They call him the Golden Boy, and not just because he was the only American boxer to win a gold medal at the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona.
Speaking with Oscar De La Hoya
Undefeated W.B.O. lightweight champion Oscar De La Hoya looks like a movie star, talks like a junior executive — and punches like a miniature Mike Tyson. All but two of his 21 pro fights have ended in knockouts, and now De La Hoya is about to face his sternest test: On June 7 he’ll do battle with the great junior-welterweight champion Julio Cesar Chavez at Caesar’s Palace in Las Vegas.
Tickets sold out soon after they went on sale in February, and Chavez and De La Hoya will earn a guaranteed minimum of $9 million each. They may haul in a lot more: The bout, which will be televised on closed circuit to arenas and theaters across the country, promises to be the biggest non-heavyweight title fight since Sugar Ray Leonard last duked it out with Marvelous Marvin Hagler.
“Of all the great Latin fighters, and there’ve been many — including Chavez — there’s never been one who’s been able really to appeal to both Anglo and Hispanic markets,” says Rich Rose, president of Caesar’s World Sports. “Oscar is boxing’s first crossover star. He’s got a heart and a conscience, and he’s impressive both inside and outside the ring.”
It’s been a remarkable journey for the son of Mexican immigrants. Born in East Los Angeles, De La Hoya was a quiet, clean-cut kid who won fistfuls of amateur boxing competitions while in his early teens. His biggest booster was his mother, Cecilia, whose fondest dream was to see her son with an Olympic gold medal draped around his neck. That was a goal they both aimed for.
Cecilia De La Hoya died of breast cancer two years before her boy made good on his promise. Since then De La Hoya has pounded his way to prominence. In 1995 alone, when he was named Fighter of the Year by the Boxing Writers Association of America, De La Hoya outpointed one world champion and knocked out three others.
“I heard some boos and it felt ugly.”
Larry Linderman interviewed De La Hoya for Penthouse at the boxer’s training camp in Big Bear, California.
You’re a world champion, you’re already a multimillionaire, and you just turned 23. When you became a professional boxer in 1992, did you ever think you’d come this far this fast?
De La Hoya: In terms of money, I thought it would take five or six years before I got to the top, which is where I am. I never, in my wildest dreams, thought it would come to me at such an early age. When I was a kid I fantasized about having a nice sports car, but never about making it this big. I didn’t realize I had the talent that might allow me to become a great champion.
How did you happen to start boxing in the first place?
De La Hoya: My father, who’d been a fighter, introduced my older brother, Joel, to boxing. Joel didn’t really like the sport — you’ve got to love it to do it — but he got into it for a while. I remember going with him to a place in downtown Los Angeles to buy some handwraps. I told Joel, “Buy me some too.” He bought them, and a week later I wore them down to the gym. I was six years old. I’ve been boxing ever since.
When was the first time you knew that you had real ability?
De La Hoya: I won a U.S. amateur title when I was ten — the weight was 95 pounds. When I was 11 I set a goal for myself: to win an Olympic gold medal. My understanding was that I was in boxing for life. As a kid I had a lot of success at it, and I just loved boxing and spent three or four hours a day in the gym. I also loved the fact that I kept winning and would receive a trophy at the end of a tournament. I probably have 50 or 60 trophies from big national tournaments that I won, starting from the time I was ten.
A number of U.S. boxers who were Olympic gold medalists subsequently went nowhere in pro boxing. After you won your gold medal in 1992 and turned pro, did you find that you were entering a much more rugged realm of fighting?
De La Hoya: Yes, but I already knew about that. Paul Gonzales, who’s also from Los Angeles, won a gold medal at the 1984 Olympics. When he turned pro he realized it was a totally different level of boxing. He didn’t make it. He had 22 fights, and that was it for him.
After your first couple of pro bouts, did you think you had to improve to become a champion?
De La Hoya: I just knew it was going to take a lot of time, but I’d had 235 amateur fights and had lost only four. Even so, I realized that wasn’t enough for professional boxing — I needed more experience, and I still do. It’s going to take a few more years for me to become a complete fighter. When I had my first pro fight I knocked the guy out in one round, but in the back of my mind I was thinking, “You know what? It seems easy now, but later on it’s going to be very tough, because this is a much tougher level of fighting than I’m used to.”
