Classic American West Coast Boxing
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
LAS VEGAS - SEPTEMBER 13: Juan Manuel Marquez (R) hits Joel Casamayor in the sixth round of their bout at the MGM Grand Garden Arena September 13, 2008 in Las Vegas, Nevada. Marquez won by knockout in the 11th round. (Photo by Ethan Miller/Getty Images)
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
LAS VEGAS - SEPTEMBER 13: Joel Casamayor (L) trades blows with Juan Manuel Marquez during their bout at the MGM Grand Garden Arena September 13, 2008 in Las Vegas, Nevada. Casamayor defeated Marquez with an 11th round knockout. (Photo by Jed Jacobsohn/Getty Images)
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Juan M. Marquez's win over Joel Casamayor should be the first step toward an eventual rematch with Manny Pacquiao.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Marquez works way back into picture
By Kevin Iole, Yahoo! Sports
LAS VEGAS – Joel Casamayor waged battle with many of the fiercest punchers in the 130- and 135-pound divisions of the past 12 years.
And never, not when he fought the late Diego Corrales, not when he fought one-time star Acelino Freitas, and not when he battled the powerful Jose Luis Castillo, was he manhandled the way he was Saturday at the MGM Grand Garden Arena by Juan Manuel Marquez.
Casamayor was too proud to admit he was hurt – “He caught me when I was in the air, that’s all it was,” he snorted – but the quiet and unassuming Marquez made a very loud point Saturday.
The road to supremacy is going to run through him.
He claimed the Ring Magazine lightweight belt with an 11th-round TKO of Casamayor, becoming the first man to stop the 1992 Olympic gold medalist.
After losing a controversial decision to Manny Pacquiao in March, Marquez seethed quietly as Pacquiao first won a lightweight belt by stopping David Diaz in June and then cashed in with an eight-figure payday for a Dec. 6 fight against Oscar De La Hoya.
Marquez, who has been one of the game’s most unappreciated stars for the past 10 years, was the consummate professional.
“We worked for three months on stopping that hook of his,” Marquez trainer Nacho Beristain said. “Juan is so professional and so smart, that once you teach him something, he doesn’t forget it. He knows exactly how to go out there and implement it.”
And his performance Saturday was a perfect example. He was cautious early, gauging Casamayor’s power and timing his hand speed.
Casamayor had success early by ripping Marquez with the right hook, a punch that Beristain said was the only one in Casamayor’s arsenal which concerned him.
But by the fifth round, Casamayor’s hook was essentially neutralized and Marquez began to pour on the offense.
Marquez isn’t known as a puncher, but it was obvious that he was having an impact upon Casamayor. This is a guy who was stalking Corrales, who only was one of the hardest punchers in the last 30 years at lightweight, and forcing Corrales backward for much of their three fights.
But on this night, Marquez was the man doing the dictating. Casamayor was retreating much of the night, circling back and away from Marquez’s quick hands and precise blows.
“Joel needed to keep throwing that 1-2, but he gave up on his combinations after a while,” Casamayor trainer Roger Bloodworth said. “He needed to come in with that hook behind the jab and after a while, he wasn’t doing that as much as I would have liked to have seen.”
Casamayor asked for a rematch, but it’s more likely that Golden Boy Promotions will move Marquez into a fight with the volume-punching Juan Diaz, who was impressive in a victory over Michael Katsidis a week earlier in Houston.
Golden Boy president Oscar De La Hoya suggested that WBA-WBO-IBF champion Nate Campbell and Casamayor were also possibilities.
And a third party threw his name into the equation. “Since De La Hoya is fighting Pacquiao, why not let me fight Marquez?” joked Vernon Forrest, who reclaimed the WBC super welterweight belt with a dominant victory over Sergio Mora in a heated rematch earlier in the night.
All right, it’s a little ridiculous for a guy of Forrest’s height and weight to be fighting a lightweight, though it’s too bad De La Hoya doesn’t feel the same way.
Marquez, though, really isn’t picky when it comes to choosing opponents.
“There’s no way (Top Rank chairman) Bob Arum and Pacquiao are going to fight him again,” Golden Boy CEO Richard Schaefer said. “I don’t think Pacquiao wants anything to do with Juan Manuel Marquez any more. Juan Manuel Marquez will fight anyone. He’s never turned down anyone. Have you ever heard him turn down any opponent?”
This is something of a golden age for lightweights. Yeah, this crop of 135-pounders can’t compare to the kind that were produced in boxing’s heyday, but it’s become one of modern boxing’s best and most competitive divisions.
A bizarre circumstance occurred earlier in Biloxi, Miss., where unbeaten Juan Guzman first missed weight by nearly four pounds Friday for his fight against Campbell, then chose on Saturday not to fight at all, claiming he didn’t feel well.
That absurdity made it easier to appreciate Marquez’s greatness and professionalism. Fighters like him don’t come around all that often. He’s the kind of guy who fights whoever is put in front of him, who leaves everything he has in the ring and who is the epitome of a professional.
He’s spent much of his career in the shadow of higher profile fighters, but that should begin to change.
Whether you thought he won the rematch with Pacquiao or not, it’s clear it was a brilliant and exceedingly close fight.
On Saturday, he managed to drop the iron-chinned Casamayor twice and become the first man to stop him.
Beristain said it annoys him that Marquez has never been widely enough appreciated.
“He is such a humble and quiet guy and he never tells you how good he is,” Beristain said. “All he does is get up in that ring and fight and win. He’s what every trainer would want his fighter to be.”
Pacquiao may be a little faster and a little stronger, and maybe even a little better.
Maybe.
They’ve put on two of the 10 best fights of the decade and it would be cheating the public not to have them fight again.
Once the circus is over in December, the first move that Arum and Schaefer should make is to get Marquez and Pacquiao back into the ring with each other.
That, and not a bout like De La Hoya-Pacquiao, is what this sport craves.
By Kevin Iole, Yahoo! Sports
LAS VEGAS – Joel Casamayor waged battle with many of the fiercest punchers in the 130- and 135-pound divisions of the past 12 years.
