?The war is won or lost before the battle even begins.? ?Sun Tzu
Clich? or not, such a line isn?t strictly confined to the endeavor of combat. Whenever a writer is assigned to cover an entire fight card ringside, quite a bit of preparation goes into ensuring that the final product is not only prompt but also acceptable to the reader?s discriminating eye.
In addition to the basic research in obtaining all the statistics and biographies of the principals involved, scouring for the burgeoning story beneath the layers of objective facts is where the real journalism occurs. For example, leading up to this past Friday?s main event in Ontario between Chris Arreola and Manuel Quezada, it was worth noting that Joe Goossen, the latter?s former trainer, felt that Quezada had a durable dome and a high tolerance for punishment. In Goossen?s opinion, the bout would go the distance.
This weekend was no different in that sense, except that the fans in southern California were treated to the rare anomaly of having two major promoters holding two televised shows at the same time in the same area. While Goossen-Tutor staged the Arreola-Quezada card for ESPN2?s ?Friday Night Fights,? Golden Boy held the latest chapter of TeleFutura?s ?Solo Boxeo Tecate,? featuring Eloy Perez vs. Derrick Campos, from Pico Rivera. Two cards meant double the workload and so this writer found the opportunity to take the fans on an all-access tour of a weekend in the shoes of a boxing correspondent.
WORTH THE WEIGHT?
When the Thursday sun rears its head over the Bay Area horizon, a sliver of light slithers around my blinds and knifes its way through my pupils. I roll out of bed and head for the shower. Being based out of the northern part of the state, I then pack some clothes, my audio recorder, and my laptop into my 2009 Toyota Corolla (Surprisingly, it was one of the few that exited the plant without defective brakes?so far, anyway). After hopping in the driver?s seat and battling some heavy eyelids, my vehicle exerts enough exhaust into the atmosphere to kill a flock of seagulls on my way down the I-5 freeway. Any veteran of this drive is aware of the smorgasbord of smells from split pea soup to cow droppings, seemingly marking each juncture on the way to the L.A. area.
After a brief pit stop in Baldwin Park to catch up with some good friends, Agustin and Adriana Garcia, I continue on my journey south to Rosemead. By the time my metal steed mercifully comes to a halt in the parking lot of the Holiday Inn Express, my watch reads 3:22, just in time for the Golden Boy card weigh-in.
As I stand with arms folded in the lobby, a familiar face in a white polo shirt with a black Golden Boy logo emblazoned on the left chest extends his hand.
?How are you doing?? asks Eric Gomez, Oscar De La Hoya?s matchmaker. ?Thanks for coming.?
Aside from the two Tecate girls and a black Golden Boy backdrop adorning the wall, the weigh-in lacks enough frills to compare with a frugal Southwest flight. Cramped in a ?conference room? slightly larger than the size of a studio apartment, the fighters? teams and the media sit shoulder-to-shoulder as the fighters line up to check-in to verify their licenses and pick up their pre-fight medical questionnaires.
Perez is first in line and takes his sheet. Flipping the page and scribbling on it vigorously, he completes everything in well under a minute. ?This is like second nature to me now,? smiles Eloy.
After a slight delay, Gomez addresses the crowd in both English and Spanish, laying out the instructions for the fighters not to leave after they weigh in because they are to be examined by the ring doctor, who was running late. One by one, the fighters take their turn on the scale, the ultimate truth-teller, as far as their dedication in camp. Sitting next to Eloy?s assistant trainer, Sam Garcia, camcorder in hand, the anticipation turns into slight despair. While Perez tips the electronic scale at 129.2, Campos comes in at 133.2, almost three-and-a-half pounds over the contracted weight.
Immediately, head trainer Max Garcia, Gomez, and Campos convene. Moments later, the chief second of Campos and a member of the state commission join them.
?That?s way too much weight,? opined Garcia.
?Well, the penalty is 20-percent of his purse,? reveals Gomez, who then discusses the proportion of weight that Campos could legally drop before it reaches a medically hazardous level.
?And don?t forget another 10-percent to the commission,? interjects the CSAC official.
?Actually no. Not in this contract,? the Golden Boy executive shoots back. ?But, you know what? We can work this out.?
The two camps venture outside to the hallway where they come to a deal. Rather than lose any extra pounds, Campos will indeed forfeit 20-percent of his purse to Perez.
After the last fighters weigh in, respected manager Frank Espinoza fields questions in the same hallway. His fighter, hometown hero Carlos Molina, is slated to face Filipino Glenn Gonzales, who, at the time, stands at 8-1-1 (4) but has not fought in almost a year.
