HERE it is St. Patrick's Day again, and I kind of wish it was 1959. Boxing could use
someone like FlatleyIt was one of the years my late father (he was of French-Canadian ancestry) and mother (her father was from County Leitrim and her maternal grandfather from County Clare) would put my sister and me in the back of the Ford station wagon and drive 20 miles south on Route 3 from Billerica to Boston.
We'd pull up at one of the now-demolished stage theaters and step into the nippy night air. Inside the theater, we'd listen to the eye-moistening ballads of Carmel Quinn, a native Irish songstress who became a household name on the Lawrence Welk Show. Her long red hair and the Kelly green gown she wore made her an incredible feast for the eyes.
After an interlude of wry Irish humor (fit for the nuns to applaud, of course), we sat mesmerized by the footwork of the step-dancers.
Arms rigidly parallel with the sides of their bodies, their legs took on a separate nature -- an electric nature that just grabbed our attention and refused to let go.
There was something powerful, commanding about the sound of the shoes hitting the floor in unison, a haunting thunder that seemed to summon the ghosts of our Celtic ancestry.
AS we grew older, my father stopped taking us into Boston on St. Patrick's Day. I seldom saw step-dancing after that, and it remained in my mind as an ancient Gaelic art that would never make its way into mainstream entertainment.
Then, Michael Flatley exploded on to the scene and personified a link between two of an Irishman's greatest passions: Sports and the arts.
Flatley, who was born on the south side of Chicago, was a Golden Gloves boxer before he became the first American to win Irish dancing's premier award and set a world record for taps in a second (28 -- yes that's right).
Sure, we all know what a cocky, arrogant millionaire image the guy has developed now that he's an entertainment superstar.
But Flatley possesses an undeniable appeal as a throwback to a simpler era when men were men, and they weren't so worried about their identity that they couldn't express themselves with style and artistry.
Flatley does it with gusto and you can see the boxer's body english every time he steps on stage.
Any kid who's ever had the word "footwork" drilled into him time and again ought to watch the "Riverdance" or "Lord of the Dance" videotapes in which Flatley performs to see how a boxer's feet can move.
CHECK out the fight choreography in Lord of the Dance where Flatley, at 40-plus, makes you believe he could still go a strong five or six rounds.
Right down to the antagonistic facial expressions he casts at his arch-rival, the guy still looks every inch a fighter.
We really haven't seen a lot of artistry in the ring since Ali retired.
It was beautiful to watch a guy who knew how to use his feet as well as his torso to wage combat on the canvass. There are too many lethargic Kodiak bears pawing each other in the game these days.
I'd sure rather have a character like Flatley wear a shamrock on his trunks than a chump like "Irish" Peter McNeeley.
It would be great if Flatley's awesome maneuverability set a new standard in the ring.
So, in my wild St. Patrick's Day meandering, I suggest to Flatley that since he's planning to hang up his step-dancing boots soon, maybe he ought to step back into the ring, and this time as a pro.
He's bound to be faster than Foreman or Holmes.