And never, not when he fought the late Diego Corrales, not when he fought one-time star Acelino Freitas, and not when he battled the powerful Jose Luis Castillo, was he manhandled the way he was Saturday at the MGM Grand Garden Arena by Juan Manuel Marquez.
Casamayor was too proud to admit he was hurt – “He caught me when I was in the air, that’s all it was,” he snorted – but the quiet and unassuming Marquez made a very loud point Saturday.
The road to supremacy is going to run through him.
He claimed the Ring Magazine lightweight belt with an 11th-round TKO of Casamayor, becoming the first man to stop the 1992 Olympic gold medalist.
After losing a controversial decision to Manny Pacquiao in March, Marquez seethed quietly as Pacquiao first won a lightweight belt by stopping David Diaz in June and then cashed in with an eight-figure payday for a Dec. 6 fight against Oscar De La Hoya.
Marquez, who has been one of the game’s most unappreciated stars for the past 10 years, was the consummate professional.
“We worked for three months on stopping that hook of his,” Marquez trainer Nacho Beristain said. “Juan is so professional and so smart, that once you teach him something, he doesn’t forget it. He knows exactly how to go out there and implement it.”
And his performance Saturday was a perfect example. He was cautious early, gauging Casamayor’s power and timing his hand speed.
Casamayor had success early by ripping Marquez with the right hook, a punch that Beristain said was the only one in Casamayor’s arsenal which concerned him.
But by the fifth round, Casamayor’s hook was essentially neutralized and Marquez began to pour on the offense.
Marquez isn’t known as a puncher, but it was obvious that he was having an impact upon Casamayor. This is a guy who was stalking Corrales, who only was one of the hardest punchers in the last 30 years at lightweight, and forcing Corrales backward for much of their three fights.
But on this night, Marquez was the man doing the dictating. Casamayor was retreating much of the night, circling back and away from Marquez’s quick hands and precise blows.
“Joel needed to keep throwing that 1-2, but he gave up on his combinations after a while,” Casamayor trainer Roger Bloodworth said. “He needed to come in with that hook behind the jab and after a while, he wasn’t doing that as much as I would have liked to have seen.”
Casamayor asked for a rematch, but it’s more likely that Golden Boy Promotions will move Marquez into a fight with the volume-punching Juan Diaz, who was impressive in a victory over Michael Katsidis a week earlier in Houston.
Golden Boy president Oscar De La Hoya suggested that WBA-WBO-IBF champion Nate Campbell and Casamayor were also possibilities.
And a third party threw his name into the equation. “Since De La Hoya is fighting Pacquiao, why not let me fight Marquez?” joked Vernon Forrest, who reclaimed the WBC super welterweight belt with a dominant victory over Sergio Mora in a heated rematch earlier in the night.
All right, it’s a little ridiculous for a guy of Forrest’s height and weight to be fighting a lightweight, though it’s too bad De La Hoya doesn’t feel the same way.
Marquez, though, really isn’t picky when it comes to choosing opponents.
“There’s no way (Top Rank chairman) Bob Arum and Pacquiao are going to fight him again,” Golden Boy CEO Richard Schaefer said. “I don’t think Pacquiao wants anything to do with Juan Manuel Marquez any more. Juan Manuel Marquez will fight anyone. He’s never turned down anyone. Have you ever heard him turn down any opponent?”
This is something of a golden age for lightweights. Yeah, this crop of 135-pounders can’t compare to the kind that were produced in boxing’s heyday, but it’s become one of modern boxing’s best and most competitive divisions.
A bizarre circumstance occurred earlier in Biloxi, Miss., where unbeaten Juan Guzman first missed weight by nearly four pounds Friday for his fight against Campbell, then chose on Saturday not to fight at all, claiming he didn’t feel well.
That absurdity made it easier to appreciate Marquez’s greatness and professionalism. Fighters like him don’t come around all that often. He’s the kind of guy who fights whoever is put in front of him, who leaves everything he has in the ring and who is the epitome of a professional.
He’s spent much of his career in the shadow of higher profile fighters, but that should begin to change.
Whether you thought he won the rematch with Pacquiao or not, it’s clear it was a brilliant and exceedingly close fight.
On Saturday, he managed to drop the iron-chinned Casamayor twice and become the first man to stop him.
Beristain said it annoys him that Marquez has never been widely enough appreciated.
“He is such a humble and quiet guy and he never tells you how good he is,” Beristain said. “All he does is get up in that ring and fight and win. He’s what every trainer would want his fighter to be.”
Pacquiao may be a little faster and a little stronger, and maybe even a little better.
Maybe.
They’ve put on two of the 10 best fights of the decade and it would be cheating the public not to have them fight again.
Once the circus is over in December, the first move that Arum and Schaefer should make is to get Marquez and Pacquiao back into the ring with each other.
That, and not a bout like De La Hoya-Pacquiao, is what this sport craves.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Read this and thought I would share it with you guys
My Dad, the illegal immigrant
From a Chevy's trunk to a home in Orange County: It's still the American dream.
By Gustavo Arellano
September 14, 2008
Millions of Americans point to Ellis Island as the place where their family was first introduced to the United States. Others trace their ancestry to ships that dropped anchor centuries ago in New England. Still more greeted Lady Liberty by way of airplanes and a visa. My father? He fondly remembers the comfortable space in the trunk of a Chevy Bel Air that was his ticket to the American dream.
In 1968, Dad left his dying village of Jomulquillo, in the Mexican state of Zacatecas, to join his three older brothers in East Los Angeles. Eighteen years old, impetuous and with a fourth-grade education, Lorenzo Arellano would have had to do months' worth of paperwork to enter the United States legally -- and there was still no guarantee that he'd be allowed to enter. Youth and a growling stomach have little patience, so my father paid a white woman -- a U.S. citizen -- to sneak him into the United States. In Tijuana, he squeezed into the Chevy's trunk alongside a cousin and another man and prayed.
