Richard “Shrimpy” Clarke’s name is synonymous with boxing in Jamaica. A natural flyweight, he was active as a professional boxer between 1981 and 1996, retiring with a record of 27-6 — seven of those wins coming by way of knockout. Early on Shrimpy developed a repertoire full of the gloves-down-chin-out taunts, off-hand wind-ups, and Ali shuffles that his hero Sugar Ray Leonard was famous for. As an amateur he frequently suffered lost points for the flamboyant displays, but as a professional the style garnered him the notorious honorific, “The Sugar Ray of JA.” More than a simple showman, however, hand speed and intricate footwork formed the substance behind the flash, and I suspect that even if he didn’t look like Ray Leonard’s 112-pound twin, the name still would’ve stuck. Beginning in 1986 with his fourth-round knockout of the Australian Wayne Mulholland to capture the Commonwealth flyweight title (after which he was famously hoisted up in the air by then–WBC heavyweight champion Trevor Berbick), Shrimpy won a series of title bouts throughout the late eighties culminating in a hard-earned WBC number one contender status by the end of the decade. His shot at the world flyweight championship came on September 7, 1990, against Thailand native Sot Chitalada at the National Arena in Kingston. The Jamaican government went to great lengths for the opportunity to play host, and, in the months leading up to the fight, Shrimpy’s camp even brought in veteran trainer Larry Kent (who had worked with a long list of champions, including Sugar Ray Robinson — the original “Sugar” and, to many, the greatest pound-for-pound fighter in history) to work alongside his longtime coach Fitzroy Guisseppi. The hype surrounding the fight was tremendous, and though Shrimpy lost — he was counted out after a savage uppercut from Chitalada sent him to the canvas 44 seconds into the 11th round — he never ceased being the people’s champ. We met Shrimpy at the Jamaica Boxing Board-operated Stanley Couch Gym on Victoria Avenue in downtown Kingston, where he is the resident coach at what is now Kingston’s only remaining public boxing gym. We were officially there to talk to Sakima Mullings and Devon “Concrete” Moncrieffe, two popular boxers at the forefront of the current resurgence of the sport in Jamaica, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity to sneak a quick conversation with this living legend. Sevens Clash: When did you first know you were a fighter? Shrimpy: Well, I started boxing from [when] I was 11 years old. There was a gym close by to where I live, up by [National] Heroes Park — Guinness Gym. All of us that live over in that area used to go over to the park to play ball and all those things. So I would go over to the gym. I started to see some little youth like myself training — and in the ring boxing, too. So that kind of draw me to it, because I used to love engaging in a lot of fights. I always believe that I could beat the guys that I saw. And I always used to tell them that I’m going to come to the gym and beat them up, and they would always bet me to come. I eventually went and beat them out the gym. SC: In the ring? S: Yes! I had a couple fights before I reach 12. I had my first fight about a month after I start. I was just eager to go inside the ring. SC: Who was the trainer at Guinness at that time? S: An old, old gentleman by the name of Mr. Frank “Spider” Foster and another one by the name of Jimmy Taylor and also Mr. Emilio Sanchez. And Emilio Sanchez was the national coach for Jamaica, for all the boxing teams at that time that used to leave Jamaica and go to the Olympics and all those things. He was also the coach for Mike McCallum. I was on that team with McCallum, so I’ve been to all of those tournaments. The only tournament I haven’t been to is the Olympics — and not being selected for the [1980] Olympics changed my mind. I think at that time the country never had the funds to send us all, and so they just trim down the team. I quit amateur boxing at that time. But I had close to 200 fights as an amateur, and I became a professional fighter like two years after. My career start from there. SC: Were they calling you Shrimpy back then? S: They used to call me Shrimps when I came to the gym. Then, when I became a professional fighter and start to come on TV, the people started saying Shrimpy, and you would hear people shouting, “Lick ‘im Shrimpy! Lick ‘im!” You know? And it just stuck. Even overseas. SC: You were also known as The Sugar Ray of JA… S: Well, Sugar Ray Leonard was one of the main fighters that I used to love watching, and anything I see him do in the ring I would do that in my boxing. It was an announcer by the name of Bagga Brown that used to introduce me in the ring as The Sugar Ray of JA. SC: What would you say is the most memorable fight from your professional career? S: I fought for the world championship against Sot Chitalada from Thailand. I was fighting for the WBC flyweight championship. I was winning the fight all the way, and he knocked me out in the 11th round. He just turned it around that round. The fight was here in Jamaica at the Arena, and I was getting too comfortable and too carried away with the crowd. You know, you only have two more rounds left, and you say, “Chu, he can’t beat me.” You know? You was beating him in every area so you get kinda relaxed, but he’s a very experienced fighter. He knocked me down; I never beat the count. I got up at nine but the referee stop the fight. But that was one of my most memorable fights because of the training that I did. It wasn’t the training that I’d normally do, so everything went haywire from the training. I was in Miami for six to seven weeks, and during that time it was running, like, 110 degrees — it was hot, too hot. It was draining every strength out of me, and I don’t think I recovered when I came back to Jamaica. The fight was like the week after, so I never fully recovered. But I still wanted to do it for Jamaica — that’s why I went through with the fight. SC: I was just a kid at the time, but I still remember the hype around that fight. It was huge — the whole island was behind you. It’s been a long time since boxing in Jamaica has been at that level, but it seems like there’s a buzz around the sport again… S: It’s a resurgence. Contender [a Jamaican reality TV show about boxing, similar to the HBO series of the same name] brought back interest. When Contender just finish everybody come to the gym, everybody want to fight on it. “When the next Contender?” You have not been seeing this kind of action and this kind of vibe with the people for boxing for a long while. It kind of get stagnant since we, all of us, drop out, the thing kind of fall back. With these guys now, the onus is on them now to lift up the game. If they can bring in overseas boxers and win against them, that’s the way they’re gonna prove themselves. Not with each other, with overseas boxers. SC: So that’s where you see it heading? S: It has to be. You can’t escape that if you want to build a following. Because each boxer has to build his own cheering group, their own fan base. That is one of the main things that can bring back the support to what it was. People like a special fighter. Mullings is one fighter that people talk about now, and people talk about Rikardo Smith and Moncrieffe and Nicholas Walters, who is going for the championship. [Ed. Note: In December 2012 Walters defeated Colombian fighter Daulis Prescott in Jamaica to win the WBA featherweight title. He is the first Jamaican boxer ever to win a world title on home soil.] They can become main draws. It looks good and it can only get better. I see a bright future.
Pop-upView Separately