Molina, donning a green Mexican soccer jersey and shades obscuring his eyes, uncovers them when I introduce myself and ask him a question. This prompts Espinoza to approach me and say, ?Hey, Ryan! I read your article with Al Bernstein about Abner [Mares]!?
After exchanging pleasantries with Frank, Kathy Garcia, who doubles as both Max?s husband as well as Eloy Perez?s manager, invites me to eat dinner with the team at the BJ?s down the street.
BUNNIES AND MONKEYS TOGETHER AT LAST?
As Eloy devours a New York steak for the first time in three weeks, Sam Garcia and co-trainer Dean Familton revisit Eloy?s fight at the Playboy Mansion in L.A. for the NABO junior lightweight title and, sure enough, the topic strays from the actual boxing itself.
?The tickets were like a thousand bucks each,? says Eloy between bites almost incredulously.
?What did that cover?? I wonder aloud.
?Open bar, food, cigars, and getting to see all the Bunnies walk around if you?re into that sort of thing,? answers the married Familton as he wryly cracks a smile.
Eloy has something else in mind. ?Oh, tell him about the monkeys!?
I?m listening.
?Dude,? says Sam. ?They had these monkeys just hanging around everywhere and you would just grab a grape from the table and feed them up top.? He then puts his right thumb to his index finger to demonstrate the motion.
Monkeys, cigars, and Playmates. Apparently the next show at 10236 Charing Cross Road is scheduled to take place on September 11. The question now becomes whether MaxBoxing needs a ringside representative [Editor?s note: We?d be crazy not to.].
ROACH?S NEW RIGHT-HAND MAN?…
It?s too bad they haven?t developed a way for the human body as a whole to perform meiosis, because then I would have been able to simultaneously cover both cards. Since the answer is no, I have my credential for Arreola-Quezada approved and make plans for a night in Ontario.
But first, I?ll travel westward to Hollywood to see what?s cooking at the Wild Card Gym. After enjoying the hospitality of my college buddy from Berkeley, Adam Buffum, and his girlfriend Liz, I jump back in the Corolla and zoom up the 101-North from Pasadena to Tinseltown by midday.
Of course, there?s no sign of Manny Pacquiao, as the Congressman will most likely complete the bulk of his training in the Philippines in preparation for his November 11 date against the dreaded TBA (Margarito doesn?t have his license, so I wouldn?t etch his name in stone quite yet.). Nonetheless, despite Friday being a designated sparring day, not too many of the big names associated with the sweatshop in recent times are present.
Still, many of the familiar faces in the world-famous gym are in attendance, namely Pepper Roach, who after greeting me with a fist bump, is asked by some Filipino tourists to snap a picture of them outside the entrance. Pepper, ever the jokester, has them bursting in laughter when he utters some colorful language in their native tongue of Tagalog.
Inside the gym, Pepper?s brother Freddie, whose Q-rating has exponentially increased since the dawn of HBO?s ?24/7? series, has a busy day, no matter who laces them up to get some work. After observing a session between a former Nigerian amateur star and a tall Japanese southpaw, he stands off the apron to speak with his assistant trainers. Then, he momentarily speaks with Miguel Salazar behind the counter before setting aside some time to talk with his biographer, Peter Nelson, to put the final touches before the October 1 release date of his book. Roach, who has not let Parkinson?s disease slow him down, is truly the king of workplace efficiency.
Meanwhile, Steven Feder, who co-manages fighters with Freddie for Standing Eight Management, is pleased to bring with him the newly-crowned NABO cruiserweight champion, Lateef ?Power? Kayode, who is instantly teased by the regulars upon entry for wearing a beanie and a sleeveless hoodie inside the gym in the middle of an 80-degree day. Lateef and I discuss his successful debut on ?ShoBox? before he divulges to me that he and his girlfriend Monique are expecting their first child in three weeks and that the baby shower is Saturday. Congratulations to the soon-to-be dad.
As I exit the gym, ?Terrible? Terry Norris is on his way in. Before he walked up the stairs, he is gracious enough to chat for a bit and I always wanted to ask him something. After Pernell Whitaker?s dominant performance in his 1994 rematch with Buddy McGirt, there were talks of Norris meeting Whitaker, then the pound-for-pound king, at a catchweight of 150.
?We tried and tried to make that fight,? laments the former unified four-time light middleweight champ. ?I wanted that fight bad because I knew I could win. But no matter how much we cornered [Main Events] into making the fight happen, it never went down. They didn?t want it.?
When I ask the erstwhile conqueror of Sugar Ray Leonard what he was doing in Hollywood, he replies that he was talking to Freddie about becoming the next assistant trainer. While Michael Moorer and Jesse Reid departed almost as soon as they arrived, maybe Norris will be a good fit.
