Champions for life

BY MICHAEL DOBIE | Staff Writer

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The fearsome-looking man with the shaved head and goatee was introduced as a former professional kick boxer, a man who never lost a fight inside the ring, a man known on the street for cruelty and violence. The prisoners in the A2 pod of Nassau County Jail applauded.

Then Johnny Spinks limped forward.

"Even though I don't know what it's like to lose in the ring, I know fully what it means to lose in the game of life," Spinks said.

Impaired by a knee brace and walking cast, he parried jabs from a prisoner and threw punches.

"The addiction that has been with me through my life was an addiction to violence," Spinks said. "When I got into the ring and looked at the guy on the other side, everything in my body wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill him. Something was wrong."

Spinks is a member of Champions for Life, a Texas-based prison ministry that calls itself "the largest front-line evangelistic prison ministry in the world." That is not hyperbole.

Champions for Life has a $3-million budget and runs programs in 42 states and six foreign countries. Its more than 30,000 volunteers visit more than 300 prisons each year.

The organization was founded in 1969 by Bill Glass, an all-American football player at Baylor University who played 11 NFL seasons with the Detroit Lions and Cleveland Browns. Glass' ministry is steeped in sports. Volunteers are "Teammates." A prison or jail visit is a "Weekend of Champions" or a "Ring of Champions."

Champions for Life does not field teams or play games. Famous athletes do demonstrations, then talk to prisoners about changing their lives. The roster has included Michael Jordan, Roger Staubach, Tom Landry, Rosie Greer, Trent Dilfer, Mike Singletary and Reggie White.

"Everybody is kind of drawn to athletes," Spinks said. "We use that as a platform to create interest. It gives me almost instant credibility. I think it just bridges that gap."

Spinks' message to the prisoners in the jail in East Meadow was typical. He started boxing at 13 and was undefeated as an amateur and in 11 fights as a pro. At the same time, he was getting into fights in the street. One opponent blew off the top of Spinks' scalp with a shotgun.

"I knew I shouldn't be so crazy, so out of control, because I was going to end up dead or in prison," Spinks said. "Still, I couldn't control that madness."

Ten years ago, he crashed his motorcycle at more than 100 mph. The most severe of many injuries was a nearly severed left ankle. He needed multiple surgeries to insert four steel pins and eight steel rods and was on crutches for four months. At 31, his athletic career was over.

"Life is like a lemon: Squeeze it hard enough and everything inside will come out," Spinks told the prisoners. "I can tell you what was inside of me: anger. And anger will ruin your life. I said, 'Something has got to change.'"

Spinks began to rethink his life and hooked up with Glass. Now he visits some 150 prisons a year.

"I never get tired," Spinks said. "You've got to make a difference. I've got to use my physical attributes while I can."