Richard “Shrimpy” Clarke’s name is synonymous with boxing in Jamaica.

A natural flyweight, he was active as a professional boxer between 1981 and 1996, retiring with a record of 27-6 — seven of those wins coming by way of knockout.

Early on Shrimpy developed a repertoire full of the gloves-down-chin-out taunts, off-hand wind-ups, and Ali shuffles that his hero Sugar Ray Leonard was famous for. As an amateur he frequently suffered lost points for the flamboyant displays, but as a professional the style garnered him the notorious honorific, “The Sugar Ray of JA.” More than a simple showman, however, hand speed and intricate footwork formed the substance behind the flash, and I suspect that even if he didn’t look like Ray Leonard’s 112-pound twin, the name still would’ve stuck.

Beginning in 1986 with his fourth-round knockout of the Australian Wayne Mulholland to capture the Commonwealth flyweight title (after which he was famously hoisted up in the air by then–WBC heavyweight champion Trevor Berbick), Shrimpy won a series of title bouts throughout the late eighties culminating in a hard-earned WBC number one contender status by the end of the decade. His shot at the world flyweight championship came on September 7, 1990, against Thailand native Sot Chitalada at the National Arena in Kingston. The Jamaican government went to great lengths for the opportunity to play host, and, in the months leading up to the fight, Shrimpy’s camp even brought in veteran trainer Larry Kent (who had worked with a long list of champions, including Sugar Ray Robinson — the original “Sugar” and, to many, the greatest pound-for-pound fighter in history) to work alongside his longtime coach Fitzroy Guisseppi. The hype surrounding the fight was tremendous, and though Shrimpy lost — he was counted out after a savage uppercut from Chitalada sent him to the canvas 44 seconds into the 11th round — he never ceased being the people’s champ.

We met Shrimpy at the Jamaica Boxing Board-operated Stanley Couch Gym on Victoria Avenue in downtown Kingston, where he is the resident coach at what is now Kingston’s only remaining public boxing gym. We were officially there to talk to Sakima Mullings and Devon “Concrete” Moncrieffe, two popular boxers at the forefront of the current resurgence of the sport in Jamaica, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity to sneak a quick conversation with this living legend.

Shrimpy Clarke Stanley Couch Gym Kingston Jamaica

Sevens Clash: When did you first know you were a fighter?

Shrimpy: Well, I started boxing from [when] I was 11 years old. There was a gym close by to where I live, up by [National] Heroes Park — Guinness Gym. All of us that live over in that area used to go over to the park to play ball and all those things. So I would go over to the gym. I started to see some little youth like myself training — and in the ring boxing, too. So that kind of draw me to it, because I used to love engaging in a lot of fights. I always believe that I could beat the guys that I saw. And I always used to tell them that I’m going to come to the gym and beat them up, and they would always bet me to come. I eventually went and beat them out the gym.

