Brad Croaker details life in boxing, 'hard' upbringing ahead of Hall of Fame induction
· Yahoo Sports
Mar. 12—Editor's Note: This story was initially published in the Pioneer's Spring 2026 edition of inBemidji Magazine. To see the full issue, click
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Brad Croaker took a slow, composed walk to the squared circle on Dec. 20, 2008, at Northern Lights Casino in Walker. He didn't know it at the time, but he was entering his final professional boxing match at 31 years old.
It had been over two years since he was on the receiving end of a phone call from a fight promoter. A Leech Lake Band member raised in Cass Lake for most of his life, Brad amassed a decorated boxing career. However, injuries shelved his brief professional stint after 146 officially counted amateur matches.
For one night in 2008, though, Brad got back in the ring.
"I trained for maybe about a month," he said. "I had to lose 25, maybe 30 pounds in two or three weeks, which I did. I got in that ring and felt strong."
Standing in the ring across from him was Mike Howell, a former mixed martial arts fighter.
"Dude, that guy was strong," Brad said. "I ran into some strong guys I could hit, but this guy would just not stop. He just kept coming. My athleticism and skill got me through that fight."
Through the first two rounds, Brad felt good. He shook the in-ring rust off and had the upper hand over Howell. But midway through his third round, his tank was approaching empty.
"I was dragging ass," he quipped. "I was dead tired."
Howell had the edge later in the fight, sending Brad to his corner for the final time before the last round. His dad, William Croaker, was in Brad's corner as always.
"I told my dad, 'I don't think I can go back out there,'" Brad recalled. "He kept me going through a lot of fights throughout my career. He saw the things I couldn't see."
From 1985 to 2008, Brad's boxing career took him from a simple life in northern Minnesota to competing in sold-out NBA stadiums and crossing paths with famed fighters on a global scale. Brad believed for years that his life in boxing culminated in his final professional bout against Howell.
However, 18 years after he walked out of Northern Lights Casino with head-to-toe bruises, utter exhaustion and the winning purse, the memories of his life in the ring resurfaced when he got the call about his induction into the North American Indigenous Athletics Hall of Fame as part of the 2026 class.
For many of the honored figures, the tales of their lives in sports are well-documented, living in community lore and printed on banners hanging in their gyms.
For Brad, though, the details of how he rose to become one of Minnesota's best amateur boxers have been lost over time amid the sport's decreasing popularity on a local and regional level.
Until now.
As Brad, now 49, sat on the stool ahead of the last round against Howell in 2008, his dad's message was familiar. Brad called his father a "stickler."
"He lifts me up and smacked me," he recalled with a laugh. "'What are you talking about? You ain't quitting. What the hell are you talking about? You never quit in your life. Get back out there.' So I did."
As a young kid, Brad and his family moved back and forth between Bemidji and Cass Lake until Cass Lake became a more permanent home when he was 14. Along with his father, Brad was raised by his mom, Wanda Faye Headbird. He has two brothers, William Croaker Jr. and Archie LaRose, and one sister, Angie Londgren.
Brad was born into a family that had to stretch a dollar further than others. He played every sport he could as a kid as an escape.
He was 9 years old when he stepped into a boxing ring competitively for the first time in 1985, one year too young to officially compete in the amateur ranks. Ten years old is the cutoff to compete in the National Silver Gloves Association, while 16 was the barrier to compete in the famed Golden Gloves of America organization — but it didn't matter.
Pushed by his friends to give boxing a try, Brad unofficially took part in 16 matches at 9 years old. He went a perfect 16-0.
"It was a good first year," Brad said with a laugh. "My first trophy kept me in it. It was trophies, medals, belts, things like that. You gave me an opportunity to win something, being a young kid who had a hard upbringing, I enjoyed it. It kept me busy, kept me out of trouble. A lot of friends and family also boxed, so it was kind of a family sport."
Unfortunately, when he was 17, Brad lost all his boxing collectibles in a structure fire.
"I lost everything," he said somewhat apathetically. "It was all miscellaneous things — championship trophies, medals, championship belts, boxing uniforms — that can't be replaced."
Sports remained a positive outlet for Brad amid the challenges of living in a rural tribal community.
"I'd go to school, then I'd play sports," he said. "After that, I'd come home and go to boxing practice. I'd do two or three hours of that, go home and do school work and do it all over again the next day."
