Good story. In 1969, we would travel to Mexicali to fight an amateur team from Baja, and then they would bring a team to fight us at the El Monte Legion a couple months later. I remember where we fought in Mexicali, and I also remember another kid on our team, my friend Frankie Santillian, he and I both had to shake cock roaches out of our shoes after leaving them in a make shift locker during our fights. As we entered the stadium, or arena, they had guys frisking the patrons for knives and weapons, yet they would serve beer to the fans in bottles, which they would throw whenever an American won. I won, as did all of our guys, and most of us won by knockout. Our victories were answered by a shower of bottles from ringside. I knocked out a bantamweight named Baltamar Carillo with a "gancho", a left hook to the liver. My buddy Frankie KOed my opponents brother, featherweight Cipriano Carrillo, with the same punch. I can't say the same for all the Mexican fighters, but ALL of those guys on the Baja team were known to be weak in the belly. That's what we were told on our trip down, and it porved true again in El Monte a few months later. In El Monte, I KOed my Baja opponents brother Cipriano, just has my friend Frankie had done below the border.dagosd2000 wrote:TACITOS
"So you guys are hungry?"
"Just some tacos. Nothing too heavy."
We took the boys to Mexicali for an amateur tournament. Me and Neto ,who trained the kids. I was to work in the corner with Neto. We drove in the van. Me and Neto and the three boys. We arrived in Mexicali in the late afternoon. In the morning,we'd drive to the Auditorium to weigh the boys in. It was a regional tournament. We felt Oscar would come through winning his division. He was a light weight. But the boys were hungry now.They wanted tacos.
I blame myself. I always liked to eat off the carts. The others did too. Neto was OK with it. We really didn't think nothing of it. I wasn't that familiar with Mexicali. One taco stand was like another. I stopped the van by a taco stand near the river that funneled off from the All American Canal. There was a pretty good crowd in front of the stand so I figured the food was good. We piled out and as soon as we stood in front,we were being handed tacos "con todo." I smelled something. I cuoldn't tell what,but it smelled like some kind of chemicals. The odor was coming from the river that was in back of the taco stand. We began eating,but that smell bothered me.It made me a little dizzy. I wished I had stopped somewhere else,but the boys were in a feeding frenzy. I wasn't worried about any of them making weight,but I wished that I hadn't stopped there. The smell from the river made me lose my appetite.
We booked ourselves into a nice hotel a few blocks from the Auditorium. I figured we could walk to the "weigh in" in the morning. I'll never forget what happened that evening. Me and Neto are playing "Hearts" when Oscar comes running in from the front room. His face is contorted. He's clutching down below and groaning. Sweat is pouring down his face.
"Que pasa Chico?,I asked. I dropped my cards.
Oscar was in such pain he couldn't answer. The other boys came running into the room behind him. I went down to the front desk. The desk clerk called a doctor. Oscar was curled up on the bed groaning and crying. He was scared. We all were.
The doctor came up to the room. We stood behiund him as he felt Oscar's pulse.
"Que comio?"asked the doctor.
"Tacitos," I answered.
"Donde?",countered the doctor.
"Por el rio."
The doctor made a sigh.He then tapped Oscar's sides.He then took out a big needle from his bag and broke an ampule of something. He drew what was in the ampule into the needle. The doctor said it was for the pain. He also made Oscar drink something. He said Oscar would throw up after this.
Well Oscar didn't fight the next day. In fact Oscar never fought again. He felt better in the morning,but was too weak to fight. None of the other two boys made it into the second round. We started back to Tijuana after they were eliminated. Oscar was still woozy on the trip back. When he arrived home he bagan to run a fever. I went back to San Diego.
The next time I saw Oscar was about a year later. His face was pock marked and he'd lost weight.
"Como sientas?"I asked him.
He said he felt all right. He told me he had given up boxing. Then he said whatever he had that day never fully left his body. I asked him if he'd seen the doctor again. He told me that the doctor said he was poisoned. Poisoned by some chemicals that were in that river by that taco stand in Mexicali. The chemicals were in his liver he said.
I thought about how many people eat at that stand. We all did that afternoon. Only Oscar got sick. But maybe the sickness was in all of us and we'd feel it later.
I asked Oscar what he wanted to do.
"I'm hungry for tacos."
"Donde?",amigo.
"Any place that's not near a river," he answered.
-Rick
As you mentioned, Roger, it must have something to do with the water. Even the natives suffered, at least when they faced the L.A. boys.
