No Mountain Retreat : In the Small Town of Big Bear, Neither Oscar De La Hoya Nor Rafael Ruelas Is Willing to Give an Inch

Of all the gym joints in the world, they had to walk into this one.

Oscar De La Hoya and Rafael Ruelas, former co-tenants turned bitter rivals, train for their May 6 showdown and Los Angeles lightweight supremacy in a tiny, gossipy resort town where there are few secrets among the 14,000 residents.

“I heard a rumor that someone tried to pick a fight with Oscar down at Slick’s,” Brad Sullivan, executive director of the Big Bear Chamber of Commerce, said. “Some cowboy.”

Before they meet in the ring at Caesars Palace, De La Hoya and Ruelas must first settle this matter of “King of the Mountain.”

While out for his morning training runs this week, De La Hoya twice crossed paths on Moonridge Drive with Rafael’s brother, Gabriel, who is defending his junior-lightweight title on the May 6 undercard.

Neither man gave quarter.

Rafael and Oscar have managed to avoid each other in town, mostly because Ruelas has sequestered himself like a monk in a rented house.

Yet, just up the block, no more than 500 yards from Camp Ruelas, construction continues on De La Hoya’s dream house-gymnasium, which was not far enough along to use for this fight.

Ruelas still doesn’t know De La Hoya is moving into the neighborhood. And until this week, the De La Hoya camp had no clue the Golden Boy’s new home was situated so close to the enemy.

One Ruelas camp member tried to picture the look on Rafael’s face on the day De La Hoya knocks on the front door to borrow a cup of sugar.

“I’m not here to avoid him,” Rafael said this week. “This is no different than any other camp. I go to work out. I run. I take the same trail I always take. I go to the store like I normally do. I have no problem with it. My trail is my trail.”

Imagine Joe Frazier and Muhammad Ali training together on Catalina Island.

For years, De La Hoya and Ruelas coexisted peacefully in the resort community.

In fact, De La Hoya and the Ruelases had shared the same Big Bear gymnasium for the last three years.

The gym is operated by Larry Goossen, brother of Joe, who trains Gabe and Rafael.

Although Larry Goossen is unabashedly partisan, he said he never played favorites when it came to business. De La Hoya had the gym from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m., the Ruelases from 3 o’clock on.

As the Ruelas-De La Hoya bout drew closer to reality, however, tensions mounted.

Steve Perez, one of Goossen’s assistants, was assigned the task of making sure De La Hoya was out of the gym before the Ruelases arrived.

“I was like a traffic cop,” Perez said.

An inevitable rift surfaced last January, when De La Hoya told The Times that he was being overcharged by Goossen.

“(Larry) would charge other fighters like $120 a month, but would charge us maybe $2,000-$3,000 a month,” De La Hoya said. “It’s not right, just because we’re rivals and just because we’re making that much money. They shouldn’t be taking advantage of that.”

Larry Goossen was outraged when he read the comments. He ordered an assistant to call Robert Alcazar, De La Hoya’s trainer, and tell him he was giving Golden Boy the golden boot.

Before the order went into effect, though, Goossen was talked off the ledge in an 11:30 p.m. phone call from Bob Arum, promoter for De La Hoya and Ruelas.

Goossen said he played no favorites when it came to rent, that De La Hoya paid $2,000 a month and the Ruelas brothers a total of $4,000.

“I was ticked,” Goossen said of De La Hoya. “I liked the kid, always have. I just don’t know what went wrong. He’s known all along I’ve known those (Ruelas) kids since they were little. Of course I’m going to root for them. But I’m not going to give them a better deal because I know them.”

The day after De La Hoya’s comments appeared in print, Goossen waited for him outside the gym, grabbed the fighter by the jacket and shoved the newspaper article in his face.

“What the hell is this?” he asked De La Hoya.

Goossen said De La Hoya first denied making the statements, then admitted to them, claiming it was all “part of the game.”

A week later, according to Goossen, De La Hoya apologized.

It was obvious, though, that the gym wasn’t big enough for both of them.

Goossen said he offered De La Hoya use of his gym for the Ruelas fight but De La Hoya left and has been working out for his biggest fight in a converted karate studio.

It marks the first time as a professional that De La Hoya has not trained in Goossen’s gym.

Said Goossen, “I asked Oscar, ‘What would you do if your brother was running the place? Wouldn’t you expect them to take care of you? This is my family. These are my kids.’ ”

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John Emig, editor of the town paper, the Grizzly, isn’t sure what impact the fighters are having in town. He refers to Big Bear’s small Latino population as “a hidden community.”

As more boxers choose the 7,000-foot altitude of Big Bear to train, however, Emig said the paper has “picked up on the interest,” and is hoping to get a credential to cover the May 6 fight at Caesars Palace.

Luckily for Big Bear, perhaps, De La Hoya and Ruelas have different lifestyles and rarely frequent the same establishments.

Mirroring their personalities, De La Hoya has played the part of “Golden Boy,” whereas Ruelas has been “The Quiet Man.”

De La Hoya leaves calling cards all over town. He has breakfast at Thelma’s almost daily, where he orders Polish sausage and eggs.

“He’s a real nice guy, friendly,” said Susie Algeo, a waitress. “He reads his paper, has breakfast. If anyone comes up for an autograph, he gives it to them.”

Algeo says she is not a sports fan but will watch the fight, “just because of Oscar.”

Between workouts, the World Boxing Organization champion and aspiring golfer has squeezed in rounds at the nine-hole public course adjacent to the Bear Mountain ski resort.

De La Hoya’s favorite hangout is Slick’s Mountain Sports Pub, where he likes to relax and shoot pool.

Ruelas, on the other hand, rarely leaves home, other than to train.

Both fighters shop at the same drug and discount store, but have never been in at the same time.

“Whatever they want, they get full service,” said Roy Olguin, the store’s manager. “They like it here. People don’t bother them. It’s a nice quiet town. People give them their space.”

De La Hoya might check his receipts if he knew Olguin was a die-hard Ruelas fan and a friend of Larry Goossen.

Ruelas, conversely, has sought the quiet comforts of home and the simple life he knew as a boy growing up fast and dirt-poor on a ranch in Jalisco, Mexico.

One day recently, while Rafael and Gabriel were shopping at the local supermarket, 17-year-old Jeanette Cruz approached for an autograph.

Cruz mentioned that her mother, who moved to the United States from Mexico in 1974, cooks authentic Mexican meals. She invited the brothers over to dinner, never thinking they’d accept.

The Ruelases ate at the Cruz house every night for a week, feasting on such favorites as Mexican chicken soup, chile rellenos and enchiladas.

Julia Cruz, 43-year-old mother of 10, drove down the mountain to San Bernardino to buy the right kinds of chiles.

The Ruelases paid for their meals, and spent relaxing evenings talking with the family, which moved to the area three years ago, after 69-year-old Nicholas Cruz retired from a long career in the dry-cleaning business in Mexico and Los Angeles.

The Cruz youngsters collected autographs and posed for pictures with their heroes, to look at next week when the Ruelases are gone and it all might have seemed a dream.

Seth Cruz, 19, admitted he had a $100 bet with a friend that Ruelas was going to beat De La Hoya.

Cruz had met both fighters.

“I got along better with Ruelas,” Cruz said. “Oscar looks at you like he’s too big for you. Rafael talks to you like you’re normal.”