The Rio silver medalist has a big heart to match his big jab.
NEWARK -- The old boxer had three requests when the volunteers at his hospice told him they could make his "wishes" come true. He wanted to sit ringside and see one more fight. He wanted to tour the city where the learned the sport generations ago one more time.
Olympic silver medalist Shakur Stevenson (right) talks to a former New Jersey champion from Newark named George Clark. And, maybe most of all, he wanted to meet the young fighter from that city who went to the Rio Olympics this month and came home with a silver medal. He wanted to meet Shakur Stevenson.
So just two hours after Stevenson was honored with a parade through downtown Newark, he sat quietly at a restaurant table and listened as a 93-year-old man named George Clarke told him stories about learning the "sweet science" on the streets when he was about the same age.
"There was no money for lightweight fighters back then. The money was for the heavyweights!" the old boxer told the young boxer, who -- in the coming months -- will hopefully find out that this is no longer true when he embarks on his own professional career.
But that is for another day. On this, what was supposed to be his special day, Stevenson took time to make it about somebody else. And, in the process, he proved that his heart is just as big as his jab.
He sat there patiently as Clarke, whose respiratory problems makes it hard for him to speak clearly, seemed to light up as he told tales about fighting at the long gone Newark Athletic Club where he also worked a part time job. Clarke explained that he started boxing when he was 12, and then continued as a student at South Side (now Shabazz) High.
"I would fight on a Friday night," Clarke said, "and on Monday morning, I was right back in school."
13 cool things about Shakur Stevenson
Clarke lives at Haven Hospice in North Plainfield, where cardiac disease has sapped his strength but not his spirit. He sat in a wheelchair, needing occasional reminders to keep sipping his fortified water as he regaled Stevenson with stories about his own boxing career.
He was a former New Jersey state champion, while he couldn't remember exactly when, it's a safe bet that it happened long before Stevenson's grandfather was even born. That was back in an era when Newark was one of the best boxing towns in the country and an old barn on Springfield called Laurel Garden had a full fight card every week.
Clarke once made $15 for a fight, but he didn't care. He'd fight anyone, he said, for a payday. He barely recognized the city where, like Stevenson, he started his career in the sport. But, unlike Stevenson, the old boxer said his toughest fights were usually outside the ring.
"Every section of Newark had a tough guy," Clark said, "and I didn't have enough sense to run!"
Stevenson smiled. His newly awarded key to the city was sitting in a wooden box on the table, and his mother, Malikah, and his friends made small talk around him. But the 19-year-old boxer was an attentive guest for the man nearly three-quarters of a century his senior.
Shakur Stevenson (left) smiles as he gives 93-year-old Newark native George Clarke one of his "Just a Kid From Newark" T-shirts. He handed Clarke one of the "Just a Kid From Newark" T-shirts from his Powerade promotion and, with the help of his aide from the hospice, Clarke slipped it over his head right away.
Hours earlier, hundreds of people from the city -- many of them wearing that same T-shirt -- had cheered as he passed on a parade float during a day he declared the best in his life. He was the center of attention for a moment that made his mom cry tears of joy.
Stevenson took his split-decision loss in the gold-medal fight to Cuban star Robeisy Ramirez extremely hard. He thought he had let people down, but he saw for himself that the people who supported him back home couldn't have been prouder of his performance in Rio de Janeiro.
"Today is the proudest day in the city of Newark," mayor Ras Baraka told Stevenson during the city hall presentation. "And it is the best thing that we have ever done because of this young man."
If only they could have seen him just hours later when, far away from the spotlight as the city workers cleaned up after the parade, Stevenson made sure all the attention belonged to a boxer nearing the end of his journey.
"It was great meeting you, sir," the young boxer told the old boxer when their hour together had come to an end. The old boxer beamed at a kindness that shined brighter than any gold medal.
Steve Politi may be reached at spoliti@njadvancemedia.com. Follow him on Twitter @StevePoliti. Find NJ.com on Facebook.