The Bel Air passed across the U.S.-Mexico border with no problem -- the agents just waved it through. It sped north on Interstate 5 for an hour until it came to the Border Patrol checkpoint just south of San Clemente. The car slowed to a crawl, then stopped. A moment of tension. The migra gave the Chevy the OK to leave.
"We made it!" the other man whispered to Dad and his cousin. They wouldn't speak another word until the woman finally stopped in Chinatown, where two of my uncles greeted young Lorenzo by taking him to a bar and drinking long into the night.
That wasn't the only time Papi entered the United States illegally. Twice, he climbed a fence from Tijuana and ran through the desert east of San Ysidro. Once, he spent a month in jail for using false documents. Perhaps Dad's most dramatic border crossing was when he crawled through a sewage-filled pipeline for about an hour to San Ysidro, in total darkness and with others ahead and behind him. The sewer emptied out near a McDonald's -- insert your own Big Mac joke here.
My father, now a naturalized citizen, never tires of telling these stories to anyone who'll listen -- his eyes light up, he gestures wildly and a smile always cracks wide. And, frankly, neither do I. Although millions of Americans might consider Dad a repeat violator of national sovereignty, I see in his borderland adventures the pluck of the Pilgrims, the resolve of a homesteader, the type of pioneer ethos that has fueled this country for so long. Frederick Jackson Turner was wrong; the American frontier will never close, not as long as there are people like my father who were and are willing to cross deserts, stuff themselves into cars, float across water -- just for the chance to establish themselves in this country and thrive.
Almost every Mexican family I know has followed the same trajectory we have: illegal entry, rough times, hard work leading to success and assimilation for the kids, with the 1986 amnesty helping mucho.
Twenty-nine years of living among illegal immigrants and their American-born children has taught me this truism. And that's why my father's example is crucial and I'll retell it again and again. His story isn't important because it's special; it's important because it's the rule rather than the exception, a rule few want to believe and that therefore must be repeated as often as possible.
I'm glad that my father entered this country illegally. If he had come "the right way," our family's success would've been chalked up as just another example of immigrant can-do. But as an illegal, his accomplishments (as well as mine and my siblings') contradict the conventional wisdom regarding undocumented Mexicans that's been prevalent for this decade. My father's repeated breaking of immigration law is further proof that this country can and does rehabilitate all of her huddled masses, whether legal or not.
Personally, his stories motivate me. If my father could leave his life back in the rancho and risk everything at age 18, I have no excuse to whine about anything. And his stories reward me with the pleasure of watching anti-immigrant loons stumble for words when I ask them to explain how my father and my family could've excelled considering that we come from alien stock.
Dad isn't perfect by any means -- indeed, he's suffered through most of the pathologies that many people attribute to illegal immigrants: Alcoholism. Fecundity. Lack of education. Failure to fully assimilate. It doesn't matter. The life he's crafted for himself is no different from your typical white, middle-class Valley resident who rails about the Mexican invasion.
Does my pride in Dad's outlaw past mean I support a free-for-all at the border? No. We deserve an accurate account of who enters and leaves the United States. We deserve immigrants who don't cheat the system, don't commit crimes against others, who better their communities and don't become burdens. But the traits embodied by Dad and so many more immigrants that spurred them to enter this country illegally -- courage, an indomitable spirit, the ambition to seek a better lot in this country -- are to be lauded and copied. (And spare me the letters about the illegal-entry bit; the Sooners did the same thing, yet we don't flinch when Oklahomans celebrate their spirit). To say this isn't traitorous or even an endorsement of the Reconquista, it's the truth.
We recently celebrated Dad's 57th birthday in the Anaheim home he's just a couple of thousand dollars away from finally paying off. His brothers were there, no longer scared teens running from the law but middle-aged U.S. citizens who want Barack Obama to win the presidential election but hate L.A. Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa (ever since his extramarital affair was uncovered). Their children -- my cousins, almost all children of former illegal immigrants -- sat alongside the pool, feasting on carne asada and keeping an eye on their kids, who don't speak a lick of Spanish. My dad told his tales again, with my uncles corroborating each detail. When we brought out the cake, everyone sang "Happy Birthday" in English. Somewhere, Lou Dobbs cries.
Gustavo Arellano is a contributing editor to Opinion and author of the ¡Ask a Mexican! column in the OC Weekly. His new book, "Orange County: A Personal History," comes out Tuesday.
My Dad, the illegal immigrant
From a Chevy's trunk to a home in Orange County: It's still the American dream.
By Gustavo Arellano
September 14, 2008
Millions of Americans point to Ellis Island as the place where their family was first introduced to the United States. Others trace their ancestry to ships that dropped anchor centuries ago in New England. Still more greeted Lady Liberty by way of airplanes and a visa. My father? He fondly remembers the comfortable space in the trunk of a Chevy Bel Air that was his ticket to the American dream.
In 1968, Dad left his dying village of Jomulquillo, in the Mexican state of Zacatecas, to join his three older brothers in East Los Angeles. Eighteen years old, impetuous and with a fourth-grade education, Lorenzo Arellano would have had to do months' worth of paperwork to enter the United States legally -- and there was still no guarantee that he'd be allowed to enter. Youth and a growling stomach have little patience, so my father paid a white woman -- a U.S. citizen -- to sneak him into the United States. In Tijuana, he squeezed into the Chevy's trunk alongside a cousin and another man and prayed.
The Bel Air passed across the U.S.-Mexico border with no problem -- the agents just waved it through. It sped north on Interstate 5 for an hour until it came to the Border Patrol checkpoint just south of San Clemente. The car slowed to a crawl, then stopped. A moment of tension. The migra gave the Chevy the OK to leave.
"We made it!" the other man whispered to Dad and his cousin. They wouldn't speak another word until the woman finally stopped in Chinatown, where two of my uncles greeted young Lorenzo by taking him to a bar and drinking long into the night.
That wasn't the only time Papi entered the United States illegally. Twice, he climbed a fence from Tijuana and ran through the desert east of San Ysidro. Once, he spent a month in jail for using false documents. Perhaps Dad's most dramatic border crossing was when he crawled through a sewage-filled pipeline for about an hour to San Ysidro, in total darkness and with others ahead and behind him. The sewer emptied out near a McDonald's -- insert your own Big Mac joke here.