FIGHT NIGHT?
With that information in hand, I get back in the ?Rolla, get on the 10-East, and weave my way through the rush hour traffic to Ontario. On the way there, I receive some bad news. San Francisco?s Ben Bautista, who trains and manages Richard Hargraves, confirms to me via phone what Brian Schwartz, founder of the Undisputed Gym in San Carlos, told me the day before. Basically, Richard?s opponent for a Saturday bout in nearby San Mateo is a no-show. Such occurrences have been commonplace for the two-time bronze medalist in national competition, who currently stands at 2-0 (2).
?Richard can really fight and he just needs a promoter right now,? shares Bautista.
More ill-timed news follows when I check my voicemail to discover that Sergio and Flavio Gonzales, two old friends from my teaching days in Watts, will be unable to make the trip east due to a time conflict. However, I won?t be flying solo tonight, since three other members from the MaxBoxing team will be in the building.
When I arrive at the Citizens Business Bank Arena, the family whose name appears on the promotional banner is ubiquitous. Dan and Joe aren?t the only two Goossens in the building. On the suggestion of rover Craig Goossen, I venture over to the KO Taco Truck outside the front, where Chris Goossen, a self-proclaimed ?White-sican,? is the head chef in the mobile kitchen. I order a blackened shrimp taco with a Squirt (a little Patr?n and I would?ve had a Paloma) and enjoy the cuisine. Next time, I?m getting the Hawaiian Tuna Poke Taco.
The festivities inside the gym are commenced by the voice of the always ?classy? Jimmy Lennon Jr., who lives up to his moniker in the fashion sense as well in a cream coat with black bowtie and slacks.
One?s position in press row is always a Pandora?s Box with regard to the sightlines and proximity to the fighters. Today I?ll be sitting between Michele Chong of BoxingInLasVegas.com and Saul Jauregui of the ?There Will Be Blood? fight show. Michele is one of the most cordial writers you?ll ever meet, as evidenced by the countless writers and fighters who make their way to her seat to catch up. Well-respected veteran David Avila of the Riverside Press-Enterprise and I discuss the future of print and he gives me some excellent advice about the business.
In the second round of the opening bout, bantamweight Michael Ruiz hurls a left cross in front of the neutral corner that sends Matthew Salazar down for the count. Another furious flurry from the southpaw has Salazar stumbling into the ropes. As a result, the referee gave him what appeared to be a standing eight-count, even though the Albuquerque native?s knee had failed to touch the canvas. Still on wobbly ground, he is ruled unable to continue.
Leaning over the top rope immediately afterward is the garrulous Repo Rick, Ruiz?s manager extraordinaire. ?We don?t fight bums over here. I?m done for the night. I?ve got to pay child support!? bellows Rick as holds his own impromptu ringside press conference.
Due to the nature of the ?Friday Night Fights? format, the televised bouts will be next. While Joe Tessitore looks on as Teddy Atlas throws some left hooks in front of the camera that punish the unsuspecting air, referee Pat Russell, whom many thought would assume the mantle left by Dean Lohuis as head of the California State Athletic Commission, lets me in on a secret. Russell was once a big San Francisco Giants fan and after going through an encyclopedic history of the ?60s and ?70s teams, throws some trivia my way.
?Do you remember the Giants pitcher who was blown off the mound at Candlestick?
?Stu Miller,? I reply without hesitation.
?That?s right. Now that?s a real Giants fan,? he says as he left press row to take his position as the third man in the ring for the co-featured bout, Josesito Lopez vs. Marvin Cordova Jr.
The scrap has the feel of an entertaining one from the start. The way the lights reflect off Lopez? purple and silver-trimmed robe almost blind me. Cordova?s black sequined ensemble trimmed with pink is emblematic of his nickname, ?Much II Much.?
The first three seconds of the fight are a precursor of what is to come, as they trade with reckless abandon. Lopez, the WBC number eight-ranked junior welterweight, assaults his foe to the body, with the ?104? tattoo on Cordova?s midsection acting as a target.
As Cordova covers his face, his eyes are constantly tucked into his gloves and he stands stationary like a scarecrow amongst the corn. Lopez picks his shots and unleashes his whole arsenal, featuring hooks to the body and face. Cordova, now noticeably bleeding through his lip, is only playing possum, as he has some success throwing counter left uppercuts. On the inside as they clinch, Cordova rests his bloody lip on Lopez? left shoulder, smearing platelets everywhere.
