East L.A. Boxer Punches Out a Gold Medal Win

In a Chinese restaurant a block from the Olympic boxing venue, Oscar De La Hoya, seated at a table for 20, was tapped on the shoulder.

It was a young girl with a white cap, and she asked De La Hoya to sign it.

He signed his name on the bill of the cap with a black felt pen, started to hand it back, then remembered something and continued writing.

After his name, he wrote: “--Olympic Champion.”

Barely three hours before, De La Hoya, of East Los Angeles, won the only U.S. boxing gold medal of the 1992 Games by punching out a 7-2 decision victory over Marco Rudolph of Germany in the final of the 132-pound class.

He had dedicated the medal to his late mother and in the awards ceremony that followed the bout almost cried--then regained his composure.

Before Cecilia De La Hoya died of breast cancer in October, 1990, Oscar had promised her that he would win a gold medal at Barcelona.

And as “The Star-Spangled Banner” was being played Saturday, De La Hoya said later, “I was afraid I might start to cry. But then I figured my mom would say: ‘Don’t cry, be happy--you won the gold medal.’

“Then I realized she wasn’t there to hug me, and I started feeling sad all over again.”

Now, among his family and friends at the restaurant, De La Hoya picked at his lemon chicken, kept grinning, and kept looking down at his gold medal.

“It hasn’t sunk in yet,” he said, quietly. “I don’t think it will for several days, that I actually did it--that’s it’s all over. Maybe it’ll hit me when I get home.”

He shoved another piece of lemon chicken around on his plate.

“I’m just not hungry,” he said. “I usually am, after I fight. I don’t know what it is.”

Seated around him were various members of the most powerful family in boxing, the Duvas of New Jersey; the former lightweight champion of the world, Pernell Whitaker; De La Hoya’s father, Joel; his sisters; his cousins, and several reporters.

Restaurante Chino is where Olympic boxing medalists go to celebrate this weekend.

On the other side of the dining room, at another table for 20, a series of toasts were being made to the Thai bronze medalist in the welterweight class, Arkom Chenglai. He stood, displaying his medal, and all of the diners applauded.

De La Hoya, when he entered, had also received loud applause from the Thais and just about everyone else in the restaurant.

Someone reminded him that he didn’t have to make weight any more in the Olympics, that he won’t turn pro for months yet, that it really was OK to dig in. Someone offered a plate of chicken and green peppers.

“Nah . . . I’m just not hungry,” he said, and put the fork down. “You know, I’m thinking of turning pro at 130 pounds instead of lightweight (135). In five weigh-ins at this tournament, I weighed 128 three times--132 is the maximum for lightweights in amateur boxing--and 131 twice. I was 131 this morning.”

He fingered his medal again, inspecting it closely, as if looking for fine print.

“I still can’t believe it,” he said.

Perhaps he couldn’t grasp the fact that he had been, for the past several hours, a former amateur boxer.

Maybe he had flashbacks to the long, hard workouts over the years at the Resurrection gym on South Lorena Street in East L.A., or at the Brooklyn Gym in Boyle Heights, across the street from White Memorial Hospital.

Or maybe of the years when his dad brought him to Resurrection gym, signing the skinny 8-year-old up for PeeWee boxing tournaments.

Perhaps the years of Junior Olympic competition flitted through his memory, back to 1988, when he won his first national championship, the 119-pound Junior Olympic title.

Then came the two national championships and a string of 36 consecutive victories in international competition before Marco Rudolph upset him in the World Championships last November at Sydney, Australia--the same Marco Rudolph on whom he turned the tables Saturday, avenging his only defeat.

Naturally, it was boxing promoter Dan Duva and his brother, Lou, who played the hosts for De La Hoya’s first meal as an Olympic gold medalist.

Before their party entered the restaurant, Lou Duva, the jowly, acid-tongued 73-year-old curmudgeon who trains heavyweight champion Evander Holyfield, talked about the young fighter’s future in the pro ranks. “This kid has talent no one has seen yet,” Lou Duva said.

Shelly Finkel, who manages Holyfield, Whitaker and Meldrick Taylor, said he’s already considering a prime date for De La Hoya’s pro debut.

“I’m thinking about the undercard of the Nov. 13 Holyfield-(Riddick) Bowe fight, but that might be a little too soon,” Finkel said.

“Above all, I want Oscar to go home and get a lot of rest.”

De La Hoya was asked if it was all worth it, the years of toil and the postponement of his pro career.

“If someone asked me for my advice, I’d tell them to stay focused, not to let anything get into your head, to take one fight at a time. But I’d tell him to understand all the way that to win a gold medal in the Olympics, you have to be very lucky besides being very good.”

He was referring to inconsistent judging and refereeing in the tournament, ranging in De La Hoya’s case from a referee who refused to disqualify a South Korean opponent to judges who wouldn’t score his sizzling left jabs as scoring blows, and to Saturday’s judges, who wouldn’t score much of anything.