SC: In the ring?

S: Yes! I had a couple fights before I reach 12. I had my first fight about a month after I start. I was just eager to go inside the ring.

SC: Who was the trainer at Guinness at that time?

S: An old, old gentleman by the name of Mr. Frank “Spider” Foster and another one by the name of Jimmy Taylor and also Mr. Emilio Sanchez. And Emilio Sanchez was the national coach for Jamaica, for all the boxing teams at that time that used to leave Jamaica and go to the Olympics and all those things. He was also the coach for Mike McCallum. I was on that team with McCallum, so I’ve been to all of those tournaments. The only tournament I haven’t been to is the Olympics — and not being selected for the [1980] Olympics changed my mind. I think at that time the country never had the funds to send us all, and so they just trim down the team. I quit amateur boxing at that time. But I had close to 200 fights as an amateur, and I became a professional fighter like two years after. My career start from there.

Richard Shrimpy Clarke Alexander Richter Sevens Clash

SC: Were they calling you Shrimpy back then?

S: They used to call me Shrimps when I came to the gym. Then, when I became a professional fighter and start to come on TV, the people started saying Shrimpy, and you would hear people shouting, “Lick ‘im Shrimpy! Lick ‘im!” You know? And it just stuck. Even overseas.

SC: You were also known as The Sugar Ray of JA…

S: Well, Sugar Ray Leonard was one of the main fighters that I used to love watching, and anything I see him do in the ring I would do that in my boxing. It was an announcer by the name of Bagga Brown that used to introduce me in the ring as The Sugar Ray of JA.

SC: What would you say is the most memorable fight from your professional career?

S: I fought for the world championship against Sot Chitalada from Thailand. I was fighting for the WBC flyweight championship. I was winning the fight all the way, and he knocked me out in the 11th round. He just turned it around that round. The fight was here in Jamaica at the Arena, and I was getting too comfortable and too carried away with the crowd. You know, you only have two more rounds left, and you say, “Chu, he can’t beat me.” You know? You was beating him in every area so you get kinda relaxed, but he’s a very experienced fighter. He knocked me down; I never beat the count. I got up at nine but the referee stop the fight. But that was one of my most memorable fights because of the training that I did. It wasn’t the training that I’d normally do, so everything went haywire from the training. I was in Miami for six to seven weeks, and during that time it was running, like, 110 degrees — it was hot, too hot. It was draining every strength out of me, and I don’t think I recovered when I came back to Jamaica. The fight was like the week after, so I never fully recovered. But I still wanted to do it for Jamaica — that’s why I went through with the fight.

SC: I was just a kid at the time, but I still remember the hype around that fight. It was huge — the whole island was behind you. It’s been a long time since boxing in Jamaica has been at that level, but it seems like there’s a buzz around the sport again…

S: It’s a resurgence. Contender [a Jamaican reality TV show about boxing, similar to the HBO series of the same name] brought back interest. When Contender just finish everybody come to the gym, everybody want to fight on it. “When the next Contender?” You have not been seeing this kind of action and this kind of vibe with the people for boxing for a long while. It kind of get stagnant since we, all of us, drop out, the thing kind of fall back. With these guys now, the onus is on them now to lift up the game. If they can bring in overseas boxers and win against them, that’s the way they’re gonna prove themselves. Not with each other, with overseas boxers.

SC: So that’s where you see it heading?

S: It has to be. You can’t escape that if you want to build a following. Because each boxer has to build his own cheering group, their own fan base. That is one of the main things that can bring back the support to what it was. People like a special fighter. Mullings is one fighter that people talk about now, and people talk about Rikardo Smith and Moncrieffe and Nicholas Walters, who is going for the championship. [Ed. Note: In December 2012 Walters defeated Colombian fighter Daulis Prescott in Jamaica to win the WBA featherweight title. He is the first Jamaican boxer ever to win a world title on home soil.] They can become main draws. It looks good and it can only get better. I see a bright future.

