Oscar Still Welter Belter

The Golden Boy became a man Saturday night, grew up right in front of our eyes, Oscar De La Hoya did.

Yes, he won the fight at the Thomas & Mack Center over Ike Quartey.

But that almost took secondary importance to the way he won it. In the 12th and final round, when the outcome was still very much in doubt on the three judges’ cards and no doubt in his mind, De La Hoya didn’t play it safe. He didn’t count on his status, officially, as the World Boxing Council welterweight champion or, unofficially, as boxing’s brightest light to win it for him.

This was no time to rest on his reputation. Or to rest at all.

Instead, he walked into the belly of the beast. He ignored Quartey’s powerful punch, the short, quick jab that had hurt De La Hoya time after time, virtually closing his left eye from the eighth round on, and the hook that had knocked him off his feet in the sixth round. He chased Quartey into his own corner and pummeled him with rights and lefts.

De La Hoya had nothing left to give after that, becoming a spent fighter who could barely lift his arms merely trying to survive the final minute and a half. But the damage had been done. When the decisive round ended, De La Hoya had thrown 41 punches to 18 for Quartey. Chicken indeed.

That was the round that separated the man from the Golden Boy, and all three judges awarded him the final round. That was enough for him to win the fight on two of their cards, a split decision that gave him a 30-0 record.

It should also have given him the respect of even his most vitriolic critics, the ones who have persisted during his seven years as a professional in calling him Chicken De La Hoya. Although some no doubt will still find flaws with his performance Saturday night, at least none can say that he hasn’t fought a truly dangerous opponent.

He has now.

De La Hoya thought that Quartey, despite a 34-0-1 record entering the fight, might be a perfect match for him. “This is the first true test of my boxing career,” De La Hoya said last week.

But he added that Quartey “is a heavy hitter with a straight-ahead style that will bring out the best in me.”

De La Hoya probably thought otherwise after Quartey tagged him with a hard jab in the second round, and, for the next few rounds, the champion didn’t appear as if he wanted to challenge. But when it became obvious that he couldn’t win unless he did, he was up to it, knocking Quartey down twice.

One of the first questions De La Hoya was asked after the fight was about a rematch.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “There are bigger and better fights out there.”

Immediately after this fight, which ring announcer Michael Buffer called “the best welterweight fight in Las Vegas since Sugar Ray Leonard and Thomas Hearns in 1981,” that didn’t seem likely. But it’s possible. We’ve seen it before.

You couldn’t turn around here last week without bumping into Leonard or Hearns. It was promoter Bob Arum’s idea to have them here, to create the illusion that Saturday night’s fight was the beginning of another golden era in the welterweight division.

Or maybe it wasn’t an illusion. Maybe this fight will lead to a series among the best the division has to offer, De La Hoya, Quartey, Felix Trinidad and Pernell Whitaker, that will rival the one in the ‘80s involving Leonard, Hearns, Roberto Duran and Marvin Hagler.

But even if you are still not ready to buy into the historical significance, and you are not alone gauging by the number of empty seats inside Thomas & Mack, it was the most anticipated fight outside of the heavyweight division in years, if only because it seemed like the first time De La Hoya, 26, entered the ring with a chance to lose.

No one was more aware of that than De La Hoya.

Instead of adhering to one of boxing’s oldest traditions and boasting about how quickly he would dispense of Quartey, De La Hoya spoke last week about the possibility of losing. Such introspection surely was not recommended by his trainers.

“I’ve got to think about losing,” De La Hoya insisted. “I’m human. I have to prepare myself to lose one day. If I get hurt, I know what to do. I’ll go down to one knee.”

He paused to consider the consequences.

“Let’s say I do lose,” he said. “Will I lose the fans too? Are they supporting me because I’m a winner? Because of my personality? Because they like me? Let’s see what happens.”

It was a soliloquy with Shakespearean overtones. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.

It almost turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy. But that didn’t happen because De La Hoya wouldn’t allow it to happen.

Instead of Henry IV, he became Sugar Ray III.

Randy Harvey can be reached at his e-mail address: randy.harvey@latimes.com.