Have No Fear, Julio Cesar Is Here

On the eve of the most important fight of his life, a pug is supposed to be this kind of guy: aloof, brooding, irritable, irascible, like a wounded and angry lion, testy, quick to take offense, surrounding himself with a kind of menacing hostility, a general sulking in his tent while concentrating on the battle on the morrow.

Now, get a load of Julio Cesar Chavez. With 48 hours to go to post time, this warrior is as loose as ashes, joking with the press, bantering with the promoters, waving to the crowd. He is like a kid with a new balloon. Hasn’t a care in the world. He cracks wise in two languages, laughs a lot. You’d think he was on his way to Disneyland. What, me worry? Gidouddahere!

Worried about Oscar De La Hoya, his opponent tonight? The new Golden Boy?

Julio grins wickedly.

“I fought him in the gym once a few years ago [1989],” he says. “I knocked him down.”

Next question.

You get the feeling that Chavez still regards De La Hoya as that fresh kid who dared to put the gloves on with him. A young man who should be taught a lesson. He should know better. Don’t they teach respect for your elders anymore?

Julio Cesar Chavez is spotting young De La Hoya several years in age, several inches in reach and a few steps in speed. But what else is new? Chavez has had 99 fights and in almost all of them was facing opponents who were bigger, taller, faster and longer-armed. No problem. Julio is 97-1-1. Match that around the fight game.

Chavez has been that successful even though he doesn’t depend on any of the refinements of the fight game, like jabbing and clinching, slipping punches, backpedaling. He has one speed--forward. Get out of my way, sucker.

Chavez, as someone once said of Rocky Marciano, “fights you three minutes of every round and throws rocks.” Roberto Duran’s nickname was “Fists of stone.” Well, Julio’s may be of diamonds. Like Marciano, wherever he hits you, you hemorrhage.

He throws the most punches in a fight since the great Hammering Henry Armstrong, who, although really a featherweight, once held three titles at once, clear to welterweight, because he came out of the dressing room throwing punches and never stopped. Neither does Chavez. He is, like Armstrong, as unstoppable as a glacier.

The other thing Chavez is, is utterly fearless. He’s a throwback. That is to say, he goes back to the guys who fought lions if they had to.

It’s not that Chavez doesn’t respect his opponent. He just doesn’t fear him. Julio would figure King Kong might be a sucker for a body shot.

He might be the best fighter ever to come out of Mexico. No, make that he is the best fighter ever to come out of Mexico. People who remember Mexican Joe Rivers and Pancho Villa--the boxer, not the general--may dispute it, but not anyone in this generation.

Chavez doesn’t ask much of life. He came up a long, hardscrabble way from the mean streets of Culiacan and took two rather smallish fists but a giant heart to the top of the cruelest profession. He progressed nosebleed by nosebleed to international fame.

He fights a young man who came out of the barrio of East Los Angeles to become that athletic icon, an Olympic gold medal winner. Chavez couldn’t be bothered fighting for medals. He needed money. He has never been an amateur anything. Julio takes the position that De La Hoya probably slept in sheets most of his life and never had to wonder where his next meal was coming from.

If he has a fault, Chavez may be too lighthearted for his own good. Between fights, once he had reached the big time, he was known to hit the cerveza instead of the heavy bag. Some fighters open bars, Julio closed them. But he supposedly corked the bottle months ago.

But make no mistake abut it, jaunty Julio is the spice in this olio. At the last prefight news conference Wednesday, outside the arena at Caesars Palace, a curious thing happened: When Chavez, who was on first, left, so did most of the crowd.

Promoter Bob Arum is projecting a $73-million gross gate for this fight and most of the fans will be paying to see if Chavez can tarnish De La Hoya’s Golden Boy image.

“It will be the biggest fight in Far Western history,” predicts Arum. “Let’s face it, other fights had a bigger stake in Eastern support. Not this one.”

Since both fighters will make about $9 million, the only thing at stake is pride. But Chavez bristles at the notion he has anything to prove.

“This will be my 100th fight,” he says. “Who haven’t I fought? Who has he fought?”

Well, he’s fought Paris Alexander, Troy Dorsey and Frank Avelar, to name a few. We know one thing: They should not leave home without their American Express cards.

Every fight has elements of a morality play about it and this is no exception. Oscar is the bad guy, Julio the one in the white hat. But it’s not so much good against evil as privilege against poverty. Chavez comes into view as the working stiff, the blue-collar fighter, the guy from the fields. They even booed De La Hoya at the weigh-in at Caesars on Thursday. If Chavez wins tonight, they may want to cut off the ears to give him.

So, it will be the elegant Oscar against the rowdy Julio tonight. Maybe even the beauty and the beast. Classic melodrama.

Who will prevail? Some people think De La Hoya will feel as if he has been locked in a closet with a leopard by the second round. Others think Chavez will spend the night wondering where Oscar went and aiming punches at places Oscar just left.

But you’ll have no trouble identifying them. Julio will be the one entering the ring looking as if he has just heard this wonderful joke. Then, he’ll set out to make Oscar the butt of it. Not only enter but exit laughing.

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THE FACTS

Who: Julio Cesar Chavez (champion) vs. Oscar De La Hoya (challenger).

What: World Boxing Council super-lightweight title.

When: Tonight, 8:30 (approximately).

Where: Caesars Palace, Las Vegas.

TV: Closed-circuit only. See TV-Radio column, C2.

Radio: Round-by-round reports, KNX (1070).