After seven rounds of hotly-contested combat, the P.A. blares Justin Bieber. I would have preferred Rage Against the Machine or even an obligatory Bill Conti ?Rocky? theme but I guess we can agree to disagree.
In the last round, Lopez looks to assert dominance, walking Cordova into the ropes. With 1:29 left and a mouse over his left eye, Cordova throws a left hook to the cuff and Lopez goes down. However, it is ruled a low blow, the validity of which is confirmed when replays conclusively show it as such.
Penalized a point, Cordova has no choice but to open himself up and load up on his shots, which he does until the final bell. Unfortunately for him, Lopez remains vertical and takes the unanimous decision. While Cordova may have lost, anyone watching this nationally-televised scrap could see that he has a lucrative future as a fan-friendly gatekeeper.
We assumed that the telecast would resume in the studio before the main event, so Michele, Saul, and I exchange notes, pass around score sheet copies, and clarify statistics in the meantime. Minutes later, Marylyn Aceves, one of the hardest-working publicists in the business, travels from writer to writer bearing gifts in the form of direct quotes from the fighters.
All of a sudden, the sound of Mexican music infiltrates the CBBA, alerting us all to the entrance of Manuel Quezada and the beginning of the main event. While ?El Toro? and Arreola share Mexican heritage and reputations for being tough, durable fighters, that?s where the commonality stops.
While Quezada comes out to traditional Mexican music, Arreola?s ring walk is accompanied by the sweet sounds of Eminem. Quezada is a Central Valley kid from Wasco, a small town near Bakersfield; Arreola has seemingly brought half of Riverside, judging by the crowd?s reaction to Lennon?s introduction. When the requisite staredown during fight instructions ensues, Arreola?s size (256 to 228 pounds.), height (6?4? to 6?2?), and reach advantage (78? to 76?) are evident. But as the reader knows, fights aren?t won on paper because, otherwise, there would be no use competing at all. Quezada has said this was his ?Super Bowl? and we will soon find out if he?s more Montana than Marino on the big stage.
Unfortunately for Manuel, the fight takes on a predictable pattern. While Quezada attacks his opponent?s midsection as he should, he sticks around long enough for Arreola to find him. As a consequence, Quezada gets tagged with a left hook and overhand right cross, Arreola?s bread-and-butter. After losing the first five-and-a-half rounds, it?s becoming more and more evident that Quezada isn?t hurting Arreola. In fact, the bigger heavyweight incessantly shakes his head to negatively appraise his foe?s power. Unfortunately, putting on a boxing clinic might be out the window for Quezada since he would have to win every round just to get a draw on my card.
After an uneventful seventh and eighth, Quezada takes the initiative in round nine, coming forward and throwing combinations to the head. However, Arreola responds by showing what has gotten him on HBO by putting his rival down with a series of left hooks and overhand rights. Quezada gets to his knees and tries to brave the next assault but Arreola floors him once more with multiple left hooks like a lumberjack to the girth-blessed trunk of the Arbol de Tule.
Now dazed, a valiant Quezada rises to his feet to answer the referee?s call. Arreola, smelling blood, now cocks his shotguns and attempts to make good on his reputation as an excellent finisher (25 of his 28 wins have come by knockout). Quezada, to his credit, stands undeterred from throwing punches to brave the barrage. While the timbre of the bell saves a weary Quezada and sends him to his corner, he will have no part of the ringside physician?s questions; ?El Toro? is immune from quitting, especially with the Bakersfield faithful that have arrived to support him.
Round ten actually begins with a Quezada flurry, a testament to his conditioning. However, Arreola?s bombs drown out the sounds of Quezada?s rapid fire. Quezada comes out of an exchange with a mouse over his right eye, blinking for longer periods of time. Like a runaway bull, Quezada lowers his horns and throws the one-two, mixing it up with the occasional left hook to the body. All of them land and Arreola must now rethink his approach. As Quezada grows in confidence, he counters his opponent?s previous dismissals of his punching prowess by shaking his head in affirmation. It only took ten rounds but now we have a fight.
Quezada?s posse is engulfed by the sudden surge of momentum and verbally wills him to fight. MaxBoxing?s German Villase?or picks out outspoken lightweight contender Brandon ?Bam Bam? Rios out of the crowd. Rios, who has been speaking to Steve Kim up until this point, rushes over to ringside and offers some encouragement to his fellow Oxnard Boxing Academy alumnus, yelling ??Siga lo guey!? (Keep going, dude!)