My father, now a naturalized citizen, never tires of telling these stories to anyone who'll listen -- his eyes light up, he gestures wildly and a smile always cracks wide. And, frankly, neither do I. Although millions of Americans might consider Dad a repeat violator of national sovereignty, I see in his borderland adventures the pluck of the Pilgrims, the resolve of a homesteader, the type of pioneer ethos that has fueled this country for so long. Frederick Jackson Turner was wrong; the American frontier will never close, not as long as there are people like my father who were and are willing to cross deserts, stuff themselves into cars, float across water -- just for the chance to establish themselves in this country and thrive.
Almost every Mexican family I know has followed the same trajectory we have: illegal entry, rough times, hard work leading to success and assimilation for the kids, with the 1986 amnesty helping mucho.
Twenty-nine years of living among illegal immigrants and their American-born children has taught me this truism. And that's why my father's example is crucial and I'll retell it again and again. His story isn't important because it's special; it's important because it's the rule rather than the exception, a rule few want to believe and that therefore must be repeated as often as possible.
I'm glad that my father entered this country illegally. If he had come "the right way," our family's success would've been chalked up as just another example of immigrant can-do. But as an illegal, his accomplishments (as well as mine and my siblings') contradict the conventional wisdom regarding undocumented Mexicans that's been prevalent for this decade. My father's repeated breaking of immigration law is further proof that this country can and does rehabilitate all of her huddled masses, whether legal or not.
Personally, his stories motivate me. If my father could leave his life back in the rancho and risk everything at age 18, I have no excuse to whine about anything. And his stories reward me with the pleasure of watching anti-immigrant loons stumble for words when I ask them to explain how my father and my family could've excelled considering that we come from alien stock.
Dad isn't perfect by any means -- indeed, he's suffered through most of the pathologies that many people attribute to illegal immigrants: Alcoholism. Fecundity. Lack of education. Failure to fully assimilate. It doesn't matter. The life he's crafted for himself is no different from your typical white, middle-class Valley resident who rails about the Mexican invasion.
Does my pride in Dad's outlaw past mean I support a free-for-all at the border? No. We deserve an accurate account of who enters and leaves the United States. We deserve immigrants who don't cheat the system, don't commit crimes against others, who better their communities and don't become burdens. But the traits embodied by Dad and so many more immigrants that spurred them to enter this country illegally -- courage, an indomitable spirit, the ambition to seek a better lot in this country -- are to be lauded and copied. (And spare me the letters about the illegal-entry bit; the Sooners did the same thing, yet we don't flinch when Oklahomans celebrate their spirit). To say this isn't traitorous or even an endorsement of the Reconquista, it's the truth.
We recently celebrated Dad's 57th birthday in the Anaheim home he's just a couple of thousand dollars away from finally paying off. His brothers were there, no longer scared teens running from the law but middle-aged U.S. citizens who want Barack Obama to win the presidential election but hate L.A. Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa (ever since his extramarital affair was uncovered). Their children -- my cousins, almost all children of former illegal immigrants -- sat alongside the pool, feasting on carne asada and keeping an eye on their kids, who don't speak a lick of Spanish. My dad told his tales again, with my uncles corroborating each detail. When we brought out the cake, everyone sang "Happy Birthday" in English. Somewhere, Lou Dobbs cries.
Gustavo Arellano is a contributing editor to Opinion and author of the ¡Ask a Mexican! column in the OC Weekly. His new book, "Orange County: A Personal History," comes out Tuesday.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Juan Manuel Marquez stops Joel Casamayor in 11th
Jae C. Hong / AP
Juan Manuel Marquez, left, steps back after knocking down Joel Casamayor in the 11th round of their lightweight boxing match Saturday in Las Vegas. Marquez took charge at that point, finally winning by TKO later in the round.
Marquez comes back from loss to Manny Pacquiao and comes up with big punches.
By Bill Dwyre, LATimes
September 14, 2008
LAS VEGAS -- Juan Manuel Marquez, one tough Mexican boxer, took out his recent frustrations in spectacular fashion here Saturday night.
Marquez, still smarting from the split-decision loss he was handed in March at the hands of Manny Pacquiao, made the best statement a boxer can make.
In a 135-pound main event at the MGM Grand, against an older, more wily boxer who knows every trick there is and uses them all, Marquez knocked out Joel Casamayor with two incredible punches.
They came in the 11th round of a fight that Marquez had fairly well taken over by the third or fourth round. The first one sent Casamayor falling backward and down on his butt. And the second completed a go-in-for-the-kill barrage after Casamayor got up and made the mistake of attempting to go on.
This time, Casamayor, three years Marquez's senior at 37, went down hard and referee Tony Weeks dived on him to cover him up and make sure there would be no more punches thrown. Casamayor's corner descended on the veteran in concern, but he was OK and eventually walked out of the ring, waving to the fans.
Marquez has fought in the shadow of other Mexican fighters for years, including Marco Antonio Barrera and Erik Morales.
And now, at 34, his star is suddenly rising, as it did even after he lost while fighting Pacquiao.
Even Casamayor, who has been fighting on a world-class level since he won a gold medal for Cuba in the 1992 Olympics, appreciated Marquez's skills.
"I fought like a real champion, but Marquez was the best tonight," Casamayor said. "He knew how to control my punches."
Afterward, Marquez talked about the future, about how he had come up in weight to make this fight and how he would be open to fighting anybody at any reasonable weight class.
Casamayor, whose record went to 36-4-1, wasn't quite as certain about the days ahead.
Asked about continuing, he said, at first, that he wanted a rematch and then seemed to back off.
"I'm just very emotional," Casamayor said.
Marquez said, "I wanted to fight for all the Mexican people and I did that. He was the best lightweight in the world, but I was the more intelligent fighter tonight. I knew how to neutralize his left hand."
Not totally. When the fight ended, Marquez's right eye resembled what it looked like after Pacquiao, another left-hander, had fired on it for 12 rounds.
