If there was any doubt who the father of Harvard boxing is, all one has to do is look at the label on the equipment room door in the Malkin Athletic Center. Written in big bold letters is the insignia "Coach Tommy Rawson."

At the age of 90, Rawson is still as active as most Harvard students, promptly coming to the MAC from Monday to Friday for his two-and-a -half hours of training and mentoring. Although the Harvard Boxing Club has about 25 members who regularly show up for practice, and many others who stop by on an inconsistent basis, one can always rely on seeing "Coach" and his big smile on the second floor of the athletic facility.

He provides invaluable advice and assistance to aspiring Crimson pugilists, and adds more than a lifetime's worth of boxing experiences that date back to his amateur days in the 1920s.

As a young boy in East Boston, he needed to look no further than his dad to gain an interest in the sport he has participated in for almost 80 years. His father taught boxing classes at the Boys Club in Charlestown, Mass. after an illustrious career.

"When I was 12 or 13 years old I'd go there after school and box with different young fellows," Rawson said in a previous interview with Harvard Magazine. "I learned the ropes that way."

After endless hours of preparation and training, which included daily ten mile runs and plenty of sparring, Rawson finally found his moment to shine at the age of 20.

He captured the New England Lightweight Amateur Championship in 1929 just two years into his competitive boxing career. Rawson then traveled to the newly built Chicago Stadium, affectionately known as the Madhouse on Madison, with his New England club to compete in the national amateur tournament.

With his liquid-quick left jab working to perfection, he breezed through the competition to win the junior national lightweight title with such distinguished individuals such as Al Capone and Gene Autry looking on from the stands.

"I'm not sure if you kids remember who he is, but [Autry] came out right before the matches and did a rodeo routine," Rawson comments. "It was a great experience."

Shortly after the tournament, Rawson decided it was time to move on to the next level and turned professional. He left behind an amateur career that still stands as one of the most impressive ever.

"I fought 227 fights as an amateur and won 223 of them," Rawson says with a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "And the four decisions that I lost, I beat those fellas afterwards. So you could say that I rectified the defeats that I had. I remember the one time I beat this one fella up pretty good and when someone asked him what happened the next day, he just said, 'I fought that Rawson lad.'"

For the next 11 years, he traveled all across North America as a 135-pound lightweight. Unlike today where there are numerous divisions under which boxers can compete for championships, Rawson fought in an era where there were only eight weight classes.

"I think that [boxing officials] have ruined the game by having all these different divisions and champions," Rawson says. "It's too confusing to follow."

As he said in an earlier interview, "These days a kid fights 12 times and he's got a title shot at one of those [fake] weights."

By the time he retired in 1941, Rawson had assembled an impressive 74-5 record.

"I fought all over the USA and Canada," Rawson comments. "I had 79 professional fights, and of the five I lost, I fought return matches with the fellas who beat me and Bob Montgomery, the eventual world champion, was the only one I couldn't beat."

He twice came within a match of fighting legendary world lightweight champion Henry Armstrong, and stills gets angry thinking about one of the two bouts he felt was stolen from him by the judges.

Although the referees gave him seven out of the 10 rounds in the fight with European champion Enrico Ventouri in 1938, the two judges decided differently and Rawson lost by a single point.

"It was the worst robbery you've ever seen," he states repeatedly.

Although he came just short of a chance to claim the world lightweight title, Rawson continued to fight distinguished boxers until he stopped three years later.

"I fought the Canadian champ Maxi Berger four times," he says. "I beat him twice in New York at the Garden and then went [to Canada] and beat him there twice."

After quitting in 1941 at the wish of his wife, Rawson still remained tied to the sport he had grown up loving. Despite owning a trucking company, he soon worked his way back into the sport as a coach and referee.

He actually coached Rocky Marciano as an amateur. Although many remember Marciano's 49-0 professional record with 43 knockouts, Rawson still goes back to one fight Rocky lost.

As an amateur, 6 foot 3 inch Joe De Angelis scored a decision over The Brockton Blockbuster.

"There was no doubt that the fight was stolen from him," he says. "In my mind he had won the match, but the judges didn't see it the same way."

Rawson began teaching at Harvard the same year he retired as well. He had coached as an assistant at MIT during the 1930s while still in boxing, and felt a deep connection to the city he grew up in.

"I always came from the Boston area, East Boston, and wanted to settle down here," he says.

As a professional referee, Rawson began to distinguish himself just as he had done when he was the one handing down the punishment in the ring. He actually worked two of Sugar Ray Robinson's title bouts, and was often called upon by the boxing commission for the more important fights.

He ended up joining the boxing commission after refereeing for quite a few years, and met the likes of Joe Frazier, Muhammad Ali, and Sugar Ray Lee.

Yet Rawson has always remained loyal to Harvard since he first came here in 1941. Known simply as "Coach" at the MAC, he tries to confer some of his vast boxing wisdom upon the lucky Harvard students who get to train in his presence on the second floor.

"The kids here know what they're supposed to be doing [in terms of training], and if they do any differently, they know they won't be boxing anymore," he comments jokingly.

Rawson also works on his golf game whenever he gets the chance. Just ten years ago he shot two holes in one during a single round at the Winchester Country Club. Researchers at the club were unable to find a precedent for such an occurrence.

He had been golfing at the site for 48 years and never aced a hole before then.

As one writer pointed out at the time: "[It's] like hitting the jackpot on the slot machine in Las Vegas, and then returning to your hotel room to find Kim Basinger." Although this 80's lingo might be better translated now as winning a million on Regis's show and finding Carmen Electra, the impressiveness of his feat remains evident.

Although he doesn't have any regrets about his career and accomplishments, Rawson still feels a little bit sad about the demise of inter-collegiate boxing at Harvard. Boxing became an intramural sport here in 1937 and the Ivy League no longer has any varsity teams, with only Harvard, Dartmouth, and Colombia maintaining it as a club sport.

"We used to box with other colleges like MIT," Rawson said. "But then colleges like University of New Hampshire, Syracuse, Army, and Navy started giving [amateur boxers] scholarships to come there. We just couldn't compete with them."

"Harvard never did that," he adds. "That wasn't what the Ivy League did. Eventually they said we're not boxing with other colleges so they stopped [the competition] here."

Yet just by talking to him for a few minutes, one can see how much more fun he would be having if there was inter-collegiate matches for the Crimson to participate in.

"It used to be great," he says. "Harvard versus Yale, Harvard and Dartmouth, the Ivy League, back when it was only college men. But college boxing just died out."

If there is any doubt about just how big a legend Rawson is in the boxing community, the 300 person birthday bash that the USA Boxing New England commission threw in his honor last November should help alleviate it. Guests included not only the US Marine Corps boxing team but top amateur fighters from the New England area as well.

Rawson sees a bright future for the sport he has participated in for the last 80 years, but maintains that it could be improved by cutting down the number of divisions available to compete in.

"Boxing is still a great sport, if it's handled correctly under the rules and regulations that are good for it," he says. "It's not right for a group of men to say that they're going to have a different championship, which several promoters have done."

And what is his opinion about the pugilist formerly known as Mike Tyson?

"I would suspend him but tell him he can fight again for the championship only if he donates his purse to boxing charities."

Tommy Rawson - a man, a myth, and a legend. So next time you're walking upstairs at the MAC to ride a bike or play some basketball, just keep in mind that his office door is always open. He's never short of stories and you just might find yourself putting on a pair gloves if you stay long enough.