Boxer Victor Ortiz is starting to demand respect

Welterweight boxer Victor Ortiz is barely beginning his run of fame and fortune and already there’s a book title just waiting for him: “From Living in Trailers to Flying on Lear Jets.”

Ortiz is the current World Boxing Council champion, having knocked the title out of Andre Berto’s able hands in April. He is only 24, just beginning to prompt nods of recognition in the fancy suites at HBO and Showtime and is already in position to make a huge wave in the sport.

When he beat Berto, Ortiz seemed to become perfect fodder for Floyd Mayweather Jr.’s next step. Which is: 1) Get a decent warmup fight before actually taking on Manny Pacquiao; or 2) Get a comfortable-feeling fight that guarantees a nice payday and allows you to leave the impression that you actually want to fight Pacquiao.

So Ortiz and Mayweather Jr. will fight Sept. 17 in Las Vegas, and the boxing world will do what the boxing world always does — spend all its time talking about whether Pacquiao, finally, will be next. The thought that Ortiz actually might win will be little discussed.

The designated opponent in these matchups, in this case Ortiz, can react one of two ways. He can go through the phony promotional motions and dream of the fancy paycheck he will soon be able to see through swollen eyes. Or, he can get fighting mad about the lack of respect he is receiving.

The latter is Ortiz’s current stance, and it is especially irksome to him now, because he is the champion, not Mayweather. Yet Mayweather is not only an unbeaten legend, but also is holding the boxing world hostage as it remains hopeful of seeing the only true mega-fight currently possible.

It shouldn’t be hard to get Ortiz fighting mad. Until recently, life in general had taken care of that.

He is the middle son of Mexican immigrant parents. Dad was a truck driver and mom was a cook at a homeless shelter. He was born and raised in Garden City, Kan., with older sister Carmen and younger brother Temo. When he was 7, his mother, Manuela, left for another man. Six years later, his father, Victor, took off too.

“I can still remember it,” says Temo. “We came home from school one day and my mother was gone. That was it. Just gone.”

According to Temo, dad Victor would also be gone for weeks and months at a time, and eventually left for good when he was 11 and Victor Jr. was 13.

“I call my brother Junior,” Temo says, “but nobody else can or will.”

Dad, according to both Temo and Victor, was an alcoholic who beat them up frequently and stayed around long enough to introduce Victor to boxing.

“There was a kid named Lalo who beat up Victor pretty good,” Temo recalls. “That made my dad very angry, so he took Victor to the gym.”

Victor kept at it through more than 100 amateur fights. Carmen got pregnant when she was 15, but the three tried somehow to stay together, sometimes living in neighbors’ barns. They relied greatly on the parents of friends for food and shelter.

“It was scary,” Temo says. “You were always thinking about what was next, what was your next meal.”

Victor says, “I was like a stray dog.”

He says that sometimes, they would use crowbars to break into their old house, boarded up by Social Services.

“My parents also had an old trailer,” he says, “and we would go there, and try to break in. But it was 10-12 miles away. I’d just run up there, anyway.”

When he was 14, Victor got a job at Burger King and would call his brother and sister when leftovers were available.

“That saved us, many days,” Temo says.

Eventually, Victor Ortiz’s boxing skills were noted. He first moved to Denver, where Carmen lived and where a boxing opportunity presented itself.

“I cried when he said he was leaving,” Temo says. “He told me I’d be all right with the foster family and said he would come back to get me and be my guardian when he turned 18.”

That’s exactly what Victor Ortiz did.

Now, Temo runs a successful trucking business in Garden City, thanks to an initial investment from his brother. Carmen still lives in Denver, and Victor is on the verge of cashing checks with seven digits several times a year.

Temo decided recently to seek out his parents. The response he says he got from his mother was less than satisfying. It was worse from his father.

“I didn’t want much,” Temo says. “He never once said he was proud of me, of doing well in my business. It just breaks your heart.”

Temo talked Victor into trying. Same result.

“He spends his time trying to make you feel bad for him,” Victor says. “He’s pushing 70 and he’s just a bitter old man.”

There has been much more sweet than bitter for the possible future standard-bearer of boxing’s welterweight division. After Ortiz won his WBC title, he was honored by the governor of Kansas. And recently, during his travels to promote the Mayweather fight, he got a ride on a Lear jet. He loved it, but he didn’t forget his roots.

“They had a stewardess, serving us sandwiches,” he says. “When she got done, I offered to help her wash the dishes, but she wouldn’t let me.”

bill.dwyre@latimes.com