But this time, you should have seen the other guy.
Casamayor had cuts around both eyes and his nose seemed to change shape after several shots on it in the sixth round. Most likely, it was broken, although Casamayor continued with nary a blink.
Before the roundhouse round, Marquez's big 11th, the evening had its share of moments. That's why they call these things boxing "shows."
The semi-main event was a contest between a veteran, Vernon Forrest, and a fighter from East L.A., Sergio Mora, at 154 pounds. Forrest has won multiple titles over the years, but Mora was the champion of the division and sanctioning body they fought for, a body that will not be mentioned here because there are so many of them almost none of them matter.
What was interesting was that Mora had gotten this big fight at least partly on the basis of winning a made-for-TV boxing show, "The Contender."
Mora had won the title in June in Connecticut, but this time, Forrest dominated and said afterward, "You now saw a real champion and a broken contender."
Mora countered, "He's an old guy. I should have won."
Before the main event, they played three national anthems, one from Mexico, one from Cuba and one from the United States. Casamayor entered the ring, draped in a Cuban flag.
Stranger things have taken place in boxing, certainly, but Casamayor hasn't lived in Cuba for 12 years and, as a defector just prior to the Atlanta Olympics in 1996, probably isn't welcomed back. He lives in Miami.
In the best fight of the night, until Marquez unleashed two roundhouses in the 11th round of the main event, Oxnard's Victor Ortiz, only 21, won his first pro title, sent his record to 22-1-1 and looked the vastly superior fighter against the champion, Roberto Arrieta of Argentina.
"He was talking to me during the fight," Ortiz said. "He told me I was too young to be the champion. During that round, I dropped him and said, 'Now I'm world champion.' "
This fight card did not have the marquee value of many others, and the attendance was 7,882, or about 2,000 shy of capacity for the boxing setup.
But, in one sensational flurry, Marquez made it worth the money spent by those who did show up.
Bill Dwyre can be reached at [email protected]. To read previous columns, go to latimes.com/dwyre.
Jae C. Hong / AP
Juan Manuel Marquez, left, steps back after knocking down Joel Casamayor in the 11th round of their lightweight boxing match Saturday in Las Vegas. Marquez took charge at that point, finally winning by TKO later in the round.
Marquez comes back from loss to Manny Pacquiao and comes up with big punches.
By Bill Dwyre, LATimes
September 14, 2008
LAS VEGAS -- Juan Manuel Marquez, one tough Mexican boxer, took out his recent frustrations in spectacular fashion here Saturday night.
Marquez, still smarting from the split-decision loss he was handed in March at the hands of Manny Pacquiao, made the best statement a boxer can make.
In a 135-pound main event at the MGM Grand, against an older, more wily boxer who knows every trick there is and uses them all, Marquez knocked out Joel Casamayor with two incredible punches.
They came in the 11th round of a fight that Marquez had fairly well taken over by the third or fourth round. The first one sent Casamayor falling backward and down on his butt. And the second completed a go-in-for-the-kill barrage after Casamayor got up and made the mistake of attempting to go on.
This time, Casamayor, three years Marquez's senior at 37, went down hard and referee Tony Weeks dived on him to cover him up and make sure there would be no more punches thrown. Casamayor's corner descended on the veteran in concern, but he was OK and eventually walked out of the ring, waving to the fans.
Marquez has fought in the shadow of other Mexican fighters for years, including Marco Antonio Barrera and Erik Morales.
And now, at 34, his star is suddenly rising, as it did even after he lost while fighting Pacquiao.
Even Casamayor, who has been fighting on a world-class level since he won a gold medal for Cuba in the 1992 Olympics, appreciated Marquez's skills.
"I fought like a real champion, but Marquez was the best tonight," Casamayor said. "He knew how to control my punches."
Afterward, Marquez talked about the future, about how he had come up in weight to make this fight and how he would be open to fighting anybody at any reasonable weight class.
Casamayor, whose record went to 36-4-1, wasn't quite as certain about the days ahead.
Asked about continuing, he said, at first, that he wanted a rematch and then seemed to back off.
"I'm just very emotional," Casamayor said.
Marquez said, "I wanted to fight for all the Mexican people and I did that. He was the best lightweight in the world, but I was the more intelligent fighter tonight. I knew how to neutralize his left hand."
Not totally. When the fight ended, Marquez's right eye resembled what it looked like after Pacquiao, another left-hander, had fired on it for 12 rounds.
But this time, you should have seen the other guy.
Casamayor had cuts around both eyes and his nose seemed to change shape after several shots on it in the sixth round. Most likely, it was broken, although Casamayor continued with nary a blink.
Before the roundhouse round, Marquez's big 11th, the evening had its share of moments. That's why they call these things boxing "shows."
The semi-main event was a contest between a veteran, Vernon Forrest, and a fighter from East L.A., Sergio Mora, at 154 pounds. Forrest has won multiple titles over the years, but Mora was the champion of the division and sanctioning body they fought for, a body that will not be mentioned here because there are so many of them almost none of them matter.
What was interesting was that Mora had gotten this big fight at least partly on the basis of winning a made-for-TV boxing show, "The Contender."
Mora had won the title in June in Connecticut, but this time, Forrest dominated and said afterward, "You now saw a real champion and a broken contender."
Mora countered, "He's an old guy. I should have won."
Before the main event, they played three national anthems, one from Mexico, one from Cuba and one from the United States. Casamayor entered the ring, draped in a Cuban flag.
Stranger things have taken place in boxing, certainly, but Casamayor hasn't lived in Cuba for 12 years and, as a defector just prior to the Atlanta Olympics in 1996, probably isn't welcomed back. He lives in Miami.
In the best fight of the night, until Marquez unleashed two roundhouses in the 11th round of the main event, Oxnard's Victor Ortiz, only 21, won his first pro title, sent his record to 22-1-1 and looked the vastly superior fighter against the champion, Roberto Arrieta of Argentina.
"He was talking to me during the fight," Ortiz said. "He told me I was too young to be the champion. During that round, I dropped him and said, 'Now I'm world champion.' "
This fight card did not have the marquee value of many others, and the attendance was 7,882, or about 2,000 shy of capacity for the boxing setup.
