Monday, November 21, 2011

Junior Golden Gloves Finals 1965

Wrapping the hands of one of my junior fighters, Romulo "Boy" Ventura, facing the camera is Frankie Baltazar; the little guy is Tony "The Tiger" Baltazar. 1965

By KiKi

I had Romulo "Boy" Ventura fighting Andy "The Hawk" Price in the open division of the 1965 Junior Golden Gloves finals at the Valley Garden Arena. Both were around 12 years old at the time. Andy entered the ring first; we then made our way to the ring, and once on the ring apron, Boy turned around and waved to his family and to the crowd; he then put one leg over the bottom rope to enter the ring, and that's when he saw "The Hawk" shadow boxing and looking like a miniature Sugar Ray Robinson, Romulo then turned around and looked me in the eye and said to me "I don't feel like fighting tonight after all."

I gave Romulo a shove into the ring and told him, "he looks pretty, but can he fight?" Romulo fought a great fight that night, giving Andy a good scrap before losing by a decision.

Romulo never fought again, and Andy had a stellar pro career.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Tecate, B.C. Mexico

                                       
                                              Mando and the late Gene Moreno
                                   
By kiki



I discovered Tecate, a beer-brewing border town that sits high up in the mountains of B.C. Mexico. Circa 1978. I had a guy, Tony, working for me; one day, he asked me for a week off; I asked him why he needed a week off. He told me that he was getting married; I said," okay, and you are not going to invite your boss to your wedding?" he said that I wouldn't go if he did because he was getting married in Tecate, a small mountain town just across the border. I did get an invite. My wife, Connie, and I, with some friends, John and Bea Martinez, went to Tecate for the wedding, and we fell in love with the small town.


                                                Tony and his bride

We used to ride Harleys then and started going to Tecate for weekends with friends. In April of 1993, I retired, and around the same time, the company Connie had worked for the last 30 years was moving to Tijuana, B.C., and she was offered a chance to go with the company. Connie accepted their offer when the company offered to provide a rental allowance for us in the San Diego area and moved south to Bonita, Ca. While living in Bonita, we would ride the Harley to Tecate on summer weekends for tacos and a beer or two.


                                                     Da Beer

In December 1995, my brother, Mando, and his wife, Pat, with some friends, came to our house in Bonita on a Friday night; we went to the Tijuana Toy Run the following morning. After coffee that next day, we headed out on our toy-loaded Harleys to Chula Vista Harley-Davidson, where the run would start. Then, after more coffee, we queued and were ready to start our California Highway Patrol escorted ride to the border. We were met by the Tijuana Police at the border, who escorted us to the main drag in Tijuana's Avenida RevoluciĆ³n. There the toys were dispersed among the kids of the Tijuana barrios.

                                                             Tony Barron


After we passed out the toys decided to ride to Tecate for a beer or two. We rode 30 or so miles, and as we were approaching the outskirts of Tecate, we were pulled over by a Tecate motorcycle cop. He asked us what we would do in Tecate; we told him we would look for a place to have dinner and a beer or two. Then, he asked, "a bar?" Of course, "si," we all said in unison; he told us, "follow me," so we followed. He paraded us down the main drag with his red and blue lights flashing to an alley with a restaurant/bar. We offered to buy him a beer; he said no, that he couldn't drink while on duty, but that he would keep an eye on our parked Harleys.

                                        Mando's wife, Pat, is about to start crying.

 
We sat in the restaurant's bar area for an early dinner; as we were having dinner, two old guys (late' 70s) with guitars approached our table and asked if we would like them to play and sing Mexican songs for us for American dollars, of course. Mando asked them to sing Jimi Hendrix's 'Hey Joe' they looked at each other and said they knew 'Aye Jose' but not "Hey Joe" After singing a few songs for us that we requested, they moved on.

After having dinner and polishing off a few Tecates, we left the restaurant and found the cop still watching our bikes. Each one of us guys gave him five bucks for his help.

We got back to the house in Bonita late that night. Mando and Gene insisted on riding home that night. I told them to spend the night, that it was too cold for them to ride, told them that they could get a fresh start in the morning; they said no, that they needed to get on home. So they left. I talked to Mando about a week later, and he told me that they nearly froze their butts off, that it was so cold that they couldn't even talk when they stopped at gas stations to warm up.

When the company closed in 1996, Connie and I left San Diego.


                                                 Tecate Park

November 12, 1913

By kiki

Today November 12, is my father, Aurelio Baltazar, birthday (1913-2000). So I’m going to reflect a bit on his life as I remember it on this the ninety-eighth year of his birth.

I remember my dad been a hefty drinker when he was a young man, but he was also a very hard worker; Pops worked very hard during WWII, holding two eight-hour jobs. But his heavy drinking never kept him from going to work. Every time Pops was drinking heavily, he would take off, my mom would asking him where he was going, and he would answer: “to join the army” he, of course, was turned down every time.