You’ve knocked out 19 of your 21 opponents. Did your bouts really become as difficult as you thought they would?
De La Hoya: Oh yes, especially when I fought John — John Molina. That fight [in February 1995] turned everything around for me. It went 12 rounds, and made me realize that I needed to work harder, that I wasn’t invincible, that I can get hit, and that if I don’t train and if I’m not ready, I can get beat.
Why weren’t you as prepared as you should have been?
De La Hoya: I really got sidetracked; I thought I was on top of the world. I thought I didn’t have to train hard, and that I could still beat anybody. Even though I won the decision, the Molina fight was a real wakeup call for me.
Was it just a matter of returning to your normal training routine?
De La Hoya: No, we hired another trainer — his name is Jesus Rivero, and he’s about 67 years old. They call him “the Professor.” That man changed everything for me.
Exactly what did he change?
De La Hoya: My defense. I’m not getting hit at all now. I’m moving from my waist more, and moving my head more. In the first couple of rounds of my fights I work on nothing but defense, so that I can frustrate my opponent. An opponent who gets frustrated keeps on throwing punches and leaves himself wide open — and that’s when I come in with my combinations.
That’s quite unlike the macho warrior you were until recently.
De La Hoya: It is, yes. I used to just come in and attack and knock my man out and get it over with. That’s all I did, and that’s all I worried about. I was very confident that I had the power to knock guys out with either hand. I can still do that, but now I’m fighting smarter. I used to leave myself wide open; I was a target. I got my knockouts, but I wasn’t being careful about my defense. As I said, now I’m not getting hit — and I’m still knocking my opponents out.
Did your change of style have an effect on the crowds that turn out for your fights?
De La Hoya: It was a big change for them, because diehard boxing fans want to see blood and bruises and all that. I’ve adopted the style of a defensive boxer — I’m more like a New York fighter now. Fans from New York like to see more boxing, more defense; on the West Coast, fans want to see blood and knockouts. So it was a big change for me and for them.
Is it possible to be a champion and not have solid defensive skills?
De La Hoya: Not really. Any fighter — every fighter — can go up in the ring and throw punches, but to be a great champion, to be a complete fighter, you need that defense. You have to be able to hit your opponent and not get hit. That’s the objective of the sport, and that’s really the name of the game: Hit and don’t get hit.
Let’s take this conversation outside the ring for a moment. The only rap against you seems to be that your Olympic and pro titles and all the money you’ve made have come too easily.
De La Hoya: But it’s hasn’t been easy; it’s been a struggle for me. I grew up in a very poor neighborhood. We didn’t really have anything, and I was a very shy kid. Yes, I’m one of the fortunate ones who made it; but now that I’ve made it, a lot of people in the neighborhood don’t like it. I went to the Olympic Games, and stardom came to me overnight. Well, some people think that the fame and the money came to me just like that, without any work. They’re not here with me training six hours a day, every day, for two months before a fight. They don’t realize the hard work that I do. There’s a lot of jealousy and envy involved, especially in the neighborhood where I grew up.
You grew up in East Los Angeles. Have you fought other boxers from the same neighborhood?
De La Hoya: I fought two guys from the neighborhood who were world champions, and I beat them — Genaro Hernandez and Rafael Ruelas. Hernandez was an undefeated world champion, and I was the favorite to win the fight, but in my own neighborhood I was the underdog — people wanted me to lose. I walked down the aisle at Caesar’s Palace and 18,000 people were cheering me on, but when I got to the ring I heard some boos and it felt ugly. It felt terrible. It hurts a lot because my own people — from where I grew up — are kind of stabbing me in the back. Before a fight they’re thinking, “We want to see you lose, because you’ve had it so easy.” Well, I haven’t had it easy. Still, if I win, they’re going to be with me.
Most boxing experts regard your upcoming bout with Julio Cesar Chavez as the most important of your career. Are you preparing for it differently than you do for your other fights?