But, in one sensational flurry, Marquez made it worth the money spent by those who did show up.
Bill Dwyre can be reached at [email protected]. To read previous columns, go to latimes.com/dwyre.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Sandy Saddler
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Jose Stable...C.1960
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
You guys remember this thrilling fighter from Yesteryear?
Henry Hank and manager Harry Baxter
Henry Hank and manager Harry Baxter
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Juan Manuel and Rafael fight hard and play hard. 
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Stable fought in Britain a few times, notably against Dave Charnley, who beat him. Stable was on a hot run when he lost to "Dartford Dave".kikibalt wrote:
Jose Stable...C.1960
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
He fought Chic Calderwood, and he licked Chic Calderwood. Henry came in at 168, which means he was stuck between divisions.kikibalt wrote:You guys remember this thrilling fighter from Yesteryear?
Henry Hank and manager Harry Baxter
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Nice photos, Bennie....bennie wrote:Juan Manuel and Rafael fight hard and play hard.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
These photos did the 'rounds' a couple of years ago on the net, and caused a bit of a sensation. A couple of world champions, a couple of 'raving irons'.kikibalt wrote:Nice photos, Bennie....bennie wrote:Juan Manuel and Rafael fight hard and play hard.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Hank lost to John McCormack in you neck of the woods, Bennie...bennie wrote:He fought Chic Calderwood, and he licked Chic Calderwood. Henry came in at 168, which means he was stuck between divisions.kikibalt wrote:You guys remember this thrilling fighter from Yesteryear?
Henry Hank and manager Harry Baxter
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Yeah. Hank fought EVERYONE.kikibalt wrote:Hank lost to John McCormack in you neck of the woods, Bennie...bennie wrote:He fought Chic Calderwood, and he licked Chic Calderwood. Henry came in at 168, which means he was stuck between divisions.kikibalt wrote:You guys remember this thrilling fighter from Yesteryear?
Henry Hank and manager Harry Baxter
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Davey Moore
"Davey"
By Diego
"Davey"
By Diego
-
Rick Farris
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 7200
- Joined: 15 Feb 2008, 16:04
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Brian . . . E-mail me with your mailing address and I'll get your ticket in the mail for you. Also, when you book your room, be sure to mention that you are associated with the WBHOF for the special rate. There should be no problem, but if there is, be sure to notify me and I'll make sure things are taken care of. This is GREAT! I really look forward to meeting you. We have Kiki, Dagos, Scartissue, Pug, Randy & myself reping this thread.Expug wrote:This is doable.Rick Farris wrote:Brian . . . We need you out here, and yes, I will make sure you have a ticket. Just let me know as soon as you can, so I can see that you have a seat right next to your Uncle John, who will be sitting between Frank & Roger. Seriously, let me know by E-mail ([email protected]). I regret only having one ticket for you, but the event is a sell-out already. It will take place at the Los Angeles LAX Airport Marriot Hotel on November 15th (Sat.). If you need a room, the Hotel is offering a special rate ($99 per nite) for those associated with the WBHOF. I have the tickets, and will see you are at the same table as Frank, Rog, Randy and Scar. Gene LeBell has also been invited, but he has yet to RSVP. I'd really like you to meet him.Expug wrote:Rick, I will know in a week or so about my November work schedule.
If its not too late and if I can swing it, is it still ok for me to make the trip out there?
Uncle John said I can take his place at the event.
Maybe you can shoot me some details on a PM .
Location, time ,etc.
Brian
-Rick
Im gonna book a room a room at the Marriott.
I'll be there.
I'll fly out Friday and leave early Sunday.
It will be great meeting the guys on the thread.
Count me in and let me know how much I owe for the ticket.
Looking forward to it.
Brian
-Rick
-Rick
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
I am going to book a room, so Connie and I can spent the nite there and not have to drive home that nite, better safe then sorry.....Good :idea:Rick Farris wrote:Brian . . . We need you out here, and yes, I will make sure you have a ticket. Just let me know as soon as you can, so I can see that you have a seat right next to your Uncle John, who will be sitting between Frank & Roger. Seriously, let me know by E-mail ([email protected]). I regret only having one ticket for you, but the event is a sell-out already. It will take place at the Los Angeles LAX Airport Marriot Hotel on November 15th (Sat.). If you need a room, the Hotel is offering a special rate ($99 per nite) for those associated with the WBHOF. I have the tickets, and will see you are at the same table as Frank, Rog, Randy and Scar. Gene LeBell has also been invited, but he has yet to RSVP. I'd really like you to meet him.
-Rick
This is doable.
Im gonna book a room a room at the Marriott.
I'll be there.
I'll fly out Friday and leave early Sunday.
It will be great meeting the guys on the thread.
Count me in and let me know how much I owe for the ticket.
Looking forward to it.
Brian
Brian . . . E-mail me with your mailing address and I'll get your ticket in the mail for you. Also, when you book your room, be sure to mention that you are associated with the WBHOF for the special rate. There should be no problem, but if there is, be sure to notify me and I'll make sure things are taken care of. This is GREAT! I really look forward to meeting you. We have Kiki, Dagos, Scartissue, Pug, Randy & myself reping this thread.
-Rick
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
I missed all the fights last night to attend the wedding of the daughter of an old friend yesterday. The reception lasted well into the night, as I knew it would. I don’t regret it though. It was a great day and a great wedding. My Friend, Ricardo, is from Guatemala, his wife was from either El Paso, Texas or Juarez, Mexico, she was never 100% clear on that, I’m not sure she ever really knew. Or maybe I’m the one that wasn’t clear.
This family is very special to my family. Many years ago when my wife and I were renting, they lived in the house behind us, on the same lot. It’s ironic because for the first year Ricardo and I did not exactly hit it off. Our kids became friends and so did our wives but with Ricardo and I it took a while. In time we all became almost like one big family on that property. In time Ricardo became much more than my friend. He became more like family. All of them did. They were humble beyond belief. Decent, hardworking, good people. The wife, Socorro passed away a couple of years ago. She was in her late forties. It was hard on Ricardo. Their kids are the salt of the Earth. Their kids and ours have remained friends over the years. More like cousins than friends.
