Seemingly, there wasn’t anything Danny DiLiberto couldn’t do at a world class level, especially if the task began with the letter “B.”

Born in Buffalo (naturally), DiLiberto, who passed away just a week shy of his 90th birthday on Feb. 11, was the personification of grit and determination. Undersized, the fearless west side Italian never shied away from a street fight when challenged. And he rarely lost out when it came to fisticuffs. He was also a regular in the ring at the local Boys Club, and his older brother Joe was a Golden Gloves fighter.

Still, Danny was pushed to pursue less brutal sports by his parents. Baseball seemed to be an option, and Danny was good enough to catch the eye of scouts from several Major League Baseball clubs. In fact, he had tryouts with the Kansas City A’s and the San Francisco Giants. Not surprisingly, his size (or lack thereof) was one hurdle he couldn’t overcome.

And he just couldn’t get past his desire to box.

“I liked boxing, and a lot of people said I had a good eye for the chin, fast hands and that I hit pretty good,” he once said.

Headstrong and confident, Danny simply packed up and traveled to Miami and marched right into famed trainer Angelo Dundee’s Fifth Street Gym. Part salesman, Danny convinced Dundee to give him a tryout. But when Dundee agreed to put him into pro fights, Danny had to scramble.

“I didn’t want my parents to know I was fighting,” he told me once with a laugh. “So, I came up with the name Dan Toriani. Never even heard of the name before. It just came to me, and it sounded like a good Italian name.”

He was in his early 20s at the time, and over the next few years he fought 14 professional fights, winning 12 by knockout and drawing twice. But in the process, he broke his hands three or four times. And as much as “glass hands” forced him out of the ring, it was the boredom of waiting for the hand to heal between fights that drove Danny to quit. His last fight was in October 1959.

I was always a fight fan, which is probably what drew me to Danny when I first met him shortly after I started working at Billiards Digest. He was easy to like. He was funny, clever and approachable.

The second time I saw him was September 1981. I was in Vegas for the BCA National 8-Ball Championships at the old Hacienda Hotel and Casino. (Danny would go on to win the BCA National 8-Ball Championship that week, defeating Nick Varner in the title match.) At the same time, Vegas was ramping up for the first Sugar Ray Leonard-Thomas Hearns fight at Caesars Palace. I was chatting with Danny, and we were talking about the fight. Out of the blue, Danny says, “You want to go over to Caesars and watch them train?” Didn’t take me long to say, “Sure!” So, we rolled into Caesars and Danny gets on the house phone. Over the PA, I could hear the hotel operator call out, “Mr. Angelo Dundee, please pick up a house phone.” A few seconds later I hear Danny say, “Angelo, it’s Danny DiLiberto. How are you? I’m here with a friend of mine and would love to see you and maybe see some training.”

After a little more chatter, Danny hangs up and says, “Come on, we’re going to meet Angelo.” Which we did. He welcomed Danny like a long-lost son. We chatted for a while and Angelo told me about Danny’s career and all the promise he had. Then he told us Leonard was through training for the day, but that Hearns was preparing to spar. Angleo got us into the training room set up for Hearns and we spent the next hour watching Hearns jump rope, spar and hit the bag. It was magical. He always had a high rating on my “favorite players” list after that.

And so, when Danny was elected to the Billiard Congress of America Hall of Fame in 2011, I wanted to do something special for him. Can’t recall how I did it, but I managed to get Angelo’s phone number in Florida. I called one day and sure enough Angelo, 89 at the time, answered the phone. Honestly, having trained so many boxers over the years, I wasn’t sure he would remember Danny.

“Danny’s getting into the billiards hall of fame?” Angelo said with a sense of pride. “That’s great.”

I asked Angelo if he would be kind enough to videotape a message of congratulations that we could play at the Hall of Fame banquet. He couldn’t have been more accommodating. I sent a videographer to his home.

At the banquet, we played the video, which completely caught Danny by surprise. I could tell it meant the world to him to hear from Angelo at that moment. And I couldn’t help but notice the shock and envy and admiration on the faces of all the great pool players in the room as the great Dundee heaped praise on our Danny.

Of course, the “B” for which we will mostly remember Danny is billiards — for his great career (highlighted by his 1972 Johnston City World All-Around Championship) and his contributions to the game through his years of stellar match commentary.

But for me, my memories of Danny will mostly have a boxing backdrop. He was a fighter in every sense of the word — tenacious, tactical and talented. It was his fighting spirit and his big heart that made him special.