De La Hoya: Yes, but it’s nothing dramatic. For the Chavez fight I’ve brought in a cardiovascular specialist and a nutritionist, so that I can be a solid 140 pounds. Bob Arum, my promoter, knows a lot of people and he helped me out with that.
Given the power of boxing promoters like Arum and Don King, does it seem to you that they are now replacing fight managers?
De La Hoya: Yeah, and I like it. Promoters don’t cost a fighter anything, but managers take a third of everything a boxer earns. Most boxers think they need a manager to get them fights and maybe make them a world champion. They’re wrong; a promoter can do that for you. Bob Arum is my friend, and he’s like the straightest promoter out there. He’s very intelligent — he graduated from Harvard — and I respect him a lot because he tells it the way it is. We work like this: Bob gives me a list of boxers I might want to fight, and after talking with my advisers I pick my opponent. He then gives my lawyers the figures I’m going to earn, but if we ask for more money he’s willing to negotiate. He’s not a man who’d say, “You’re going to get this much, and that’s it. I don’t want to hear anymore.” My lawyers negotiate with him for me. My chief lawyer is Mike Hernandez, a well-known man in the community who owns a big Chevrolet dealership. And those are the only people a boxer needs — a promoter and his own lawyer.
Your lawyer is obviously doing a good Job — the Chavez fight will bring you a minimum of $9 million. This will be the most lucrative bout you’ve ever had. Do you think it will also be your toughest?
De La Hoya: I truly think it’s going to be a good fight, but it’s not going to be the rough, tough fight most people think. I’m sure I’ll have much tougher fights in the future — against a Pernell Whitaker or against a Felix Trinidad. I’m not taking anything away from Chavez; he’s a smart, confident, and very experienced fighter. I respect the man a lot. But this won’t be my toughest fight.
Would it be if Chavez were six years younger?
De La Hoya: I wouldn’t think of fighting him now if he was six years younger. But if he was six years younger — and if I had three more years of experience — it would make a great and very challenging fight for both of us.
This will be his final fight. Do you think Chavez may have hung around for one bout too many?
De La Hoya: We’ll see. Back in the days when he had speed, Chavez was very dangerous because he had all the power in the world. He can still knock anybody out; one mistake and I can get knocked out. But like any other athlete, the years of wear and tear are going to get to you. And Chavez at 33 is not the same fighter he once was. He doesn’t train as hard as he used to, and he’s become very slow. Now that I’m fighting him, I keep telling everyone it’s going to be a great honor to be in the same ring with a legend, with my idol, and he was my idol when I was growing up. But it’s just going to be another fight for me, another opponent.
“It hurts a lot because my own people — from where I grew up — are kind of stabbing me in the back.”
Didn’t you once spar with Chavez when you were in high school?
De La Hoya: Yes, I sparred with him when I was 16. Chavez had an advantage of about 20 pounds; I was a featherweight and he was already a junior welterweight. I got excited and started throwing everything I had. Chavez thought, “You know what? I better hit this kid with a right hand so he can calm down.” He caught me with a right and he didn’t floor me, but I felt weak in my legs, and my right leg kind of buckled. That was the very first time that happened to me.
Had you ever been in a ring with anyone nearly as good?
De La Hoya: Not as experienced as he was, no. Chavez was the first professional world champion that I stepped into a ring with. But I didn’t really learn anything from him because I was a faster boxer. The only thing that impressed me about Chavez was his power.
Was that the hardest you’ve ever been hit?
De La Hoya: No, later that year I sparred with Joe Olivo, a world-champion featherweight. He was the hardest puncher in that division, and had no problem knocking guys out with his right hand. He caught me with a good right hand. I felt dizzy from that punch. I saw it coming from a distance — and I didn’t move. It was like, “Uh-oh, watch it, here it comes.” That was the hardest I’ve ever been hit.
What’s the hardest punch you’ve ever landed?