Years ago when I was out of work and on disability for a few months, Socorro came up to me and handed me some money. I was puzzled and asked “What’s this?” She said to me. “You are on disability, take this”. Now, you should know, that even while on disability I was making more money than Ricardo and Socorro combined. They were not people of means. They were struggling. Barely making ends meet, if even that. So naturally I couldn’t accept the money, $75.00. I tried to give it back but she wouldn’t take it. Their daughter Melina was with her. She said to me, almost pleading” Randy, you have to take the money, my mother will be hurt, she won’t understand”. So I accepted the money. I have to tell you guys. It was one of the most humbling experience in my life. This woman was an angel. They both did many acts of kindness for my family and we in turn did our best for them. There were a few times when I was really able to repay them, sometimes without them knowing.
Socorro would have been proud of her children yesterday. They raised good kids. Smart kids. Hardworking patriotic American kids. My own kids admire them. The are three of them Brian, Melina and Kevin.
So yesterday was Melina”s wedding day. It was at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Whittier. It was a traditional Catholic wedding. It was an emotional experience for everyone, friends and family. I’m not exaggerating when I say Socorro’s spirit was in that church. Now I am no sissy but I had a few tears in my eyes. Ricardo walked his daughter down the aisle and you could see the emotion coming from them. I wouldn’t have missed this wedding for all the money in the world.
Later, at the reception, Ricardo and I were reminiscing about the old days. Remembering when our kids were little and how that backyard was filled with their noise every night until we called them in to do there homework. In the summer we let them stay up late. It was a fenced yard so we checked up on them but we didn’t really worry. Those days, in that home, on that lot, were some of the best days of our lives. We saw the sadness in each other’s eyes as we realized that those days are gone forever. They will never be back. We made a toast to the past, to Socorro and to the future. I’m glad I missed those fights last night.
This family is very special to my family. Many years ago when my wife and I were renting, they lived in the house behind us, on the same lot. It’s ironic because for the first year Ricardo and I did not exactly hit it off. Our kids became friends and so did our wives but with Ricardo and I it took a while. In time we all became almost like one big family on that property. In time Ricardo became much more than my friend. He became more like family. All of them did. They were humble beyond belief. Decent, hardworking, good people. The wife, Socorro passed away a couple of years ago. She was in her late forties. It was hard on Ricardo. Their kids are the salt of the Earth. Their kids and ours have remained friends over the years. More like cousins than friends.
Years ago when I was out of work and on disability for a few months, Socorro came up to me and handed me some money. I was puzzled and asked “What’s this?” She said to me. “You are on disability, take this”. Now, you should know, that even while on disability I was making more money than Ricardo and Socorro combined. They were not people of means. They were struggling. Barely making ends meet, if even that. So naturally I couldn’t accept the money, $75.00. I tried to give it back but she wouldn’t take it. Their daughter Melina was with her. She said to me, almost pleading” Randy, you have to take the money, my mother will be hurt, she won’t understand”. So I accepted the money. I have to tell you guys. It was one of the most humbling experience in my life. This woman was an angel. They both did many acts of kindness for my family and we in turn did our best for them. There were a few times when I was really able to repay them, sometimes without them knowing.
Socorro would have been proud of her children yesterday. They raised good kids. Smart kids. Hardworking patriotic American kids. My own kids admire them. The are three of them Brian, Melina and Kevin.
So yesterday was Melina”s wedding day. It was at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Whittier. It was a traditional Catholic wedding. It was an emotional experience for everyone, friends and family. I’m not exaggerating when I say Socorro’s spirit was in that church. Now I am no sissy but I had a few tears in my eyes. Ricardo walked his daughter down the aisle and you could see the emotion coming from them. I wouldn’t have missed this wedding for all the money in the world.
Later, at the reception, Ricardo and I were reminiscing about the old days. Remembering when our kids were little and how that backyard was filled with their noise every night until we called them in to do there homework. In the summer we let them stay up late. It was a fenced yard so we checked up on them but we didn’t really worry. Those days, in that home, on that lot, were some of the best days of our lives. We saw the sadness in each other’s eyes as we realized that those days are gone forever. They will never be back. We made a toast to the past, to Socorro and to the future. I’m glad I missed those fights last night.
Last edited by Randyman on 14 Sep 2008, 16:03, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
I was thinking of doing the same thing. Besides I might want more than my usual two beers. Regardless I'm sure I won't feel like driving home that night.kikibalt wrote:I am going to book a room, so Connie and I can spent the nite there and not have to drive home that nite, better safe then sorry.....Good :idea:Rick Farris wrote:Brian . . . We need you out here, and yes, I will make sure you have a ticket. Just let me know as soon as you can, so I can see that you have a seat right next to your Uncle John, who will be sitting between Frank & Roger. Seriously, let me know by E-mail ([email protected]). I regret only having one ticket for you, but the event is a sell-out already. It will take place at the Los Angeles LAX Airport Marriot Hotel on November 15th (Sat.). If you need a room, the Hotel is offering a special rate ($99 per nite) for those associated with the WBHOF. I have the tickets, and will see you are at the same table as Frank, Rog, Randy and Scar. Gene LeBell has also been invited, but he has yet to RSVP. I'd really like you to meet him.
-Rick
This is doable.
Im gonna book a room a room at the Marriott.
I'll be there.
I'll fly out Friday and leave early Sunday.
It will be great meeting the guys on the thread.
Count me in and let me know how much I owe for the ticket.
Looking forward to it.
Brian
Brian . . . E-mail me with your mailing address and I'll get your ticket in the mail for you. Also, when you book your room, be sure to mention that you are associated with the WBHOF for the special rate. There should be no problem, but if there is, be sure to notify me and I'll make sure things are taken care of. This is GREAT! I really look forward to meeting you. We have Kiki, Dagos, Scartissue, Pug, Randy & myself reping this thread.
