In the ring, they come and go, and they're not talking about DiMaggio. On Thursday, we welcome back Tommy Morrison; on Saturday, we say fond farewell to Johnny Tapia.That's what we love about boxing. Characters welcome. I was going to write a column about Presidents, and how they would have fit in boxing. I started with George Washington, although the WBC had him ranked only 18th. Washington reputedly said, “I cannot tell a lie.” Obviously, that disqualified him from any position in boxing.

Honest Abe, though, what a perfect name for a promoter….Lincoln couldn't make it as a fighter. He was shot. But enough of dead presidents. Let's talk about living fighters, one of whom has tried suicide and the other who has been under the HIV cloud for more than a decade.

Hopefully, this retirement thing will stick with Tapia. Thing that worries all of us who love him and Teresa is if he'll be able to handle the quiet of a post-fight career. “Mi Vida Loca.” Let him always remember how much he means to Teresa and the kids and to his millions of fans. Johnny turned 40 a week ago and not too many 40-year-old lives have seen so much pain - from witnessing the murder and rape of his mother, to being abused, to battles with drugs - and he should be an inspiration to anyone who has ever had a break go against him.

I wish him family and love and lots of laughs for the future. He waves goodbye Saturday night in his hometown of Albuquerque.

The Duke didn't have it all that easy, either. He's been off for ten years because he tested positive for the HIV virus before he was to fight in Vegas. I forget why I was there that night. It was a long, long Don King show. He was bringing back Morrison after the Duke's blowout by Lewis a few months earlier and with him off the card, I believe Felix Trinidad was in the main and Christy Martin was elevated to TV status and her exciting performance gave women's boxing its first big lift.

But the buzz was all about Morrison. The Nevada State Athletic Commission, for reasons of confidentiality, could not reveal the exact reason Morrison was not allowed to participate, saying only he failed a physical, a new part of which was testing for the virus that causes AIDS. Morrison and AIDS just didn't go together. He was reportedly the most heterosexual of heavyweights. I know one guy, who partied with some of the same women Morrison did, who sweated what he would have to tell his wife should he test HIV-positive.

Morrison, of course, denied it. For years. He got in one fight that first year when journeyman Marcus Rhodes agreed to risk the trip to Japan, but for most of the time, Morrison was, well, in denial. He refused to take the prescribed medicines and since he didn't contract AIDS or die, he pronounced himself cured. We all shook our heads sadly and wisely.

Nevada of course says its 1996 test was accurate, but now we all have to wonder. Morrison has recently passed a battery of HIV tests. His fiancee says she's been sleeping with him and she's healthy. Morrison claims he was the victim of a false positive. It sounds like a lawsuit, but even more like a book and a film. For the first time in ten years,\ Morrison will be fighting tonight, Thursaday night, some shlub off-television in West Virginia - and since boxing loves its little ironies, it was a card originally to be headed by Ray Mercer, who gave the Duke a terrible beating in 1991, and which has another comebacking heavyweight, Joe Mesi, in the semifinal on Versus.

It'll be worth tuning in, not only to see where Mesi is, but to hear Wallace Matthews of Versus interview Morrison, see what his intentions are.

Obviously, first he would like to see if he can resume an almost storybook career - well, if you don't count the three devastating knockouts, one of which was my fault as Bob Arum would be the first to tell you. He was a star and not simply because he was white and attractive to the ladies. He was Oklahoma rough with a great smile and enough charm to keep getting second chances.

He was, to some degree, a “manufactured” star. Bill Cayton, his wise old manager, dug up some fuzzy family connection to John Wayne (whose real last name was Morrison), thus the “Duke” nickname, and he got him a gig with Sylvester Stallone in “Rocky V” where he played “Tommy Gunn.” He was perhaps rushed a bit as a prospect - Cayton couldn't wait to thumb his nose at those involved in getting Mike Tyson away from him - but losing to Ray Mercer and Lennox Lewis did not stamp Morrison as a worthless fighter. He did outpoint ol' George Foreman, well, that's what the judges said, to win a vacant WBOgus title and set up a multimillion-dollar payday with Lewis in England.

A funny thing happened on the way to the scaffold. Me. Morrison's first defense of the WBO belt was in Kansas City, where he made his home much of the time, against Tim Tomashek, who was taken out of the stands by Arum to be the challenger. Arum had a TV date for Morrison, and asked me if I would come out to cover a Morrison WBO title fight in Kansas City.

As much as I like a good steak, I told Arum, I needed to know the opponent. I was working then for the New York Daily News, whose budget wouldn't allow its boxing writer to make frivolous trips. Now it turns out that I had just spotted one of the Daily News Golden Gloves graduates on television, winning his tenth pro fight, a ten-round decision over Mark Wills.