De La Hoya: It came in my first big tournament. When I turned 16 I fought in my first Golden Gloves, against guys who were 16 to 30 years old. In my first bout — I went on to win the national featherweight title — I fought a Navy guy who was a two-time Golden Gloves champion. I hit him with a left hook that I put my whole body into, and caught him right on the button. People were scared, because he was on the mat for about four minutes. I mean, that guy was out. I was in shock because he didn’t get up. It was a very deadly punch.
On a scale of one to ten, how do you rate your punching power?
De La Hoya: Personally, I rate myself as a ten. I’ve always had punching power. That’s been my big advantage.
Despite all your K.O.s, you’re generally not regarded as a devastating puncher Why not?
De La Hoya: Probably because it doesn’t look as if I’m hitting a guy hard. But my opponents will tell you that I do hit hard. Every time I fight, my opponent is always thinking, “Well, it doesn’t look like this guy can really hit,” but they’re always surprised. In December, when I fought Jesse James Leija, he told his corner after the first round, “This guy hits hard.” I knocked him out in the second round.
In February you also K.O.’d Darryl Hunter in the second round — and he too talked about how hard you hit. Do you think you’ll soon reach a point where boxing experts will have to rate you as the best fighter, pound for pound, in the world?
De La Hoya: It’s going to be a while before I get there, but I hope that will happen. Right now, I think Roy Jones, the middleweight champion, deserves the pound-for-pound title. He has speed, intelligence, and knocks out his opponents with combinations of punches. Jones isn’t a power puncher, so if he moves up in weight-which he’s talked about — it’ll be very difficult for him, because he’ll be facing fighters with a lot of power. He should stay a middleweight.
Pernell Whitaker and Felix Trinidad, both of whom you said would be tougher opponents than Chavez, are often touted for that pound-for-pound title. How do you rate them?
De La Hoya: Obviously, Whitaker doesn’t have power, and like Chavez, he has passed the peak of his career. He’s still fast and has been a great champion, but it’s now just a matter of time before somebody beats him. Trinidad, to me, is a complete fighter, although sometimes he leaves himself wide open.
Do you ever worry about getting seriously injured in the ring?
De La Hoya: I worry about it every single day. Every time I go into the gym or come out of the corner for a fight, I think about it. It scares me. Boxing is a very dangerous sport. Last year, when I fought Rafael Ruelas for the I.B.F. lightweight title, his brother Gabriel, who fought on the same card with us, defended his junior-lightweight title against Jimmy Garcia. That was a terrible thing.
You’re right about that — Garcia absorbed 300 punches during the fight, which was stopped in the eleventh round. While he was seated on a stool in his corner, he lapsed into unconsciousness and died 13 days later Did you see the fight?
De La Hoya: I saw tapes of it. I saw how Garcia got hit. What happened was that his family was involved — Jimmy Garcia’s father and brother were his trainers, and they were in his corner. It seemed to me as if Garcia wanted to quit, but his father and brother let him go out there because they thought he was the best, and they wanted him to succeed. There’s been I believe, about seven cases in boxing where there’s been death because families got involved in the corner.
Were you deeply affected by Garcias death?
De La Hoya: Yes, because I’m involved in the same sport, and almost the same weight division. I’m now a junior welterweight, a division in which the fighters are very energetic and in great shape. They throw a lot of punches — and I know that one punch and it can be all over. It worries me a lot.
In his next fight, Gabriel Ruelas was knocked out by Azumah Nelson — and afterward claimed that he’d seen Jimmy Garcia in the ring. What do you make of that?
De La Hoya: I think it’s going to be tough for Ruelas to stay in boxing. The love for the sport is not there for him anymore. It’s like in the back of his mind he’s thinking, “I might hit this guy and kill him.” Boxing won’t ever be the same for him.
Will it ever be the same for you?
De La Hoya: Well, I know I’m thinking about retirement now. With the money I’ve made from boxing, I can get away from it whenever I want, although I’d like to stay around until I accomplish what I’ve been aiming for.
And what is that?
De La Hoya: I’d like to win titles in six different weight classes. I’ve got two so far — junior lightweight and lightweight, and now I’m fighting at 140 pounds as a junior welterweight.
How long will you fight as a Junior welterweight?
