lives is to lead a good life yourself." * * * Given the sinister reputation that boxing has in many corners of the world, not to mention its seemingly barbaric nature, the Pedrojettis might seem like an odd family to promote it. After all, isn't the intent of the sport to inflict physical harm on your opponent? To knock him down, and out, if possible? "Most people don't understand this, but a boxing gym is actually a place of peace and love," Joe Pedrojetti says. "And that's one of the things that attracts kids." Pedrojetti is also quick to point out that amateur matches last only three rounds and that success is determined not by power but by scoring. Amateur boxers are also given standing eight counts whenever they've been rattled. The Bulldog club has had roughly 800 matches in its five-year history, and only two fighters have suffered technical knockouts. None has actually been knocked unconscious. "One of the best things that boxing does is channel a kid's aggression," Joe Pedrojetti says. "Boxing teaches a kid to control his emotions. If you don't control your emotions in the ring, you'll get out-pointed." * * * The Bulldog boxers don't get out-pointed very often. Most of them have winning records and a host of them have claimed state and regional championships. But as anyone affiliated with the club knows, it's the success outside the ring that ultimately will measure the boxers. "They're molding these kids from the inside out," Shirley Wilson says of the Pedrojettis. "They truly care about each and every one." Reach reporter Don Hunt at 776-4469, or e-mail dhunt@mailtribune.com |
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