Boxing's oldest referee: Flynn Gerald left boxing better than he found it

Boxing is best because of the people involved. 

After covering boxing for roughly fourteen years, I took a quasi-break from writing around the time I relocated from Connecticut to Middle Tennessee in 2020. There wasn’t much boxing going on at the time as things were still tightly locked down due to the pandemic. I soon reconnected with Nashville flyweight Edwin Reyes, a subject of my writing early on in his career. I spoke with Reyes and I expressed my interest in transitioning to the role of boxing judge. It had long been a goal of mine and I figured since I had already made one big change, now was the time. Edwin helped me make some introductions with those who could guide me through the process and expectations. By early 2021, I was a licensed official and judging in Tennessee, Alabama, and Kentucky. 

During my first trip to Alabama, two cool things happened. First, I met Roy Jones Jr. on what coincidentally was the twenty-eighth anniversary of his winning his first world title with a unanimous decision over Bernard Hopkins. That night Jones was working the corner of a young prospect who overcame a scare to take home a split decision. Second, and more interestingly, I met Flynn Gerald, who would be making his final professional appearance as he retired from the sport of boxing in an official capacity. 

Make no mistake, I was smitten to meet Jones, who I never came across in my writing coverage. However, once the hugs and handshakes passed, that was it. After seeing Gerald, an eighty-one-year referee on his final night officiating, my mind stayed with him. Still a writer at heart, I knew this guy had a story. On the ride home from Gadsden, AL, Danny Ziemba, a rising referee from Nashville, and I discussed Gerald while I watched Josh Taylor vs Jose Carlos Ramirez on my phone and gave him updates. I knew I had to write something about Gerald. Ziemba, along with other ring officials Justin Moon and Colby Dodson, said, “Do it!”

I waited though. In the months that followed, I watched Gerald through social media as he handled venomous snakes in quantity and raised a baby squirrel from infancy. He was bolder and more compassionate than anyone I could recall. It wasn’t until I saw the now eighty-two-year-old Flynn Gerald banging out six rounds on his heavy bag, celebrating his birthday with a workout he attests he’s done over the last seventy years, that I reached out and picked up the phone. 

“I was a crybaby,” Gerald admitted. “I got picked on by a bully named Johnny, who was always rough with people. I’d rather play with the girls at this time. Around sixth grade, I watched a show about how to box. I filled an old duffel bag and hit it. One day, Johnny tried to push me. I got flush and I hit him as hard and as fast as I could. That’s the only fight my parents liked. I started fighting kids every week. All the high schools had fighters and I mean fistfights only. I was in the Navy when I had my first organized fight.”

Flynn Gerald was born on April 2, 1940, in Birmingham, AL. He’s resided in Chelsea with his wife, kids, and grandkids on a sixty-two-acre plot for the last thirty years. Gerald’s built three homes on the land to accommodate his family’s needs. In those days, Gerald favored the child-rearing recipe of ninety-nine percent love and one percent ass-whooping to get a great kid. 

 At age eleven, Gerald worked with bricklayers. He carried a pot of water around with a dipper to quench the thirst of the men hard at work. Gerald laughed that no one would share a ladle with a whole group of people these days. By twelve, he was carrying bricks and spreading mortar the following year. In total, Gerald laid brick for thirteen years. 

“We were building a false front on Sears and I saw an opening for firefighter,” Gerald recalled. “I ran over there as fast as I could to get that job. In all, I was a firefighter for thirty-three years. As Fire Captain, I had the opportunity to move around. I had a heavy bag at every station to work out with the guys. Fighting a fire is like being in the ring. You look at the fire, size it up. Some of ‘em are sneaky; they’re trying to kill you. There was a time that I was going to fight a black belt karate guy. My whole shift sparred with me to get me ready. It lasted twenty-eight seconds. I caught him with a right hand right in the middle of his spinning back kick.”

In the Navy, Gerald boxed overseas as much as he could when they came into port in places like Japan. He served on an aircraft carrier and recalled having his time extended and all leaves canceled due to the Cuban Missile Crisis. Once he made his way home to Alabama, he trained youth boxers to compete at the Golden Gloves level. He remembered about seven or eight teams competing locally and two special events he helped coordinate at the Civic Center in Birmingham. 

