Shakur Stevenson isn't just fighting for himself in Rio de Janeiro. He is fighting for his family, his city and his sport. Watch video
NEWARK -- They have come to a scarred blacktop basketball court near his childhood home, on a blistering afternoon in late spring, to be around their inspiration.
His family is here, all eight of his younger siblings and both his parents, because they always follow him. His teachers from his grade school in the city are here, too, singing his praises about how he kept the peace in their classrooms when he was growing up.
His handlers from USA Boxing are also hovering on blacktop, and the TV producers who have followed his every step for days, and PR types from the energy drink company that sponsors him, and even a few neighbors who saw the commotion and just wandered in through the chain-link fence.
They all want a moment with Shakur Stevenson, a selfie or a handshake or an interview, and he is exhausted from the attention. He keeps smiling, because even when he is trading punches in the boxing ring, his toothy grin is the default setting on his young face.
But it's clear: He's done.
"Can I play basketball now?" he asks, almost sheepishly, and when granted permission he loses himself in a two-on-two game with his dad and two of his eight siblings.
As he plays, the assembled crowd keeps talking about what Stevenson has a chance to accomplish in Rio de Janeiro. He can become a role model for the kids in the city, showing them that their journey doesn't have to end on the streets outside this basketball court.
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He can become a game changer for his entire sport, because the once proud U.S. boxing program has gone 12 years without a male fighter standing atop the medal stand. He can win a gold medal that will launch in on a professional career that can support his large and tight-knit family.
"It means everything to know that our city is behind me," Stevenson said during that recent visit near Hank Aaron Fields. "They talk about the negative in our city and everything, but our city is more than all the bad stuff you hear about.
"I want to bring something positive back to the city. I want to inspire the kids and show them that just because you're from Newark doesn't mean you can't be something. It means a lot."
He smiles again. Stevenson, at just 19, has so much on his 123-pound frame. And you can't help but wonder: How can a kid carrying all that weight look like he doesn't have a care in the world?
Dedicated from the start
They all knew something like this was possible. His father, Shahid Guyton, said he knew when Shakur was still in diapers because the kid would love nothing more than to try to punch him in his face as he bobbed and weaved his head.
That kid, named after Tupac Shakur nine months after the famous rapper was gunned down, grew up in Newark's Central Ward. The family was always on the move, it seemed, from one apartment in the city to another. And Shakur never stopped moving, either.
He was in the ring of his grandfather's boxing gym when he was just 5, and soon after, he started counting off the days until he turned 8 so he could finally have his first bout. He won easily. Wali Moses knew the kid was an athlete then -- "He was born with exceptional timing," he said -- but it was his dedication to the sport that convinced him the kid could be special.
Shakur loved sitting with his grandfather and watching old clips from the great fighters. Muhammad Ali. Flloyd Mayweather. Andre Ward, his favorite and his inspiration. Moses didn't have to wake him up and drag him to his gym. The kid was burning to get inside and get to work. That's when he knew.
Malikah Stevenson? She came around much later. Oh sure, she saw the way her son was constantly shadow boxing. She saw how he came home from the fights with a trophy or medal and barely a bruise on his body. But she wasn't thinking of a gold medal. She was just glad he was engaged and off the streets.
Help Shakur's family get to Rio
Then, at 14, he traveled to Russia for an amateur event called the Veles Cup. He was supposed to be a backup, but when the top fighter couldn't travel, he was rushed onto the plane. That's when she knew.
"Shakur won all his fights," Malikah said. "I was like, 'Really? Okay, something is going on here.' When he came back, he had a different look. He knew he wanted to go to the Olympics even more than before."
He won the junior world championships in 2013, and the next year, he fought in the youth world championships. He faced a British boxer named Muhammad Ali -- named for, but not related to, the legend -- and a tournament official told Moses to be prepared for a loss. This opponent was too good.
"Don't worry, Pop-Pop," Shakur told his grandfather, and then using his lethal jab, he won all three rounds for a unanimous decision and another gold medal.
He was on everyone's radar in boxing after that. He moved to Alexandria, Va., when he was 16 to train with Kay Koroma, who had become his co-coach during his rise on the amateur circuit.
The move solved two problems: 1. He could live with his coach and focus on the sport full-time. 2. He could get out of Newark so his mother, who had just lost a cousin to gun violence, didn't have to worry about his success becoming a source of jealousy in the city.
Koroma taught him that boxing isn't just about strength and footwork. The sport, the coach stressed, is equal parts strategy and art, and it was a lesson that Stevenson would have to learn the hard way.
He is a perfect 23-0 internationally, but it appeared in 2015 that he had met his match at home. He lost twice to American rival Ruben Villa, a boxer he would have to master to get to Rio.
"I was trying to knock his head off instead of boxing," Stevenson remembered of that second loss, and he used that frustration as a motivator. He found a photo of the referee raising Villa's hand in victory, turned it into the lock screen image on his phone, and plotted his revenge.
He would have to beat Villa twice at the U.S. Boxing Trials in Reno, Nev., in December to keep his Olympic dream alive. He was a different fighter, tactically countering Villa's punches and waiting for openings to deliver his vicious jabs. As he waited for the decision after the second fight, he knew.