Richard Shrimpy Clarke The Sugar Ray of JA Sevens Clash

The Sugar Ray of JA | Sevens Clash Volume One

Isaiah Laing is the originator of Sting, Jamaica’s premiere one-night live music event held on Boxing Day (December 26) annually since 1984. His preternatural ability to consistently populate the lineup with a perfect balance of talent has helped the show keep pace with constantly shifting tastes over the course of the past 28 years — but the hallmark of the show has been the clash. A built-in feature since the early days, it wasn’t until the Original Front Tooth Gold Tooth Gun Pon Tooth Don Gorgon (Ninjaman) delivered spectacular back-to-back wins over Shabba Ranks and Super Cat in 1990 and 1991, respectively, that the show achieved its current status as a cultural touchstone. Between the alleged tears provoked by Ninjaman’s mockery of Shabba’s “doo doo pants” and Super Cat’s bottle-to-the-face of an innocent patron coupled with threats to shoot indiscriminately into the bottle-throwing crowd, the events surrounding both clashes generated an unprecedented amount of coverage in the local media, providing endless fodder for arguments that still flare up every year. For die-hard fans of hardcore dancehall, Sting has been a can’t-miss show ever since, and for up-and-coming entertainers eager to break through to the big leagues or veterans seeking renewed relevance, it is the one event on the calendar that cannot be ignored. Before Sting, Laing was a policeman. Active between 1976 and 1996 he was widely known as a rogue in the mold of men like Trinity, Tony Hewitt and Bigga Ford. A brush with mortality during a gun battle on Matches Lane early in his career led him to embrace a philosophy of duty based around a version of moral equivalency that would conveniently justify any activity outside the parameters of normal police protocol. Much like Texas Ranger John Coffee “Jack” Hays adopted the war tactics and fighting techniques of the feared Comanches along the North American frontier, in wild-West Kingston Laing became a bad man with a badge and a nine. Despite the potboilers overflowing with lurid tales of shootouts and battle scars (starring Laing as valiant crime fighter) that tend to litter the local news cycle around this time of year, his reputation on the street as a ruthless vigilante who has caught more bodies than bullets is deeply etched in popular memory. In 1991, when Tiger asked, “Whe di bad boy police name?” on his hit call and response record, “When,” everybody, including schoolchildren, knew the answer. Today, fully sixteen years since he turned in his badge, the proper reply remains the same, “Laing!” He only started promoting, so the story goes, because he couldn’t afford a car on his meager salary and, with each passing skirmish in the street, was increasingly wary of riding the bus home after work. And so, in 1983, after seven years on the force, Laing organized his first big dance — the now-classic Spanish Town Prison Oval sound clash between Junjo Lawes’ set Volcano Hi-Power and the People’s Choice sound system. 1983 was the last year that he saw the inside of a bus. In 1984, on the heels of an incredibly successful Four Sound Clash (King Jammy’s, Black Scorpio, Youth Promotion International and Black Star) that he kept at Cinema II in the New Kingston Entertainment Centre, Laing began planning a one-night live music showcase to be held the day after Christmas. The auspicious choice of Sting as a name for the Boxing Day show was a manifestation of his continued proximity to the streets. During a conversation with singer Michael “Palma Dog” Palmer while on patrol, Laing picked up on the slang before it was mainstreamed the following year by Patrick Andy’s popular Jammy-produced song, “Sting Me A Sting, Shock Me A Shock.” Sting 1984 featured legends in the making, like Yellow Man, Half Pint, Charlie Chaplin, Brigadier Jerry, Peter Metro and Sugar Minott. Sagittarius Band provided the backing music and Laing even flew Shinehead in from New York. A franchise was born. Inside his office at Supreme Promotions in Kingston, a random selection of posters from past shows prompts a cascade of off-the-record anecdotes spanning almost three full decades of dancehall history. The majority of the stories hinge on variations of three main interrelated themes: clashes, bottles and unpredictable crowds. It seems that Laing struck gold right out of the gate. Outside of a fresh lineup each year, a few venue changes and an amended bottle policy, the format of the show hasn’t changed all that much over the years. Though tag teams are slated to replace one-on-one combat, the clash will be front and center once again at Sting 2012. Current crowd favorite Tommy Lee Sparta, the recently released singjay Busy Signal and the Prodigal Son of Sting Ninjaman anchor a massive all-star lineup that features a wide assortment of veterans and newcomers, including the likes of Sizzla, Aidonia, Popcaan, Kiprich, Mavado, I-Wayne, Tony Matterhorn, Spice, Etana, Romain Virgo, Gyptian, Chuck Fender, Lutan Fyah, Konshens, John Holt, George Nooks, Errol Dunkley and many more. The legacy continues.
Pop-upView Separately