During the war, Pops worked at the Simons Brickyard during the day, and then he would go to work at the American Foundry at night. The Simons Brickyard workers would start early in the morning, around 4:30 or so, they would start working without breakfast. During the summer, around 7 in the morning, I would go around the barrio, pull a wagon, and pick up breakfasts that I would deliver to some of the workers at the brickyard. My mom would pack a breakfast for both my dad and me.

While we were living in the Simons Brickyard, Pops used to grow his own vegetables. Pops also had animals, chickens, rabbits, and a goat; fed to eat them when we were short of store-bought food.

One of my chores as the second man of the house was to feed the animals. Unfortunately, our rabbits were stolen one time, and another time our goat, but those are stories for another day.

Pops was so happy at the birth of my brother Mando in 1950 because he only had one boy out of five kids at the time, so happy that he got stinking drunk; when he sobered up, I remember him saying to mom that he had had his last drink. He was true to his word. He was sober for the next 50 years.

After the war, he got a job working at a pipeline company, Pacific Pipeline. He worked at Pacific Pipeline for several years.

In 1952, we left the brickyard and moved to Pico, now Pico Rivera. Around that time, he got a job with a landscaping company. He worked landscaping the new freeways around Southern California.

He worked at the landscaping company until his retirement in 1968 at the age of 55 years. After his retirement, he worked on his own as a landscaper/gardener; he did that till he was in his late seventy’s.

Pops, a humble and gentle man who loved baseball, passed away in May of 2000.


Happy Birthday, dad….Love you…

Friday, November 11, 2011

My bro

                                                                     By kiki


My brother, Armando “Mando” Baltazar, was born in 1950 when I was 13. At the time Mando was born, Mom and Dad had five kids, four girls and one boy (me). Pops was happy as a lark when Mando was born, and with four girls and one boy, who can blame him? One more girl was born in 1960.

I don’t know much about Mando’s childhood; he was four years old when I got married and left the house in 1954. I do know that he grew up to be a fine young man, going to school and graduating from high school (El Rancho High School, Pico Rivera) in 1969. He joined the military right out of high school. He served two tours with the 101st and 18th Airborne in Vietnam.

Mando came home from Nam in 1972, I believe it was. He soon joined the now defunct Los Angeles County Marshals Department, was with the Marshals for a few years, then the marshals were absorbed into the Los Angeles County Sheriff department, thus he became a deputy sheriff.

Mando and I became close after he returned from the service. We started going camping, motorcycle riding, and, yes, drinking a few beers now and then. He would say more than a few, I am sure.

Mando married, not sure what year. He and his wife, who will go unnamed here, had two children: a daughter, Bianca, and a son, Chris. Bianca is now a Biologist, and Chris followed in Mando’s footsteps and joined the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department. The marriage ended in divorce.

After being single for several years, Mando met Pat. After being romanced and wined and dined, Mando said yes when Pat asked him to marry her. With Pat, Mando has three great stepchildren, Eddie, Andy, and Mandy.

In later years, my wife, Connie, and I became really close to my one and only brothers, Mando and Pat. We went camping, took week-long motorcycle trips, and just had a darn good time together.

Today, Mando and Pat live in retirement in the mountain community of Wrightwood, California.


Love, kiki

The Hole On The Wall

By kiki

Circa 1948, a friend, Richard, a.k.a. Lunga, had a cousin who moved in with his family when she was 18 or so. So my buddies and I were around 11/12 years old, still at the age of some kind of innocence.

The houses in Simons were no more than wooden shacks lacking indoor plumbing. When nature called, the inhabitants would use outhouses and wooden huts for bathing.

Lunga’s bathing hut had a hole in one wall. When the cousin was going to bathe, Lunga would go around telling all of us guys: “she bathing! she bathing!” we guys would get our pennies, nickels, and dimes together, and we would then be queued in front of the wall with Lunga standing by the hole, and he would take our money, the more we paid him, the longer we could watch the cousin bathe. The next day we were looking for bottles to take to the store for refunds for the next bath. Don’t know how many here are old enough to remember when you could take bottles to the store and get refunds.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

With Jimmy Montoya in New York City

                                              Jimmy Montoya

By kiki

Edit by Phil Rice

Jimmy Montoya really burst onto the boxing scene from out of nowhere in 1977. He soon was booking more than fifty fighters, mostly from Mexico, all over the world. He had a guy drive a van full of fighters all over the west coast, filling out cards whenever and wherever there was a need. Thus, the van became known as "The Meat Wagon."

Jimmy was not an especially good boxing teacher, probably because he didn't have any boxing experience. He was an excellent conditioner, though. He had gotten into boxing thru a cousin who was managing his brother, Rudy Robles. The cousin got in hot water and had to go to jail for a few years. He turned his brother over to Jimmy, and like they say, the rest is history. In the early '80's Jimmy became Bob Arum's preliminary matchmaker for Bob's Vegas fights.