By the time he was old enough for Golden Gloves, Brad had an accomplished Silver Gloves resume out of Region 4. He was a six-time Silver Gloves state champion. He finished as the national 80-pound runner-up in 1987 before winning a national championship for the first time in 1989 at 90 pounds in Prescott, Arizona. He also won the National Indian Jr. and Minnesota Junior Olympic championships.
"I knew I had something in those first few bouts that counted on my record when I was 10," Brad said. "My parents told me to stick around because I was doing really good in the sport. I mean, I was, right? I was 16-0 when I was 9 and went 22-0 the next year."
With each fight, Brad's resume improved, which meant it was harder for him to find opponents willing to fight him.
"It was because of my talent that I got to fight older guys," he added. "Once I started hitting 15, 16 years old, I started boxing guys 100 pounds heavier than me, guys who were 10 or 15 years older than me. I had a lot of fights where I had to fight a super heavyweight.
"There was a stretch when I couldn't get any fights with kids my age or my size. I couldn't find any fights in Minnesota like that unless I went to the state championship. I didn't care for that. I worked my butt off for years to be in that ring and show people what I could do."
He became a three-time state champion (1993, 1994, 1995) and won the American Boxing Federation championship in 1997. He's an eight-time National Indian Champion and has countless other regional, state and national competition finishes each year, totaling a record of 134-12 with over 50 knockouts before turning pro at 27.
Brad admitted that, even after the assertive pep talk his dad gave him before the final round against Howell in Walker, he didn't have much left in the tank. In his previous four pro fights, he knocked out three of his opponents. His closest thing to a blemish was a draw against Joe Lorenzi, a former member of the Bemidji Police Department.
Howell gave him a handful in the last round, but Brad was ultimately victorious for the fourth time in his professional career. He'd come a long way since his 3-mile runs along the shoulder of the dirt roads in Cass Lake and the temporary training gyms in local community centers in his youth.
While part of the Leech Lake Boxing Club in his youth, Brad was coached by longtime program director Henry Harper. The program's equipment was stored in vans. They'd set it up and tear it down in the community centers when they could find availability. Brad added that much of the boxing done in Cass Lake took place at the defunct Palace Bingo and Casino.
"Boxing was in there for 20-some years," he said. "It transferred to (Veterans Memorial Grounds) in Cass Lake. The last 15 years, it's just community centers, or whatever is open at the time. It's tough around there. We don't have a set spot, but now Leech Lake is building a recreation complex, and it should be done in a year or two. That'll open up a lot of doors for the youth."
Competitively, Brad remembers his losses more than his wins because they were motivating. He finished as a Silver Gloves national runner-up in 1987, then again in 1991.
One runner-up finish didn't sting as badly as the others. In 1992, Brad took second place at the State Junior Olympic Championship in Grand Forks, North Dakota. He was 15 years old when his silver finish earned him a spot at the National Junior Olympic Box Off camp in Colorado Springs at the Olympic Training Center.
At the camp, Brad followed a strict training regimen. He woke up at 6 a.m. and ran 3 miles with the other attendees. He'd then hit the heavy bag and do hours of calisthenics before getting lunch and a 30-minute break, then he'd do it all over again before the lights were out at 8 p.m.
"It was the toughest workout I ever had in my life, but it was amazing," Brad said. "I tried everything I could when I was there. ... I was just a small, little Indian kid with tiny legs, but I loved it. I'd push myself to exhaustion when I was young, but it got me where I needed to be."
Two years later, Brad found himself in one of the largest venues he'd ever competed in. Boxing at 165 pounds at the National Golden Gloves tournament in Milwaukee at the Bradley Center, the former home of the Milwaukee Bucks, empty seats were few and far between.
Brad went 4-1 in Milwaukee, collecting a silver medal to show for it. Each time he came home, he'd tell stories about his travels with his family and friends.
"It was a new world to them, too," he said. "Sports took a kid from a one-story house to cities with buildings that have glass windows 30 stories high. It was really awesome to be able to see it all firsthand. I met a lot of good people through boxing — good people, pro boxers, Mike Tyson."
Mike Tyson? Like, the Mike Tyson?
"Yeah, I met him," Brad responded, trying to play it cool and conceal his grin. "I met him, Evander Holyfield, Tommy Hearns. I have videos of all my old fights on VHS. I got other videos of professional fighters people wouldn't even know I got. It's crazy some of the stuff I got. I could probably sell some of those VHS tapes for thousands."