He slipped a stars-and-stripes bandana onto his head. As the referee raised his arm in triumph, Stevenson fell to his knees and pointed to rafters.
"YES!!!"
He would qualify for the Olympics with another victory in Argentina last March. One of the first people to congratulate him was the last American man to win a gold medal at the Olympics.
Hope for U.S. boxing
Andre Ward cannot hide his frustration. He won gold in the 2004 Olympics in Athens, one of the 49 American boxers to achieve that honor. That, and the total medal count of 110, is more than any other country.
This is the nation that has produced so many of the sports iconic figures, from Ali, to Joe Frazier, to George Foreman, to Sugar Ray Leonard and Oscar de la Hoya. They all were Olympic champions, launching them to great heights and international fame in the sport.
But no male boxer has won gold in 12 years and counting. Even worse, no male boxer stepped foot on the medal stand four years ago in London. Ward wonders: How is that even possible?
"I'm surprised. I'm amazed. I'm disappointed," Ward said in a recent phone interview. "The United States of America at one time was feared. Unfortunately, right now, we're not feared and I don't even know how much we're respected.
"The only way that's going to change is by going to the Olympics and winning medals. I'm hoping and believing this class of fighters in Rio will start this off and getting us going in the right direction again."
This is why Ward has embraced Stevenson, becoming another mentor for the Newark native. Ward sees championship potential in the young boxer, not just in the way he fights but in his drive to be the best.
Minutes before that fight against in Villa, Ward called Stevenson to deliver a pep talk over the phone. He didn't offer any technical advice. He didn't remind him of the high stakes.
"I just wanted reassure him that you're there for a reason," said Ward, a former unified world champion as a professional. "Trust yourself. Trust your ability. It's your time. Sometimes, you have to be reminded of things just to make sure you've got it deep down inside."
Ward believes that the male fighter who ends this American drought at the top of the medal stand will hold an even bigger place in the sport than many of the gold-medal winners that have come before him. Will it be Stevenson? Boxing experts are divided.
Yes, he is undefeated internationally, but he is facing a higher level of competition in Rio. He will be one of the most inexperienced boxers in the bantamweight division, a tournament that will include reigning world champion Michael Conlan of Ireland, up-and-coming Indian boxer Shiva Thapa and several top Eastern Europeans. Sports Illustrated, in its annual projections in all 306 events, once again had the American men leaving an Olympics without a medal.
Still: Stevenson is one of the most accomplished U.S. amateurs in years. He is the first American male to win junior and youth world titles and a Youth Olympic Games gold medal. He has risen to the challenge at every level so far, and that's why Ward is hopeful.
"He knows what it takes to get his hand raised, and that's not an easy thing to accomplish," Ward said. "It comes from experience but also from being insanely competitive, and feeling that there is no worse thing than losing. Just watching him from the outside, I can tell he's perfected that."
The experts can say what they want. Inside his circle back in his home city, there is no doubt.
Inspiring his home city
Back on that scarred blacktop not far from where the young Olympian grew up, Shahid Guyton wants to make this clear: His son is already his inspiration.
Guyton admits to his "trials and tribulations with the streets" that includes several arrests during Shakur's childhood. He became a changed man, he said, when he saw the dedication that his son had put into boxing.
He moved to Philadelphia to get away from the wrong crowd in his home city, enrolled in a program called "Ready, Willing and Able" that helps people battling addiction, homelessness and criminal recidivism. He graduated in 2013 and, on its website, the organization called him a "shining example of the program's strength and success."
He works in behavioral health technology and security. "I didn't have a GED when I moved out there," Guyton said. "Now I have a GED. I'm in college. I never had a job over three months, and now I've had my job for over two years now.
"I credit him more than anything. I credit him because I watched his drive and his dedication, and I just took some of that from him. I wanted to put the hard work and dedication that he put into his craft into my craft."
Nicole Singletary, one of his teachers at the Newton Street School in the city, uses him to motivate all her students. They want to become a doctor? Look at Shakur. They want to become a lawyer? Look at the kid who is headed to Rio, and follow his lead.
"To see him apply himself from a city like Newark, where you already have the odds stacked against you statistically, it shows others that you don't have to subscribe to all the other things that are already giving the city a negative image," Singletary said.
But Stevenson wants to be more than inspiring. He wants to help his family in a tangible way. Malikah, his mother, has always had a steady job, but it certainly isn't easy raising nine kids aged 5 to 19.
This is why Stevenson plans to turn professional as soon as the Olympics end. He wants to provide for his family, hopefully moving them out of Newark to Virginia or Florida. He is fighting for them.
"I want to provide for them. I want to get them a lot of stuff. I want to make their lives easier," he said. He isn't just chasing the gold medal so he can stand along the likes of Ali and Ward. He wants it because he knows that added cachet will act as a springboard for his career.
It seems like an overwhelming amount of pressure for a teenager, but you'll never see it on his face. Stevenson smiles so much that his USA Boxing handlers have to tell him to "use your mean face!" before photo shoots.
He'll have that toothy grin on his face when he steps in the ring in Rio. He'll have it as he chases a gold medal that he wants for so many reasons beyond his own personal glory.
For his sport. For his city. For his family.
Steve Politi may be reached at spoliti@njadvancemedia.com. Follow him on Twitter @StevePoliti. Find NJ.com on Facebook.