“Michael Bent,” I said to Arum (back then, he spelled it with one “t,” not two. “Maybe to cover a Daily News Golden Gloves champion with a good story (his father had hit the New York lottery, refused to spoil his son with the money, moved to Florida and then hit the Florida lottery).”

Arum was wary. I told him, “Look, Bent can't punch, he can't take a shot and other than that, you're on your own.” Arum said if I could convince Bill Cayton. I gave Cayton the same sales pitch. Somehow, the good people of Kansas City suggested that Arum take his carnival somewhere else and the fight had been plopped into Tulsa. Not that I wanted to go to Tulsa, but Bent was a delightful kid and I hoped to get him a nice payday. Cayton said he didn't like the fight.

Arum must have worked on him, because suddenly it was made and soon I was off to Oral Roberts' hometown. There, I was greeted with open arms by the Bent team - manager Stan Hoffman and trainer Eddie Mustafa Muhammad. Hoffman said even he didn't think of the idea of getting Bent a shot against Morrison.

I remember standing at ringside as Bent made his entry, thinking to myself, “What have I done? What if he gets hurt in there? It'll be my fault.”

It almost happened. Morrison just missed a haymaker, I mean by a whisker, and Bent hastily retreated to the ropes. Morrison opened up with both hands, standing directly in front of his trapped prey. You could see Bent timing him. Boom. He shot out a right hand. Just missed. It should at least have warned Morrison of the danger of ignoring defense. It didn't. He had been out partying with fellow Oklahoman Sean O'Grady and he stepped right back into another Bent right hand. The fight and the $6 million payday with Lewis were over. The time, 1:33 of the first round. First thing Bent did was add a “t” to his last name.

Well, he got me a trip to London, too. For his first WBO defense, Bentt had to meet Herbie Hide of England. He was battered, collapsed in the dressing room and would never be able to fight again. He is a struggling actor these days, still one of my favorites.

Meanwhile, back in Tulsa that night, Arum had a plane to catch to take him to a fight of his rising new star, Oscar de la Hoya, in Phoenix. As the Tulsa fans stood stunned at the post-fight presss conference, the promoter pointed to me and said, “Him, it's all his fault.” On the plane to Phoenix, Arum's brilliant numbers cruncher, Mike Malitz, had to avail himself of the men's room. There was no toilet paper. Malitz asked Arum to see if he could find something. Arum handed him the Lewis-Morrison contract.

I don't know if Morrison's ten lost years is anyone's “fault.” Let him thrive; besides, the division could use his help.

Speaking of which, while Shannon Briggs recovers from pneumonia, his would-be challenger, Sultan Ibramigov, has been mentioned as trying to keep the March 10 HBO date in New York with such flotsam and jetsam as the aforementioned Mr. Mercer - last time I looked, 44, and completely gone - Taurus Sykes and Dominic Guinn. Boy, you don't want to take too big a chance, do you? Guinn angrily turned down the $20,000 offer made by Ibragimov's obviously uncertain backers….Sport is not dead, despite HBO's fine works. Last Friday, there were five televised cards. Okay, nothing I'd interrupt “Monk” for, but the sheer volume was enough to make obituary writers take it easy.

PENTHOUSE: Tapia and Morrison. Perseverance is a noble art….Good to see Buddy McGirt, courtesy of Sechew Powell (much, much closer than myopic New York judges had it over Ishe Smith) and Paul Malignaggi, back in the winner's circle.

OUTHOUSE: Nah, I'm going to leave HBOring alone. Well, maybe an incredulous mention of how the geniuses could turn down Joel Casamayor from a rematch with Acelino Freitas….How about a weekend where the biggest bout probably involves Stipe Drews, which still sounds like some dish made from lamb entrails, against Silvio (What? He's Still Around?) Branco?...Doesn't Congress have more important things to worry about than creating a Federal boxing commission?

DIS AND THAT: You think Floyd Mayweather Sr. purposely priced himself out of the gig to train Oscar de la Hoya against Floyd Jr. by asking for $2 million? One trainer cracked, “The only way to get Oscar to pay you $2 million is to have his baby.” Freddie Roach will get $1.3 million for the thankless job, which means he won't be around Manny Pacquiao - and Bob Arum - when the PacMan faces unbeaten Mexican Jorge Solis on April 14 in the Alamodome, San Antonio….Can't wait for Roy Jones Jr. and Tommy Morrison, right after “Rocky Balboa II.”...Where have you gone, Michelangelo?

M

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