Boxing’s Local Hero : State Super Flyweight Champ Ricky Romero Seeks Wider Respect

As Ricky Romero worked the speed bag, a group of youngsters watched in awe. As he pranced in front of a wall of mirrors, would-be boxers followed his every move.

Romero, of Torrance, is used to such adulation. The California Super Flyweight champion is a legitimate local hero. What bothers him, however, is that the hero worship doesn’t extend much past the South Bay area.

And he is at a loss to explain why.

“Man, I’m getting jived around,” he said.

A sparring partner of 1984 Olympic light-flyweight gold medalist Paul Gonzales, Romero has twice defended his title, most recently on April 5 at Alpine Village with a unanimous decision over Jose Luis Herrera. He is 19-1 with eight knockouts, but he can barely crack the World Boxing Council Top 30.

He toils each day at the Fabela Chavez Boxing and Weightlifting Center, an unknown champion. Trainer Red Shannon said Romero is the Rodney Dangerfield of his weight class.

“He don’t get no respect at all,” Shannon said.

Romero has been ranked as high as 18th by the WBC. He has defeated two boxers ranked ahead of him, but the WBC currently ranks him 28th.

“Ricky deserves better. It has been very frustrating,” said WBC North American representative Dean Lohuis.

The North American Boxing Federation, a low-profile wing of the WBC, rates Romero No. 3. His only loss was a controversial split decision in March of 1989 to Jose Quirino, whom he later defeated to win his NABF state title.

Lohuis has lobbied for a higher ranking for Romero, but the WBC flyweight division is dominated by foreign fighters.

“Remember, we are a democratic, world body,” Lohuis said. “Ricky, being an American, is trying to break the mold.”

Lohuis said Romero’s management does not do enough to publicize its fighter.

“People aren’t aware of who Ricky Romero is,” Lohuis said. “These other guys are high profile. They play the publicity game. Just winning fights won’t do it.”

Boxing observers say Romero would fare well in international competition.

“Man, I can’t figure this out,” Shannon said. “They’ve got guys ahead of him that Ricky beat. They’ve got guys in there that shouldn’t be ranked. I don’t know if it is payola or what.”

Shannon and Romero give the appearance of a modern-day odd couple--a 70-year-old trainer and former boxer and his protege, who was born in Compton and grew up in the rough-and-tumble Tortilla Flats neighborhood of Torrance. Their bond is obvious.

“Red is my man,” Romero said.

Like Romero, Shannon was one of the finest young boxers to come out of L.A. in the 1930s. He was a regular at the old Main Street Gym. As a middleweight from 1939 to 1944 he was 37-13-11, but never won a title.

Shannon predicted in a Times story two years ago that Romero had the tools and discipline to accomplish what he didn’t: winning a title.

But manager Richard Viscusi of Houston wonders how much longer Romero will be able to hang on for a title shot. Unlike many fighters who are paid to train, Romero works full time in the mail room at Harbor-UCLA Medical Center. Romero’s biggest purse came last month at Alpine Village, where he said he grossed $3,000.

Said Viscusi: “Romero has the potential to be a world-class fighter, if not the champion. The kid deserves a break.”

Romero, who traveled the world with the U.S. boxing team, fought more than 130 amateur fights. But he had a poor showing at the Olympic Boxing trials in 1984 and failed to make the team. He quit and returned home.

“I was the elite of ’84 amateur boxing,” he said. “I traveled. I had fun. I saw the world. I had the good life.”

Back home, Romero discovered he missed boxing. “In the eyes of my friends I hadn’t failed, I wasn’t a loser,” he said. “But in my mind I kind of messed up.”

Romero also found that life outside the ring could be as dangerous as life in it. He doesn’t like to discuss it, but according to Shannon and others, Romero came close to losing his life in a gang rumble one night at a local park. He went to the park with some friends to drink beer and they were attacked by rival gang members. Several of his friends were injured.

Romero, recently married, got a job and returned to the gym. Chavez, who usually doesn’t allow professionals to train at the boxing center, made an exception. Shannon saw him shortly after he turned pro and liked Romero’s style. When the opportunity came to purchase his contract from Romero’s brother, Shannon seized the opportunity.

“Here’s a kid that’s good for boxing,” Shannon said. “He works. He is a clean liver. His fighting record is good.”

Lohuis suggested that Romero, a popular draw at South Bay venues, take his act on the road, a difficult move for a boxer with a full-time job. Previously, Romero had to turn down a fight because he was unable to get a leave of absence from his job.

A shortage of featherweight fighters in the United States has Lohuis thinking that Romero should challenge one of the half-dozen Mexican fighters ranked ahead of him by the WBC. Even a split-decision loss to an international boxer would help Lohuis convince the WBC that Romero is better than his ranking.

“He needs to make a deal with a big-time promoter,” Lohuis said. “He can beat these kids. He needs TV exposure. (His managers) should try to get him on ESPN.

“If he continues to fight in the smaller local events, he will be the great fighter that never got his shot.”

Romero can jab and move and has “beautiful footwork,” according to Shannon.

Against Herrera, who had 13 KOs in 18 bouts, Romero was able to land combination after combination.

“It was an impressive win,” Lohuis said.

Viscusi said Romero’s victory over Herrera puts “us in the position to try and move (Ricky) up.”

Part of the problem, Viscusi said, has been that “if you are a good fighter, you are somewhat shunned by other fighters just out of respect.”

In the meantime, Romero trains for an unknown future.

“I can’t quit now,” he said. “I’m driving to win. I have to prove I can win, that I can make it.”