Sweeter than ‘Sugar’
Wearing a belt, Forrest found his advances toward De La Hoya rebuffed, so he went after his former amateur foe who had just upset “The Golden Boy” in 2000: Mosley.
Even in his position as pound-for-pound No. 1, Mosley had found that beating “the man” doesn’t make you “the man,” settling for three obscure title defenses before he saw Forrest chiding him at a post-fight news conference. Staging a rematch of their Olympic Trials bout as professional unbeatens struck Mosley as the publicity boost his career needed.
“Ok, Vernon, I’ll fight you,” Mosley declared.
Mosley emphasized his “A” side status by donning red, white and blue trunks like Apollo Creed. Forrest kept it simple and savage. Black trunks, cornrow hair, determined expression at the opening bell.
An accidental head-butt caused a cut that bothered Mosley early in the second round, and Forrest pounced. He battered him with flurries punctuated by hard right hands to score two second-round knockdowns en route to a wide unanimous-decision victory that made Forrest the WBC champion.
“With the (nearly 4-inch) height difference, he was like Deontay Wilder with that ability to get the right hand in,” Mosley said. “Me fighting at lightweight for so long, I was used to fighting guys either shorter or the same height as me.
“That was the one thing I didn’t overcome in the first fight, and it still gave me problems in the second because he’d wrap me up with a forklift type of defense, getting both of his arms under mine, raising my hand so I couldn’t really punch. That was a great strategy.”
Those high-profile victories made Forrest the 2002 Fighter of the Year and positioned him for a lucrative shot at two-belt 154-pound champion De La Hoya.
Shields recalls Haymon advising Forrest, “That’s the best fight for you. If you beat Oscar, you can give up the welterweight title, stay at 154 and you’ll be the king there.”
But Forrest admired unified light-heavyweight champion Roy Jones Jr., and Jones suggested Forrest could elevate himself further for De La Hoya by trying to unify the glamorous welterweight division.
“It doesn’t work that way,” Shields recalls Haymon telling Forrest. “Oscar’s the main man right now. He’s going to make all the money.”
Forrest considered it, then returned to his push for a unification against Nicaraguan madman Mayorga, telling Haymon and Shields, “Roy’s right. If I unify, I’ll make more money.”
Training camp for Mayorga was a nightmare because Forrest had taken his Mosley profits to start a limousine service, banking on big business connected to that year’s NBA All-Star Game in Atlanta.
“I’m wrapping his hands and he’s on the phone, cussing at his guys over the cars,” Shields recalls. “Him and I would get into it every day.”
Veteran Olympic coach Al Mitchell assisted Shields, and the wise trainers would plead with Forrest, “Pay attention to what we’re telling you. Don’t take this guy lightly. Do your business after the fight.”
“Don’t worry,” Forrest would respond. “It’s not going to be a hard fight for me. It’s going to be OK.”
The hell-bent Mayorga unleashed a furious attack and stopped Forrest by third-round TKO, repeating the victory by unanimous decision six months later.
Forrest prepared fully for the second Mayorga bout, but Shields felt “things just weren’t connecting” and helped align Forrest with a new trainer, McGirt.
As Haymon proceeded to get Mayweather his defining shot at De La Hoya in what then stood as the richest pay-per-view bout in history in 2007, Forrest posted a 2006 decision victory over former welterweight champion Ike Quartey. He then captured the WBC 154-pound belt by widely defeating Carlos Baldomir on the scorecards in a 2007 bout in Tacoma, Wash.
Vernon Forrest and Sergio Mora traded blows in their WBC super welterweight title fight at the MGM Grand Garden Arena on Sept. 13, 2008. (Jed Jacobsohn / Getty Images)
The next year, he defended his belt against “The Contender” winner Sergio Mora, now a DAZN analyst.
“I didn’t really like him because he bad-mouthed me, called me ‘The Pretender’ and said I didn’t deserve the fight with him, that he was going to knock me out,” Mora said. “It felt to me that there was animosity over him not getting the big fights and feeling he hadn’t gotten the respect he deserved, maybe.”
Forrest’s pre-fight routine of running outside to trim his final pounds was betrayed by a heavy snowfall in Connecticut. He also found himself dehydrated and absent of energy after three rounds because he relied on an extended sauna stay to lose the weight.
Mora’s trainer advised him to rely heavily on a pesky jab, and by doing so, he edged Forrest by majority decision.
Haymon smartly worked for a quick rematch, and the WBC informed Mora he needed to accept a fight date three months later or he’d be stripped of his new belt.
“He caught me celebrating. I agreed to the rematch at the first Antonio Margarito-Miguel Cotto fight in Las Vegas, a drink in one hand, holding a cigar in the second,” Mora said. “I had to lose 30 pounds in six weeks.”
At the news conference faceoff announcing the fight, Forrest inspected the bloated Mora and snarled, “I’m gonna fukk you up.”
Mora would later have to shed three pounds in one hour to make weight for the fight. Forrest attended that second weigh-in, smiling at the sight of the drained Mora and whispering toward him the same words from their earlier faceoff.
“This time, I believed him,” Mora said, and his first loss followed the next night.
Reunited with the belt, Forrest showed up to watch Mosley fight Margarito in Los Angeles in January 2009. After plaster-coated hand wraps were extracted from Margarito, Mosley punished the Mexican to thrill his hometown crowd and regain a welterweight belt.
“I remember right as I came down the steps from the ring, there’s Vernon Forrest waiting for me with a big hug,” Mosley said. “‘Great job! You looked tremendous! Great job!’ It was such a great greeting. I’m forever touched. He had such a great heart.”
