It’s Not Exactly Nice to Beat Great Ones

There are certain things you’re not meant to do in this life. Paint a mustache on the Mona Lisa, for example. Scratch a match on the statue of Venus de Milo. Throw a brick through a Rembrandt.

People don’t like it when you trifle with their works of art, bring down their icons.

In the same way, it’s not always advisable to mess with their sports idols, either. The guy who struck out Babe Ruth with the bases loaded was nobody’s hero. Neither was the guy who tackled Red Grange behind the line of scrimmage.

And, if you’re a pugilist, there are inexcusables. You wonder how many times Tunney might have regretted that it was Dempsey he had to take the title from. Beating Joe Louis was not the smartest thing Ezzard Charles had ever done. Larry Holmes won no friends beating Muhammad Ali.

So, Oscar De La Hoya could have beaten a dozen guys and set off dancing in the street, drawn claps on the back. But beating Julio Cesar Chavez was not one of them. Beating Chavez was not that great an idea.

Chavez was popular with the masses in two hemispheres. They loved him from Olivera Street to the Paseo de la Reforma to Patagonia. When he fought Greg Haugen in 1993 in Mexico City, 136,274 showed up to cheer, the largest live gate in the history of boxing. When he fought Pernell Whitaker in the Alamodome in San Antonio, 63,000 attended.

To be sure, De La Hoya had his own constituency. He was the only U.S. gold-medal winner in Olympic boxing at Barcelona in ‘92, the new “Golden Boy” of the sport. Gifted, handsome, educated, he had his fan clubs. But it was more of a cult compared to Chavez’s adoring masses.

When he stopped Chavez in four rounds, many in the crowd--and watching on television--reacted as if they had caught De La Hoya robbing poor boxes or tying cans to dogs’ tails. People didn’t exactly cross the street when they saw him coming but there was a distinct chill in the air in East Los Angeles.

Actually, a curious reality emerges. Julio Cesar Chavez had never lost a fight--his record was 89-0--when he climbed in the ring in 1993 for the sold-out Alamodome fight with Whitaker, the World Boxing Council’s welterweight champion.

So, it was Whitaker who broke Chavez’s winning streak. The fight, officially, was a draw. But in the view of most aficionados, Whitaker won it--rather easily. It is certain that the draw was the best decision Chavez could have gotten.

But the catch was, Whitaker was not a product of the barrios. He was not a landsman. He was, therefore, not resented in the same way Oscar was. There were elements of Cain and Abel in De La Hoya’s beating Chavez. Better he had got caught throwing spitballs at a statue of Benito Juarez. It was near treason.

Besides, Oscar didn’t fight a draw with Julio Cesar. He broke his nose, cut his eye, knocked him around the ring and stopped him in four. He humiliated him.

The interesting thing about the De La Hoya-Pernell Whitaker bout Saturday at the Thomas & Mack Center here is that, in a funny way, the ghostly presence of Chavez will be hovering over the activities.

De La Hoya will get a chance to make it up to him--by beating the man who first knocked the Chavez legend sideways.

Conversely, Whitaker can validate his own tarnished “triumph” over Chavez by beating the man who beat Chavez decisively.

It’s not always that you get a chance to make up for your big mistakes. Even though Oscar said after the fight, “It was a great honor to be in the same ring with Julio Cesar. He was my hero. I have admired him all my life,” and even though he delivered half his press conference here Wednesday in the language of his ancestors, Spanish, nobody was mollified.

Chavez’s fans may not know whom to root for Saturday.

De La Hoya will be a 3 1/2-1 favorite. But if he can beat Whitaker, he will win more than Pernell’s WBC welterweight championship. He will win the forgiveness of the legions of fans who see him only as the upstart who took all those liberties with the great Julio Cesar Chavez.

If he beats Whitaker, he can then echo the quote of Brutus after he had killed his own Julius Caesar and then was taking his own life: “Caesar, thou be still. I killed not thee with half so good a will.”

If Oscar destroys Whitaker, he can say to his Cesar, “Julio Cesar, thou be still. I kayoed not thee with half so good a will.”

The slate will be clean.

Of course, if the best Oscar can do against Whitaker is a draw, the book will hardly be closed and Oscar will still occupy the same place in history as the man who shot Jesse James--and the man who stabbed Julius Caesar.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

WHITAKER VS. DE LA HOYA

WHEN: Saturday at Las Vegas

ADDITIONAL COVERAGE: C8