“As a trainer, this one mother brought her kid to me. He was out of control at fifteen,” Gerald stated. “He had polio and walked with a bad limp. He had a crooked spine and was deaf in one ear. He came to work out at the gym. One day, I sent the boys out for a one-mile run. He said he couldn’t do it because he was a ‘cripple’. I called him back and made it clear that I trained fighters. That boy won the state finals with a seventeen-second knockout.”

Ninety-nine percent love and one percent ass-whooping. 

By the early seventies, Gerald was training boxers for the Police Athletic Team. He assisted by officiating bouts and getting judges and anything else that needed to be done to see the events come off. His work with amateurs led to refereeing Tough-Man Contests and professional bouts.

“At the time, I would referee every bout,” Gerald said. “Nowadays, the commissions have three or so referees to split the bouts. I had more bouts than any official in Alabama at the time. There were times when I had to referee in 108 degrees, but I have good endurance. I was sweaty, but not tired since I never smoked. I had two heavyweights once, mean boys, six-foot-two or three around 230 pounds. In round three, one fighter didn’t want to break. At the bell, he waited and started following the other fighter to his corner. I got between them and pushed him back. He fell on his butt and the crowd got a good laugh.”

Nashville-based judge David Hudson once explained the difference between judging and refereeing as he saw it with this poignant statement. “As a judge, I accept the responsibility that I can have an impact on someone’s career. As referee, you are responsible for their lives.”

In his many years as the third man in the ring, Gerald is proud of the fact that no one has been seriously injured under his watch. He’s worked at various levels with names such as Eric “Butterbean” Esch, Randall “Tex” Cobb, and Deontay Wilder. 

“I had a Don King bout on national television. It was a Heavyweight Title Eliminator,” Gerald recalled. “I was asked by someone in the promotion if I could handle it. I said, ‘Will they be wearing boxing gloves?’ The man said, ‘Yeah’. I told him, ‘ Then I can handle it.’ I was refereeing a Jeff Dodson fight (Dodson is now also an Alabama referee). The guy hit Jeff right on the collar bone and broke it. I heard it. I called an immediate stoppage. It was just instinct. Fighting makes you a better referee. It helps you know without having to think. All my time refereeing, I never had a protest. I made the right calls. Fighters naturally want to go on, but you have to know your fighters. Can he take a punch, can he come back? I started all my fights the same way. Go to your corner and wait for the bell. I never forced them to touch gloves. They’re fighting, not making love.”

As expected with a self-described jokester, Gerald has some memorable anecdotes in his mental library. 

“Angelo Dundee once yelled at me before the fight to ‘watch for low blows’. I do that, “Gerald replied. “After the bout, his fighter lost, and Angelo threw a roll of tape at me!”

Another time, Gerald scolded two fighters about holding and not fighting, repeatedly. Fed up with the nonsense, Gerald pulled the fighters in and told them he would be holding their purses if they did not fight.

Afterward, someone reminded Gerald that he did not have the authority to withhold money from fighters.

“They don’t know that,” Gerald retorted. 

On the final night of Gerald’s officiating career, he experienced something new. As a ringside judge that night, I can attest it made the audience gasp.

“The first time in fifty-six years, I got knocked down,” Gerald said. “It wasn’t really a knockdown though. I tripped on the fighter’s legs trying to get them to break. I can tell it had people worried though, so I sprung right back up. I’ve seen a lot. This one guy tried everything [illegal] in the books. He told me he didn’t like me after the fight. He said he couldn’t get away with anything in there because I kept everyone safe.”

Gerald has a post-fight picture with that very same fighter. The two embraced and came to a mutual understanding of respect. Gerald spends his free time now clearing snakes for friends or locals. He’s always been drawn toward dangerous things. He’s raised both deer and squirrels and video evidence of this man’s magical touch with animals can be found on social media. He’s had a deer he rescued come knocking on his door some mornings to enter the house and visit with his wife. Neighbors bring him baby squirrels that fall out of trees that end up bottle-fed and better trained than Stephen King’s Mr. Jingles. He’s also started posting instructional videos about specific boxing technique. 

“I was the second person inducted into the Alabama Boxing Hall of Fame,” Gerald said proudly. “The best thing though was what Jeff Dodson said about my retirement.

He told everyone, "He left boxing better than he found it.’”