As a writer, my focus for the next round turned to Arreola to observe how he will try to regain whatever control he held, if at all. My answer arrives when the Inland Empire local locks his antagonist?s arms on the inside. However, Quezada is able to wiggle his way out and keep his distance when necessary. Soon after, the two trade and Quezada throws a four-punch combination to the head that scores. These past two rounds saw Quezada outfight and outhustle Arreola. Ever the gentlemen, the two display a mutual respect as they touch gloves at the end of the frame.
By the final round, the buzz at the CBBA picks up. While Quezada is way behind on points, he?s conjured up just enough hope for some last-minute magic. However, Arreola crushes those dreams in quick fashion, landing a left hook that sends Quezada?s sweat flying over ESPN commentator Joe Tessitore. Like a toreador, Arreola keeps turning the now-fatigued Quezada, looking to thrust one last lance into his foe?s chances. Finally, a nightmarish combination punctuated by a left uppercut catches all of Quezada?s right jaw and he crumples down to his knees. Seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, Manuel turns upright for the final time and survives the sound of the final bell. Arreola?s willingness to go for the gusto and Quezada?s unwavering heart are hallmarks of Mexican boxing. The crowd, dormant at times, roars in approval and acknowledgement.
As Lennon declares the wide unanimous decision in favor of Arreola, the two fighters embrace in the center of the ring and call it a night. So too do Tessitore and Atlas, who sign off, take pictures with a few fans, and head through the tunnel to their next cross-country assignment.
However, the night isn?t through just yet, as 2008 U.S. Olympian Shawn Estrada makes quick work of Alex Armenta, who was coming off a layoff of nine years (!) by first-round knockout. Afterward, I meet up with Joe Goossen to converse but we?re temporarily intercepted by AOL Fanhouse?s Elie Seckbach, the ostensibly omnipresent man behind the camera.
After the encounter with Elie, the two of us head into the locker room, where trainer Henry Ramirez unwraps Arreola?s hands. Goossen notes that Arreola?s left hand is in bad shape and that suggests that they see a hand specialist. When I congratulate Chris on the win, his right hand has seen better days as well, and prefers to give me a fist bump than shake my hand. An amazing statistic when one considers that the former world title challenger threw 988 punches tonight. Say what you want about Arreola?s physique but the man will swing for the fences and won?t stop until he makes contact, if need be.
On the other side of the room sits Goossen?s new charge, Matthew Villanueva, 1-0 (1), a baby-faced 22-year-old super flyweight clad in all black. Due to the television breaks and odd schedule, he?s been waiting to fight all night. Tired of the complacency, he leaps out of his black chair and shadowboxes vigorously. Joe tries to keep him loose and jokes, ?The favors Goossen-Tutor does for me. You get to headline the show and fight last.?
Joe then pulls out some mint-flavored chewing tobacco and starts dipping. After I remark that I would have taken him for a Copenhagen man, we get into a light-hearted discussion about the vice. Goossen puts me on the spot and asks, ?Baseball players have hit dips since the beginning of time. Ryan, I want you to tell me. How many players have died from throat cancer as a direct result of chewing tobacco??
A deafening silence comes from my end.
?You?re the reporter!? Joe comments authoritatively.
Arreola, sitting up against the wall and wearing a Dodger hat, snickers. However, he?s not safe from Goossen?s wrath either.
?Anyone?? He peers at Arreola, who could only shrug his shoulders.
After assuring Joe I would do my research, I walk out of the room and back to press row. Upon returning to my seat, the swing bout between junior welterweights Chad Bennett and Gary Bergeron is lights out?literally. Someone forgot to pay the electric bill and, for a few moments, the CBBA is in need of some candles and flashlights. Fortunately, the lights come back on and Bennett pulls out the unanimous decision.
Finally, at long last, Villanueva gets in the ring minutes later opposite debutant Alejo Guzman. Over the course of two rounds, Villanueva?s class shines through as he slips punches and opens up his opponent with a left hook that knocks him down. Alejo shows his mettle and rises to his feet, clearly not on steady ground. After they trade flurries, one more punishing Villanueva left hook sends him sprawling to the canvas, ending the fight by stoppage.
After the last hand is raised and the maintenance crew strips everything bare, I surf the web and learn that both Perez and Molina have won their respective bouts via knockout. At that, I begin to pack my belongings and call it a night. Before I make way for the parking lot, Oscar Meza approaches press row, accompanied by Jesus Soto-Karass and his brother Jose Luis. The three are veterans of the Maywood Boxing Club ring wars championed by Gabriel Montoya. The trio now plies their trade at the Ten Goose Gym in Van Nuys with Ricky Funez and Joe Goossen. Jesus has a fight lined up with Filipino Mark Jason Melligen on an upcoming ?Top Rank Live? show on Fox Sports Net and, in a role reversal, he has a question for me.