Brad's amateur career allowed him to see the country. Through state and federal funding, Native American boxers had most of their travel expenses covered. Brad's parents, though, had to pay their own way.
"There was only two people ever who I heard in the ring," Brad said of his parents. "They were poor, but they'd somehow get there, and I appreciated that more than anything. I heard them over everybody when I'd be in stadiums and auditoriums that were full, arenas that NBA teams would play in."
The next morning after his win against Howell, Brad looked in the mirror and saw purple and green bruises on his face. His life in sports always came with a side of injuries, but with age, the recovery got harder.
You name a bone, Brad's likely broken it.
"The most painful was a broken finger," he said. "I had it snap when I was young, playing basketball. ... I've had numerous injuries. I broke my right hand three times in boxing. Broke a rib, collarbone, knee, ankle."
As a kid, Brad started turning heads in Minnesota's boxing circles. When he was 16, coaches in Minneapolis inquired about the possibility of him turning pro at 18, not 27. However, the opportunity was spiked by those closest to him without him knowing.
"Minneapolis had some Indian coaches down there, and they told Henry and my dad that I should turn pro," Brad said. "They didn't tell me that until I was in my mid-20s. They didn't want me to turn pro. Every sport is politics in some fashion."
Even now, over three decades since he unknowingly missed the opportunity to become a professional boxer at 18, he still feels the heartbreak.
"I got into it with my dad about it," Brad continued. "He said he didn't remember that. One of the coaches out of Minneapolis told me they tried to turn me pro years later. I just said, 'Excuse me? I never heard about it.' It is what it is. I wish I could've, but that's how it happened for me."
While his match against Howell was his final fight, Brad didn't fully know it then. He played competitive slow-pitch softball with the Minnesota Chips at the time. His athletic ventures were permanently changed at a national tournament in South Dakota.
"Long story short, I blew out my knee," Brad said. "I couldn't do any sports for six months. I tore my ACL and had my meniscus removed out of my knee after that. It put a damper on every sport I played."
Ultimately, his physical limitations ended his in-ring career prematurely.
Around the time of his last fight, Brad met his wife, Lori. They've been together for 19 years. Brad has three kids — Bradley, Jennalee and Brody. Lori has two of her own — Rasean and DeVante. All five of them have entered adulthood as Brad entered the next phase of his life away from the games he used to play regularly.
Since 2008, Brad has worked various jobs to stay afloat, but he hasn't returned to boxing in any capacity. Part of that comes from the death of his dad.
In 2022, William passed away after a three-year battle with cancer. In the months following, Brad got a call from Dan Ninham, the creator of the North American Indigenous Athletics Hall of Fame.
"I was going through a dark time when I lost my dad," Brad said. "He was there for me for everything. I just couldn't accept that back then without him."
Despite Brad's urges to help community kids who followed in his footsteps, it was too challenging to get back into sports. He was content with his situation, keeping the memories of his career to himself.
Then, a few months ago, while grocery shopping at Leech Lake Market, Brad crossed paths with Dan near the checkout counters.
"He looked at me and said, 'I've been trying to get ahold of you for three years,'" Brad recalled.
"(Dan) said, 'I really think you're deserving of this accomplishment. Let's get you in there.' I appreciate him for putting that out there because if Dan didn't stick with it, I probably wouldn't be in the Hall of Fame. He tried to get me in twice, literally. I never really knew Dan, but people around our reservation and communities know him. He's been an advocate for every sport, so I really appreciated that he tried that second time and stuck with it for me."
It took some encouragement from his wife and sister to finally accept the honor.
"They (pushed me) because my dad would be proud of me for being in the Hall of Fame," Brad said. "If it wasn't for Dan or my family, I wouldn't have done it."
Brad will officially be part of the Hall of Fame on May 30, 2026, at the annual ceremony in Green Bay, Wisconsin. The induction process has come with a retrospective twist for Brad. He feels he's inching closer toward being mentally ready to rejoin boxing in a teaching capacity without his father.
"I'm very proud to be a Leech Laker because of my parents," Brad said. "They struggled through life, but they made it and they raised me properly. I know they struggled. They struggled to make a dime to make it out to see me box. But something I'll never forget is when I realized, when I became an adult, what my parents did for me as a kid is really something.
"Our community is based on stuff like that. It doesn't matter what sport or what you're doing. Our community cheers for each other. Help out where (it's) needed. Give a helping hand. Cheer for someone who deserves it. I've always been that guy. I'll probably always be that guy."