Unlike other kids who may have started boxing at a young age, Chico was left to deal with the stark realities of the intercity and an unstable homelife, including an abusive father, who eventually ended up in prison. He grew up in East Los Angeles and had to navigate life in the Boyle Heights neighborhood, dealing with the harsh realities of everyday crime, poverty, drugs, and gangs. He had been shot and stabbed, ran with a gang, somehow survived and has the scars to prove it. If ever there was a boxer’s story being written, this one follows an all too familiar script. According to Heiskanen, in the book, “The Urban Geography of Boxing, “...the greatest number of fighters have come from the ranks of the most impoverished segments of society”(2). At the very least, boxing has traditionally been considered to firmly reside within the ranks of the working class.
At the age of 18, his grandfather saw him get into a fight and he “knock out some gangster with one punch”, according to Chico, and told him he should be boxing and to go to a boxing gym in Downtown LA. There, he found himself training with Al Stankie, whose wife Panchita would wrap his hands. After a while, it became difficult to get to the downtown gym. But something about boxing had begun to resonate with him. By now he was living in Commerce with his grandfather, so he wandered into the Commerce Boxing Gym in Bristow Park. It was here that he met his boxing trainer and mentor, Alfonso Marquez, whom he would develop an almost father-son like relationship with–something he was sorely missing as he grew up. It was also there he started his amateur career with Alfonso, and over the course of several years, he fought 32 bouts, with 17 wins, 4 by knockout (KO) and 2 by TKO, with 15 losses, 0 by KO. Boxing served to pull him away from the streets and gangs and once he started training, he never looked back. Eventually, his grandfather sold the house and moved to Arizona, and not having anywhere else to go, he went with him. He then received a fateful call from his trainer, he had a sponsor for Chico and wanted him to come back and turn pro.
And so began his professional career, on August 19, 2011, fighting at the Convention Center in Riverside. His opponent, Andrew Ibarra, was also making his pro debut, but it was Chico that won by TKO. It was Andrew’s first and only fight. Chico would next appear on a Golden Boy fight card at Fantasy Springs Casino in December of 2011. It ended in a draw, so did the next fight, another Golden Boy event, this time at the Hard Rock in Las Vegas, on the undercard that featured Jesse Vargas in the main event. He would accumulate 5 losses after that before he would land another pair of wins. He told me that after his first loss, he never fought out of the “A” corner again.
And so his career went, some losses, an occasional win or two, maybe a draw, but he never got stopped, he never got knocked out! If he got knocked down, he always got back up in time to continue. Two of his wins were against undefeated fighters, one with a record of 8-0, the other 7-0, all 3 of his draws were against undefeated fighters, 4 if you include a debut opponent. He fought frequently because fighting meant he could make some money. He wasn’t afraid to face anyone, nor to lose, a trait that perhaps his tough upbringing helped to instill. Several familiar names that stood out to me included: Giovanni Santillan who won by UD at the Texas Station Casino in 2012 (Santillan won a fight against Alexis Rocha at The Forum in October 2023), and Elvis Rodriguez, then 2-0-0, who Chico fought to a draw at Pechanga Casino in 2019. Chico’s last fight was in November 2019. His record stands at 9 wins-19 losses-4 draws, 2 wins by KO, 0 losses by KO. Chico was a journeyman fighter, a title one doesn’t seek but that one that may nevetheless be earn by an unfortunate career trajectory.
You can run but you can’t hide, boxing had provided an alternative to what he experienced growing up in the barrio, providing him a sense of identity, belonging, kind of a pseudo family or fellowship, and a few dollars as well. But having a child, then a relationship gone sour, a need for income, including the unfortunate death of this trainer, Alfonso in 2019, all led him to seek an escape from years of functioning in survival mode. Somehow, he made his way up to Northern California. There, he found both solitude and a job in a sparsely populated area working at a farm in an area known for its Redwood forests and, since its legalization, a home to open marijuana cultivation. The nearest town had a population of only 1,500. He hadn’t quit boxing, he was merely taking a break from his life and intended to eventually return, both to “civilization" and to boxing.
After several years of relative seclusion, the quietness grew too loud and he was ready to start rebuilding his life, seemingly from stratch. He found his way back to Las Vegas, a place he had previously lived and trained for several years. According to Chico, he used to work out at Feroz Fight Factory, had been close to the Vargas family including the young Vargas boys, Emi, Amado, and Fernando Jr, but things had changed over the years. The three boys are all grown up and have careers as pro boxers. Chico says they no longer talk. He works in the service industry, takes a bus for up to an hour to get there, but doesn’t complain. He hopes to one day have a car, but first things first. Somehow, while his life and boxing career might be viewed as less than idyllic by most, it is a long way from the streets that he came from, and boxing was the means by which he found a way out. The alternative, gang life, drug addiction, prison, or death, are all real possibilities that others from East Los Angeles have sometimes failed to survive.
There are many ways to measure success in life, in this case, money or an impressive fight record may not be the most important thing, not for everyone. At the very least, Chico had earned the reputation as a tough journeyman fighter who was very likely going to go the distance, would test his opponent, and if they were distracted for a moment, one could possibly see an upset in the making. For eight years he climbed into the ring for a total 32 professional bouts, the kid from Boyle Heights who only started boxing at 18, turned pro at 23, never officially retired but has otherwise been inactive for 4 years. I am not completely convinced that the story ends here, there is always the possibility that Chico might climb back through the ropes at least one more time just because at the core of his identity he is still a fighter and that’s what fighters do.
Note:
A journeyman is a title or status used in boxing to describe a fighter who has abilities though maybe not the best, but they may be nevertheless tough. Their record may be mixed or just plain upside down, with far more losses than wins. Their hope for a title shot, to be signed by a promoter and fight out of the “A” corner is undoubtedly long gone, though I have met a few who had hope of rehabilitating their record and getting back on the winning track, maybe bolstered by a recent upset victory. Various reasons may keep one in the game even when the odds are near impossible to change their destiny. One may be financial, another is simply their identity as a pro and the desire to fight, even if it is only in the “B” corner. The identity as a professional boxer may transcend the length and success of their career, itself being a source of pride, even if their record on paper isn’t particularly impressive. I have sat ringside next to people who told me they had been a fighter, and several volunteered that they were, “only a journeyman.” Some journeymen gain a reputation for being very tough and sly, denying their opponent a quick and easy win, testing them and taking them to the distance, and even occasionally, pulling off that upset win. Its a dirty job but somebody has got to do it.
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