De La Hoya: Only two or three times, and then I’ll move up to 147 pounds-welterweight. I think middleweight is where I want to end up, and I’ll be a strong middleweight. I’m five foot eleven, and I have the frame and the height to do it. I think, not pushing or rushing it, I’ll be a middleweight in two or three years.
If you’re as good as you — and most boxing experts — think, you might remain unbeaten for several years. How long do you intend to go on fighting?
De La Hoya: I know I’m going to retire early. I think that when I turn 25 or 26, Bob Arum and a lot of people in boxing are going to be very disappointed in me because that’s when I’m going to call it quits. I really don’t plan to stay in it for a long time. I think I’ve taken care of my family well and I’ve invested my money wisely. Boxing has been very good to me, but it isn’t everything to me. I have other passions in life.
Such as?
De La Hoya: I want to go back to school and study architecture. And I love golf — I’ve been playing for less than two years and I shoot 81 or 82. If I take that sport seriously, maybe I can become a good golfer. I can go up against Sugar Ray Leonard — on the golf course.
What got you interested in architecture?
De La Hoya: When I was young I used to draw all the time. There were no art classes in my junior high school, but there was a drafting class. I took it, and continued drafting for about five years. And then when I went to the ‘92 Olympics in Barcelona, I was really struck by the classic look of the old buildings and houses there. I was almost shocked by their beauty. Spanish-style houses — that’s the kind of architecture I really love. But the house that I’ll be building soon, probably in Newport Beach, is going to be a contemporary house. I like that style also. Anyway, I plan to go to junior college first, and then move on to U.C.L.A. When I become an architect I want to work hard and work my way up. I don’t want anything handed to me. I want to earn it.
Many of boxing’s great champions have found it hard to say good-bye to their sport. What makes you think it’s going to be easy for you to call it quits?
De La Hoya: I saw what happened to Muhammad Ali and Sugar Ray Leonard, and it’s happening to George Foreman. I think fighters miss the attention, the adrenaline rush, and the boxing itself. I know it won’t be easy for me to quit. But one thing about me: I try to learn from other boxers’ mistakes. Sugar Ray Leonard made mistakes; George Foreman made mistakes; Ali made mistakes. I met Ali a few years ago, and it was sad to me, because I was thinking about how I’m involved in the sport and if I don’t take care of myself, that can happen to me.
Have you figured out how you can get the same pleasure from something else that you do from boxing?
De La Hoya: Not really, but you have to remember that I know how dangerous boxing is. I think a knockout — a terrible fight for Foreman — would make him realize it’s time to leave. You have to know when to say when. I hope that doesn’t come out as me criticizing George, because he’s always been very nice to me and he gives me good advice.
Regarding what?
De La Hoya: A lot of things, including business. He once told me, “You’re the boss. Oscar — you call the shots. But always have that person around who can advise you. Have maybe three or four people who can advise you, and at the end, pick what you think is the best advice.” I followed George’s advice, and I know I won’t ever have to worry about money. George also told me, “Always stick with your family, because they’re always going to be there for you.” My mother died in 1990, but I still have my brother, my sister, and my father, and those are about the only people I trust.
What do you see yourself doing 20 years from now?
De La Hoya: I’ll be playing a lot of golf, and probably doing boxing commentary for a TV network. If I haven’t become an architect by then, I’ll probably still be going to school for it — I will become an architect. And I’ll be married, and my wife and I will still have children in the house.
If you have a son who wants to emulate his father and become a boxer, what advice will you give him?
De La Hoya: I will try to talk him out of it. Boxing is a very tough sport. To become a good world champion, you have to dedicate your life to boxing. I would try to introduce him to something else, probably golf. I’m going to make sure I have a little set of clubs for him when he turns three or four, and maybe my son will get hooked on it at that age. That would make me very happy.
Less than a decade after this interview, Oscar De La Hoya fournded Golden Boy, the first Latino-owned boxing promotions company. Father of six children with four different women, he appears to have attacked love much as he attacked opponents in the ring. Despites dad’s push to other options, though, it does appear at least one of the boys has been walking down the boxing path. At the very least, Devon De La Hoya has a highly qualified cheerleader in the wings.
