The story of Bernard “Superbad” Mays, described as the best boxer of his era by those who knew him, and yet a talent wasted and a name unknown to many boxing fans.
A record of 200 amatuer bouts with only 1 defeat, and 40 pro bouts with only 1 defeat in the last fight of his career.
By 16 he was an alcoholic and in 1994 at aged 33 he died penniless from the effects of that alcoholism.
Mays trained at the famous Kronk boxing gym in Detroit in the 1970's, a gym that was in the process of producing some of the greatest champions of the following decade, and for a while unsung Bernard Mays was the daddy of them all.
Speaking of his amatuer fights, legendary Kronk trainer Emmanual Stewart said "the first two or three rows would be packed with managers and trainers who had brought their boxers to see Superbad Mays"
Multiple weight World Champion Tommy Hearns said of him “Bernard Mays was the king. I almost gave up boxing because I dreaded going to the gym every day. I knew I’d have to get in the ring with Bernard.”
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The following piece was written by Fred Girard (The Detroit News)....
Best of all
“He was the most talented Kronk boxer of all,” Steward said. “He was like a legend, really.”
Kronk boxers says Steward is not exaggerating.
“It gives me chills just to talk about him,” said Robert Tyus of Detroit, one of the original Kronk team, winner of two amateur national titles. “Superbad Mays was like Sugar Ray Robinson — he had it all.”
“Superbad Mays was the awesomest fighter I ever saw — he could devour you,” said John Johnson of Detroit, who won a national amateur title under Steward. “Speed is power — it’s the punch you can’t see that knocks you out — and Bernard had a wicked left hook that would just take the breath from your body.”
Tournament winner at 14
When he was 14, Mays swept to victory in the 106-pound class of the national Junior Olympic tournament. Two years later, he repeated in the 139-pound division. He fought more than 200 times as an amateur, losing only once, and at every fight, Steward said, the first two or three rows would be packed with managers and trainers who had brought their boxers to see Superbad Mays.
But, “Bernard started disappearing on me,” Steward said. “He’d always been quiet, but he got moody, stopped showing up at the gym regular.”
Sixteen-year-old Superbad Mays had become addicted to Colt .45 malt liquor.
“Bernard and I had been drinking and smoking since we were 14,” acknowledged Eric Williams. That was also about the time, family members say, Prince Milton left and stopped being any influence on his young son’s life.
Former world lightweight champion Jimmy Paul said that at the 1977 Ohio State Fair national tournament “I’d be in bed sound asleep the night before every fight, and Bernard would be out drinking beer with the ladies all night, then come in and absolutely destroy everybody else in the tournament.”
"Tommy Hearns’ first loss of deep significance came in a sparring match with Bernard ‘Superbad’ Mays. At the time Hearns was confident, flush with amateur success. He would eventually amass an amateur record of 155-8 and win the 1977 National Amateur Athletic Union Light Welterweight Championship and National Golden Gloves Light Welterweight Championship.
This day he was literally broken and remade.
Mays crushed Hearns’ nose. Some young men would have quit the ring. Hearns’ reacted with disgust and determination. He returned to the gym a different fighter, and the change was evident to everyone present. From that day the effects of that punch showed like a badge on Hearns’ face."
Turned pro in 1978
When he turned professional in 1978, Mays parted company with Steward, who had hounded him about his drinking. His next manager, Chuck Davis, tried just as hard, and had just as little success.
Mays hired noted Oakland County attorney Elbert Hatchett to break his contract with Davis. After he did so, Hatchett, who fought as a kid and followed the game all his life, decided to manage and promote Mays himself.
“We lost a ton of money,” Hatchett said. “Bernard fought like Joe Louis. He was a middleweight, a classic boxer, just classic. He was the first guy (who) I saw knock somebody out hitting him in the side. But he would drink beer all the time.”
Roland Scott, Mays’ last trainer, said. “That beer just tore him up. He would get absolutely smashed.”
Won 40 straight
At the age of 31, Mays had fought 40 times as a pro and won them all, when everything caught up with him in a bout in California. An opponent hit Mays hard and staggered him badly, costing Mays the fight. The next day Hatchett had him in a hospital.
Mays’ alcohol-damaged pancreas was dangerously inflamed.
The doctor told Hatchett, “Look, this condition has progressed to such a point that he takes his life in his own hands if he decides to fight,” the doctor told Hatchett.
Superbad Mays would fight no more.
He stayed with his mother for a time, and after she died, a broke Mays entered the New Light Nursing Home in Detroit.
“He walked in here under his own power,” said administrator George Talley, and stayed for nearly a year.
In the final weeks his condition deteriorated rapidly. “When I saw him there at the end, his stomach was so swollen it looked like he was pregnant,” trainer Scott said.
On March 1, 1994, at 9:55 p.m., Superbad Mays’ heart stopped, unable to fight any longer against the crushing load of diabetes, chronic pancreatitis and chronic malabsorption syndrome.
He is buried in an unmarked grave — Section 4, Row 18, grave No. 36 — in Mt. Hazel, a small cemetery on Detroit’s far west side that has been closed for years.
Mays’ sister, Esther Farley of Ypsilanti, signed the death certificate.
“It was a painful thing to visit Bernard” in the nursing home, she said. “He was always a real charmer, a sweetheart — who knows where his life might have led?
“But alcoholism is a terrible disease.”