The extra mile
In his time away from boxing, Forrest started a passion business project that lives on today. Destiny’s Child, an Atlanta-based organization, provides 24-hour servicing and care for the intellectually disabled. He opened this by inviting some of the first clients to live in his own home.
Forrest was introduced to the need for creating such a business by his then-girlfriend Johnson’s mother, Clementine Burch, a social worker who informed him of the neglect that so many with autism, Down syndrome and other disabilities suffered with.
“Vernon’s mother is like him: compassionate, and he didn’t have a whole lot growing up,” Johnson explained. “He believed once you make it, you give back to others — not in material things, but in his time, by solving problems.”
They started a personal-care home and hired workers. Some days, Forrest was among the caregivers. Johnson recalls him being moved by the patience he was gaining in observing the everyday difficulties of those he was caring for.
This included a man who was non-communicative, wearing diapers.
Providing a cheerful, encouraging presence for the 30 clients back then, Forrest spent an abundance of time with that particular client, Johnson said. Social workers charting the man’s progress were shocked to see him progress out of the diapers, improving his communication skills and learning to eat with a fork.
Vernon Forest poses with clients of Destiny’s Child. (Courtesy of Kitoy Johnson)
Observing those breakthroughs, Forrest “would be almost in tears. It was sheer joy,” Johnson said. “He was always in there with that big smile. He told me whenever he was feeling down, he’d go see the individuals because that’s what brought him happiness.”
Destiny’s Child continues its work today as a million-dollar business, with 40 staff members serving 24 individuals.
Tragic turn
Nursing himself back from a rib injury and angling for a 154-pound title date with Sergio Martinez, Forrest was spending time with his 11-year-old godson in Atlanta on the night of July 25, 2009.
A low-tire-pressure indicator light flashed on the dash of Forrest’s Jaguar, so he pulled into a gas station, telling the boy to go inside an attached convenience store to use the restroom and buy a Snickers and Gatorade as Forrest filled the tire.
Wearing his gold Rolex and a custom diamond ring he’d made for himself inscribed, “4X World Champion,” Forrest was approached from behind by a man, Demario Ware, who told the boxer at gunpoint to part with his valuables.
Forrest obeyed, but as Ware dashed away, Forrest knew he could catch him. He reached inside his glove compartment, grabbed a handgun and chased after Ware. Forrest ultimately approached another man, Charmon Sinkfield, asking if had seen Ware.
Sinkfield, who had been waiting for Ware with getaway driver Jquante Crews, lied and told Forrest no.
So Forrest turned his back and walked away.
Sinkfield then emptied his gun on Forrest, the boxer’s body riddled in the back torso and thigh with eight bullets.
Forrest, at age 38, died at the scene.
“A part of me left when he left this world,” Johnson said. “I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced crying on the inside, but I’d have that, where your chest gets real heavy, the tears start coming. It was just so sad. … I couldn’t believe he took off running, though … if he hadn’t, he’d probably still be here with us today.”
Across boxing’s wide family, cellphones buzzed spreading the horrific news.
Mosley recalled thinking, “How could anybody shoot Vernon? And kill him? … It was just so stunning. You think to yourself, ‘Life is a mystery, just live it to the fullest. Make it heartfelt.’”
Former light heavyweight champion Antonio Tarver was the first one who reached McGirt.
McGirt flashed back to the scenes that set Forrest apart, how he’d go to church each Sunday, how he presented McGirt with his own championship ring.
McGirt sat there and mourned for days.
“To be honest, at that point, a part of me wanted to get out of the game because of the bond I had formed with him,” McGirt said. “I felt in my heart there were not many guys who had that kind of work ethic.
“I guess that’s why people say, ‘Don’t get close to fighters.’ But you know, when you’ve got a great guy like him — an honest guy, a straight-up guy — you can’t help it. It took a big chunk out of me, I’m not going to lie to you.”
DiBella phoned Haymon to express his condolences, and the manager couldn’t bring himself to words as he sobbed inconsolably.
All three men involved in Forrest’s murder are serving life sentences in prison without the possibility of parole.
Johnson remembered the tightness of the Haymon-Forrest bond in family room discussions.
“Al was so down-to-earth. Not flashy, not flamboyant. So genuine, so attentive to ensuring Vernon had everything he needed. He was so dedicated to Vernon as his first fighter,” she said. “I’ve never met anyone like him. He loves boxing, he loved Vernon.
“I’ll read some articles online where it says Al Haymon’s not a real person and I’ll just laugh, thinking, ‘If you guys only knew. …’ He may not be in pictures, but I saw him at work, and from what I saw, I can tell you he’s a wonderful guy.”
Kelly Swanson, Forrest’s former publicist, continues working for Haymon.
“To this day, quite frequently when I speak to Al, he’ll start the conversation by saying, ‘I still really miss our guy,’” Swanson said.
When Jermall Charlo enters the ring on Saturday night, he’ll not only be representing himself and Haymon in the ring, but also the legacy of Forrest. As a child, Charlo emulated Forrest in the gym.
Standing the exact height as Forrest with the same 73-inch reach and a similar style, Charlo says he fights carrying Forrest in his heart.
“I go back and remember his old fights, watching him, like when he fought Shane Mosley,” Charlo said. “I know everything about him. I’ve embraced him. Out of any boxer I’ve ever met, known or studied, I’ve always liked Vernon Forrest the most.
“And when they make a movie out of his story, I’d like to be the fighter who plays him.”
..unless you were a Mexican poster in that case I get it cuz yall were waiting for that heavyweight champion
..definitely the 2nd fight he was on the shyt..think he also took EPO too
.Viper was a stand up dude