AJC Article Her tale carries reel-life wallop
Woman boxer's life like new film's plot
BYLINE: MICHELLE HISKEY
DATE: January 30, 2005
PUBLICATION: Atlanta Journal-Constitution, The (GA)
EDITION: Home; The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
SECTION: Sports
PAGE: D1
A thirty-something woman from the trailer park shows up in a gym, risking her heart and body for the one thing in life that makes her feel really good: boxing.
That's the plot of the Oscar-nominated movie "Million Dollar Baby." It also sums up the journey of local fighter and ex-cop Terri "The Boss" Moss.
"Somebody stole my story," Moss laughed this week as she wrapped her hands in black tape at the Decatur Boxing Club, where she trains as the No. 2-ranked strawweight in the Women's International Boxing Association. "My brother says people should call me 'The $3,400 Baby.' "
That's the amount she won in 2003 when she fought and lost in Spain for the WIBA junior flyweight title.
At 5 feet 1 1/2, 105 pounds and 39 years old, she looks like Tinkerbell with muscles and well-earned wrinkles. Her reality is far from fortune: She remains in debt after sponsoring her own title fight last month, a loss to Hollie "Hot Stuff" Dunaway in Doraville.
Moss is legit, too, having worked as a "cut man" in the corner for male fighters before getting in the ring herself.
"She is part of a segment of [female] boxers in town who really are athletes and serious about training," said state boxing commissioner Tom Mishou, who counts about two dozen Georgia women as serious fighters. "I think she will stay in the environment of boxing more than most of the female boxers, because she genuinely has an affinity for the sport from several directions."
Her record (6-6) won't draw many headlines. Her story and her heart, though, illuminates why anyone -- male or female -- enters the ring. Her life is shaped by a pull that she can't completely describe: the attraction to dominate someone else through the raw power of gloved fists.
"Even if I was to die in the ring, that's boxing. Every time I step in the ring, I know I might not get out," she said. "People die in boxing every year. If that happened to me, I'd have no regrets."
A tough start
Boxing -- especially on screen -- is a celebration of the underdog, the rise from rags to right jabs. That is where Moss started.
She grew up in Athens in a rough family situation not unlike the main character in "Million Dollar Baby" who comes from a family of shady characters who live in a trailer park.
"I can relate to that," Moss said Friday at a matinee showing of the movie. "My family was kind of a messy thing. . . . Pretty much anywhere there was a little slum in Athens, I've been there. We had alcoholics and drug abusers, although boxing has helped bring us together and not be just these broken shells of humans."
Moss quit school at 16, gave birth to a daughter the next year and eventually went through three divorces. She finished her GED at age 25 when she decided to become a police officer bicycling around the University of Georgia campus. She moved into undercover narcotics work.
"She's very small, but I would not tangle with her, and I'm over 200 pounds," said Auburn, Ga., police chief Frederick Brown, her most recent employer. "She's one heck of a cop, and I'd like to have her back."
Four years ago in Athens, a female friend of Moss' had just gotten divorced and fantasized about breaking her ex's jaw. The two women went to a crude boxing setup.
"A shed with no doors on two sides and a garden hose on the floor to [mark the sides of the] ring," Moss said. "Dogs would get our gloves, and we had to go out in the yard and find them," Moss said. "The only bag they had was a water bag [a softer target used for rehab]."
Moss was intrigued. She had quit smoking after 18 years and usually stayed fit through aerobics and running, was intrigued. She liked the strong, fast bodies of the boxers she saw, their lightning reflexes. She wanted that, and the respect accorded to winners.
"Mostly I wanted to prove to myself that I could be a success," she said. "I felt good about myself in the ring, that it was an accomplishment. Boxing takes guts. You can't quit when you're down. It's symbolic of life -- it's going to come after you, and you got to fight."
Dates intimidated
After working the corners for other fighters, she started competing. She lost, but managed not to get knocked out. She also fought against the perceptions of others.
"Some people from my church were appalled. My family thought I was making a fool out of myself," Moss recalled. "When I was 0-2, my brother said, 'When are you going to fight again so you can be 0-3?' Even now I don't know if they know the level I'm on."
Other fighters encounter similar misconceptions.
Janaya Davis of Norcross, 31, an Atlanta firefighter and middleweight who would like to challenge Laila Ali, said dating is difficult. "With most guys, I don't tell them I'm a firefighter and I box," she said. "They are intimidated, so I don't like to tell them. Guys will say, 'Don't try to talk to her or she'll hit you. Don't ask her for a date.' I tell them, 'I get paid to box; I don't go around hitting people.' People think you're hard, and I'm not like that at all."
In real life, as in the cinematic version, women fighters have a hard time finding trainers. Moss was 0-3 when she hooked up with Xavier Biggs, the brother of Olympic gold medalist Tyrell Biggs.
"I have trained about five world champion female boxers and she has the most unique story," Biggs said. "It's impressive that her skills are at the level they are with her background the way it is."
Moss broke through in September 2002 by beating Nina Ahlin, a former Falcons cheerleader. That helped set up the November 2003 fight in Spain against junior flyweight Maria Rosa.
"I worked her corner in Spain, and it was pretty nauseating to be that close and physically see every punch she gets and gives," said her daughter Melissa Maxey, 22, of Athens. But boxing, Maxey said, is an expression of Moss' belief that "you only have this life once and you just do what you can."
Bringing awareness
Moss and others have fought the sketchy reputation of women boxers in Georgia. According to boxing commissioner Mishou, the state had been a source of sham female boxers -- strippers, exotic dancers or prostitutes drawn to the ring for looks, not skills, and the lure of a few hundred dollars.
"The little beauties just there for show, because promoters wanted to see a catfight -- we've gotten rid of that," he said. "Women's boxing does have obstacles. It will never reach the level of popularity of male boxers, but it's not just a passing fad. You will always have good athletes who see the challenge of the sport and go for it."
Promoters, meanwhile, love to put a woman's fight on the card. 'If a girl knocks another girl out, or just hits her in the face, it's like a cult phenom," said Atlanta promoter David Oblas, who has a Feb. 18 fight scheduled between Janaya Davis and Ijeoma Egbunine. "Whether they are well-matched or mismatched, the females love it and males love it -- the males love anything that involves two females."
Laila Ali, the daughter of Muhammad Ali, will fight at Philips Arena on Feb. 11. Her husband and fight promoter, Atlanta native Johnny "YahYa" McClain, said "Million Dollar Baby" might put more fans in the seats.
"It's bringing awareness and creating buzz about women's boxing," McClain said. "People are calling and want to talk about it in interviews with Laila. That's got to be good for the sport."
Moss would like another shot at the 102-pound WIBA world title. Pushing 40, Moss knows her age makes it difficult to get a fight. Some countries ban older boxers.
For now, Moss makes a living as a fitness instructor at KBX, a kickboxing business in Alpharetta. The movie "Million Dollar Baby" is up for seven Oscars, including best actress. No matter how many awards it wins, Moss believes, the fiction on screen rarely touches the truth in real-world boxing.
She's lived it.
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