-Rick
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Now all we need is to get our friends from across the pond to come and joint us, are you listening, Bennie?
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Look at the determination on Marquez' face. He wasn't going to lose.kikibalt wrote:
LAS VEGAS - SEPTEMBER 13: Juan Manuel Marquez (R) hits Joel Casamayor in the sixth round of their bout at the MGM Grand Garden Arena September 13, 2008 in Las Vegas, Nevada. Marquez won by knockout in the 11th round. (Photo by Ethan Miller/Getty Images)
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
That was inspirational Frank. I'm sure many will disagree with his perspective. It was one story out of millions.kikibalt wrote:Read this and thought I would share it with you guys
My Dad, the illegal immigrant
From a Chevy's trunk to a home in Orange County: It's still the American dream.
By Gustavo Arellano
September 14, 2008
Millions of Americans point to Ellis Island as the place where their family was first introduced to the United States. Others trace their ancestry to ships that dropped anchor centuries ago in New England. Still more greeted Lady Liberty by way of airplanes and a visa. My father? He fondly remembers the comfortable space in the trunk of a Chevy Bel Air that was his ticket to the American dream.
In 1968, Dad left his dying village of Jomulquillo, in the Mexican state of Zacatecas, to join his three older brothers in East Los Angeles. Eighteen years old, impetuous and with a fourth-grade education, Lorenzo Arellano would have had to do months' worth of paperwork to enter the United States legally -- and there was still no guarantee that he'd be allowed to enter. Youth and a growling stomach have little patience, so my father paid a white woman -- a U.S. citizen -- to sneak him into the United States. In Tijuana, he squeezed into the Chevy's trunk alongside a cousin and another man and prayed.
The Bel Air passed across the U.S.-Mexico border with no problem -- the agents just waved it through. It sped north on Interstate 5 for an hour until it came to the Border Patrol checkpoint just south of San Clemente. The car slowed to a crawl, then stopped. A moment of tension. The migra gave the Chevy the OK to leave.
"We made it!" the other man whispered to Dad and his cousin. They wouldn't speak another word until the woman finally stopped in Chinatown, where two of my uncles greeted young Lorenzo by taking him to a bar and drinking long into the night.
That wasn't the only time Papi entered the United States illegally. Twice, he climbed a fence from Tijuana and ran through the desert east of San Ysidro. Once, he spent a month in jail for using false documents. Perhaps Dad's most dramatic border crossing was when he crawled through a sewage-filled pipeline for about an hour to San Ysidro, in total darkness and with others ahead and behind him. The sewer emptied out near a McDonald's -- insert your own Big Mac joke here.
My father, now a naturalized citizen, never tires of telling these stories to anyone who'll listen -- his eyes light up, he gestures wildly and a smile always cracks wide. And, frankly, neither do I. Although millions of Americans might consider Dad a repeat violator of national sovereignty, I see in his borderland adventures the pluck of the Pilgrims, the resolve of a homesteader, the type of pioneer ethos that has fueled this country for so long. Frederick Jackson Turner was wrong; the American frontier will never close, not as long as there are people like my father who were and are willing to cross deserts, stuff themselves into cars, float across water -- just for the chance to establish themselves in this country and thrive.
Almost every Mexican family I know has followed the same trajectory we have: illegal entry, rough times, hard work leading to success and assimilation for the kids, with the 1986 amnesty helping mucho.
Twenty-nine years of living among illegal immigrants and their American-born children has taught me this truism. And that's why my father's example is crucial and I'll retell it again and again. His story isn't important because it's special; it's important because it's the rule rather than the exception, a rule few want to believe and that therefore must be repeated as often as possible.
I'm glad that my father entered this country illegally. If he had come "the right way," our family's success would've been chalked up as just another example of immigrant can-do. But as an illegal, his accomplishments (as well as mine and my siblings') contradict the conventional wisdom regarding undocumented Mexicans that's been prevalent for this decade. My father's repeated breaking of immigration law is further proof that this country can and does rehabilitate all of her huddled masses, whether legal or not.
Personally, his stories motivate me. If my father could leave his life back in the rancho and risk everything at age 18, I have no excuse to whine about anything. And his stories reward me with the pleasure of watching anti-immigrant loons stumble for words when I ask them to explain how my father and my family could've excelled considering that we come from alien stock.
Dad isn't perfect by any means -- indeed, he's suffered through most of the pathologies that many people attribute to illegal immigrants: Alcoholism. Fecundity. Lack of education. Failure to fully assimilate. It doesn't matter. The life he's crafted for himself is no different from your typical white, middle-class Valley resident who rails about the Mexican invasion.
Does my pride in Dad's outlaw past mean I support a free-for-all at the border? No. We deserve an accurate account of who enters and leaves the United States. We deserve immigrants who don't cheat the system, don't commit crimes against others, who better their communities and don't become burdens. But the traits embodied by Dad and so many more immigrants that spurred them to enter this country illegally -- courage, an indomitable spirit, the ambition to seek a better lot in this country -- are to be lauded and copied. (And spare me the letters about the illegal-entry bit; the Sooners did the same thing, yet we don't flinch when Oklahomans celebrate their spirit). To say this isn't traitorous or even an endorsement of the Reconquista, it's the truth.
We recently celebrated Dad's 57th birthday in the Anaheim home he's just a couple of thousand dollars away from finally paying off. His brothers were there, no longer scared teens running from the law but middle-aged U.S. citizens who want Barack Obama to win the presidential election but hate L.A. Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa (ever since his extramarital affair was uncovered). Their children -- my cousins, almost all children of former illegal immigrants -- sat alongside the pool, feasting on carne asada and keeping an eye on their kids, who don't speak a lick of Spanish. My dad told his tales again, with my uncles corroborating each detail. When we brought out the cake, everyone sang "Happy Birthday" in English. Somewhere, Lou Dobbs cries.
Gustavo Arellano is a contributing editor to Opinion and author of the ¡Ask a Mexican! column in the OC Weekly. His new book, "Orange County: A Personal History," comes out Tuesday.