When he was 3, Max Kellerman bit through the cord of a family clock.
The electric shock fused his lips, required surgery to part them and left him with a permanent scar.
It was the only time the brash brat shut up.
Five years ago I met Mad Max at Carnegie Deli in New York, and he droned on interminably and irritatingly. At long last, I interrupted: “I don’t know who you are, but you apparently have me confused with someone who cares what you say.”
People do care what Kellerman says.
And this high-voltage pipsqueak from Greenwich Village, who has an ego larger than the five boroughs of New York, is the best thing to happen to boxing since Howard Cosell and Muhammad Ali.
HBO has signed the 34-year-old Kellerman to be a main analyst on the network’s major (free) fights and pay-per-view events, and he will debut at the Ricky Hatton-Jose Luis Castillo welterweight championship bout June 23 in Las Vegas (where Kellerman once bought me a $5 steak that was tougher than a raging bull’s ribs).
I have received thousands of e-mails from high school and college students, ex-professional athletes and plumbers citing their love for, and vast knowledge of, sports and asking how they can become overnight TV stars.
Take Max. Please.
As a kid he studied the history of boxing while other boys collected baseball cards. He could recite all the champions faster than classmates could utter the alphabet. At 16, Kellerman was watching a televised bout with his father, a psychologist (by necessity with four crazy sons in the house) when a boxing commentator described a flurry of punches. His mouth having been reopened by doctors (unfortunately, some would believe), Max bragged: “I can do better than that.” A few days later Kellerman had his own cable-access program in New York and soon became an overnight TV star. He continued the show while attending Columbia University and planned to become an attorney (as Cosell was). However, after graduation, Max was offered several network jobs.
He has droned on regularly for ESPN, FOX Sports, Spike, Showtime and MSNBC, has a daily radio talk show in New York and was the ringside analyst when Rocky Balboa, in the recent movie, climbed into the ring for the last time, turned and said: “Hi, Max.”
See how easy it is, youngsters and plumbers’ helpers?
The climb hasn’t been without deadly trauma, though.
Kellerman and James Butler were introduced in a Times Square boxing gym when they were teenagers, and they remained friends even though the welterweight spent time in prison for assault and later was suspended as a pro because he slugged an opponent after the bell. In September of 2004, Butler moved to Los Angeles and was offered a place to live by Kellerman’s younger brother and best friend, Sam, a promising filmmaker.
A month later Sam was found murdered in his apartment, a hammer lying next to his body. Butler’s boxing nickname was “The Harlem Hammer.” He ultimately pleaded guilty to manslaughter and was sentenced to 30 years.
Max, as chronicled in an article last year in Sports Illustrated, blamed himself for the death of his brother and was knocked into deep depression. He worked on without his heart in boxing or broadcasting. But he finally got off the mat and dedicated his life and career to Sam.
Max has another permanent scar.
Boxing and Max need each other. The sport is at 8-9 and being counted out. Young people are more interested in Ultimate Fighting Championships and martial arts. Boxing is for the Joe Louis-Rocky Marciano- and-Ali crowd. Cauliflower- eared tomato cans are what we’re stuck with.
Fighting had faltered badly when Sonny Liston, who lived for a while in Denver, reigned as the heavyweight champion. But Ali and Cosell made boxing widely popular in this country once more. They were abhorred and/or adored. The Louisville Lip and the Manhattan Mouth transformed themselves into international icons.
Kellerman is some of both. His extraordinary mouth and mind will matter in a MaX generation of boxing’s palookas and power tools.
With jaws wide open, Max Kellerman is ready to bite again. There will be electricity.
Staff writer Woody Paige can be reached at 303-954-1095 or wpaige@denverpost.com.