Isaiah Laing is the originator of Sting, Jamaica’s premiere one-night live music event held on Boxing Day (December 26) annually since 1984. His preternatural ability to consistently populate the lineup with a perfect balance of talent has helped the show keep pace with constantly shifting tastes over the course of the past 28 years — but the hallmark of the show has been the clash. A built-in feature since the early days, it wasn’t until the Original Front Tooth Gold Tooth Gun Pon Tooth Don Gorgon (Ninjaman) delivered spectacular back-to-back wins over Shabba Ranks and Super Cat in 1990 and 1991, respectively, that the show achieved its current status as a cultural touchstone. Between the alleged tears provoked by Ninjaman’s mockery of Shabba’s “doo doo pants” and Super Cat’s bottle-to-the-face of an innocent patron coupled with threats to shoot indiscriminately into the bottle-throwing crowd, the events surrounding both clashes generated an unprecedented amount of coverage in the local media, providing endless fodder for arguments that still flare up every year. For die-hard fans of hardcore dancehall, Sting has been a can’t-miss show ever since, and for up-and-coming entertainers eager to break through to the big leagues or veterans seeking renewed relevance, it is the one event on the calendar that cannot be ignored.

Isaiah Laing Sevens Clash Alexander Richter Kingston Jamaica Sting

Isaiah Laing Alexander Richter Sevens Clash Supreme Promotions

Before Sting, Laing was a policeman. Active between 1976 and 1996 he was widely known as a rogue in the mold of men like Trinity, Tony Hewitt and Bigga Ford. A brush with mortality during a gun battle on Matches Lane early in his career led him to embrace a philosophy of duty based around a version of moral equivalency that would conveniently justify any activity outside the parameters of normal police protocol. Much like Texas Ranger John Coffee “Jack” Hays adopted the war tactics and fighting techniques of the feared Comanches along the North American frontier, in wild-West Kingston Laing became a bad man with a badge and a nine. Despite the potboilers overflowing with lurid tales of shootouts and battle scars (starring Laing as valiant crime fighter) that tend to litter the local news cycle around this time of year, his reputation on the street as a ruthless vigilante who has caught more bodies than bullets is deeply etched in popular memory. In 1991, when Tiger asked, “Whe di bad boy police name?” on his hit call and response record, “When,” everybody, including schoolchildren, knew the answer. Today, fully sixteen years since he turned in his badge, the proper reply remains the same, “Laing!”

Isaiah Laing Supreme Promotions Sting

He only started promoting, so the story goes, because he couldn’t afford a car on his meager salary and, with each passing skirmish in the street, was increasingly wary of riding the bus home after work. And so, in 1983, after seven years on the force, Laing organized his first big dance — the now-classic Spanish Town Prison Oval sound clash between Junjo Lawes’ set Volcano Hi-Power and the People’s Choice sound system. 1983 was the last year that he saw the inside of a bus.

image

image

In 1984, on the heels of an incredibly successful Four Sound Clash (King Jammy’s, Black Scorpio, Youth Promotion International and Black Star) that he kept at Cinema II in the New Kingston Entertainment Centre, Laing began planning a one-night live music showcase to be held the day after Christmas. The auspicious choice of Sting as a name for the Boxing Day show was a manifestation of his continued proximity to the streets. During a conversation with singer Michael “Palma Dog” Palmer while on patrol, Laing picked up on the slang before it was mainstreamed the following year by Patrick Andy’s popular Jammy-produced song, “Sting Me A Sting, Shock Me A Shock.” Sting 1984 featured legends in the making, like Yellow Man, Half Pint, Charlie Chaplin, Brigadier Jerry, Peter Metro and Sugar Minott. Sagittarius Band provided the backing music and Laing even flew Shinehead in from New York. A franchise was born.

Sting Boxing Day Kingston Jamaica

Isaiah Laing Alexander Richter Sevens Clash

Inside his office at Supreme Promotions in Kingston, a random selection of posters from past shows prompts a cascade of off-the-record anecdotes spanning almost three full decades of dancehall history. The majority of the stories hinge on variations of three main interrelated themes: clashes, bottles and unpredictable crowds. It seems that Laing struck gold right out of the gate. Outside of a fresh lineup each year, a few venue changes and an amended bottle policy, the format of the show hasn’t changed all that much over the years. Though tag teams are slated to replace one-on-one combat, the clash will be front and center once again at Sting 2012. Current crowd favorite Tommy Lee Sparta, the recently released singjay Busy Signal and the Prodigal Son of Sting Ninjaman anchor a massive all-star lineup that features a wide assortment of veterans and newcomers, including the likes of Sizzla, Aidonia, Popcaan, Kiprich, Mavado, I-Wayne, Tony Matterhorn, Spice, Etana, Romain Virgo, Gyptian, Chuck Fender, Lutan Fyah, Konshens, John Holt, George Nooks, Errol Dunkley and many more. The legacy continues.

Sting Sevens Clash Isaiah Laing

Sevens Clash Sting Me A Sting Isaiah Laing Sean Stewart Anthony Harrison Alexander Richter