In the winter of 1982, I, with my sons Frankie and Tony, went to New York City to meet with Don King; Jimmy Montoya was also there. After we had been there for about four days, Jimmy and I were dying for some Mexican food, so we went out to find some. While walking down 8th Avenue, we saw a place with a big sign: "Mexican Food-Burritos." We walked in, and some Puerto Ricans were running the joint. We turned right around and walked out.

We walked another block until we saw an Italian place. We decided to go in and have some spaghetti and meatballs. As we were waiting for our food, we could hear voices, with many 'dems, deezes, and dozes' coming from the back of the place. I got up and walked to the back to check it out.

"Just some guys shooting pool," I said to Jimmy.

While we were eating, Jimmy asked me if I had any money on me.

"I got some. Why?"

"Lend me forty bucks," he said.

When we finished eating, we went back to where the guys were shooting pool. Jimmy asked if he could play.

"Sure, but we play for money."

"That's okay," said Jimmy.

After two or three games, Jimmy was down to his last ten dollars. He puts the ten bucks on one last game. He won the game.

"I want a rematch," the guy told Jimmy.

"Sure," Jimmy said. Jimmy beats him again. Two more games, and the dude was broke.

Another guy played Jimmy, and after a few games, Jimmy broke him, too.

Then the first guy Jimmy played with got on the phone. Twenty minutes later, a guy walked in with a stick in a fancy case. He got it on with Jimmy, and while Jimmy was playing this guy, the first one was getting drunk.

Jimmy broke this one, too. By this time, the first guy was so stinking drunk that he could barely stand up, but he staggered up to Jimmy and said, "You're good, but you drink to f*#king much."

Jimmy won eight hundred bucks. Since he played and won with my forty dollars, I got four hundred bucks.

We were in New York City for a Don King press conference. It was to be held in a very fancy hotel. Men’s attire was a suit and tie. As Jimmy and I were walking back to our hotel, he told me that he didn’t bring a suit.

“Well. Jimmy, you just won four hundred bucks. Buy one.”

“Hey! I can do that; let’s find a Men’s store.”

We found one on 42nd St. Jimmy looked at some suits and settled on a bluish one if I remember right. The pant's legs were altered in no time, and Jimmy had a new suit.

After getting all dressed up the following day in suits, ties, and since it was a cold February afternoon, also in overcoats, we left to walk to the press conference.

After a short walk in the snow, we arrived at the classy hotel. We walked into a big ballroom where the press conference was to be held. We soon met Don King, and he introduced us to actress/singer Eartha Kitt, actor/dancer Gregory Hines, singer James Brown, and political activist Al Sharpton.


We slipped out of our overcoats and found our table. We had been sitting for about twenty minutes when I happened to look at Jimmy’s suit sleeve; I leaned over and whispered in his ear: “Jimmy, look at your sleeve.” Jimmy looked at his left sleeve, and right away, he put his arm under the table and started pulling off the price tag. Guess he didn't want any of the high rollers to know he bought his suit "off the rack."

When Losing is Winning: Tony Baltazar vs. Howard Davis, Jr. .

The story below was written by my good friend, Phil Rice.

By Phil Rice: The mid-1980s represent something of a golden age for televised boxing. ESPN and USA had weekly boxing shows that often included all of the preliminary matches as well as the main events, so fans got a chance to see the up-and-coming fighters alongside the hard-working club-fighters who might not ever get beyond four-round status. HBO and Showtime programs featured big name attractions, and if a fan watched the cable listings closely, other boxing shows could be found on more obscure channels. But cable television was new and, though the technology was spreading at an enormous rate, as late as 1984 the majority of homes in the United States still picked up their television signal via antennae, which meant their viewing options consisted of ABC, NBC, CBS, and sometimes PBS.

The good news for the boxing fans without cable was that some of the sports' biggest match-ups were still shown live on network telecasts for free, though the viewer was usually forced to wait through various competitions, such as figure skating or skeet shooting, to get to the boxing match. And this is why Sunday, February 22, 1983 found me sitting in front of the television with CBS Sports Sunday on the screen. The telecast featured an indoor track meet, which was not something that would have normally appealed to my tastes but I was willing to keep the show on in anticipation of the intriguing boxing match being offered afterwards. Howard Davis, Jr. was set to box Tony Baltazar in a lightweight match-up.

Davis was a well-known athlete even to the casual sports fan because he had won a gold medal in the 1976 Olympics and had received the Val Barker Award as the outstanding boxer at those games. Afterwards he was considered a star-in-the-making and accordingly signed a huge contract with CBS Sports, but unlike his teammates Ray Leonard, John Tate, Leo Randolph, and brothers Leon and Michael Spinks, as of 1983 Davis had yet to fulfill his promise by winning a professional world championship. Not that he hadn't tried. In 1980 he traveled to Scotland to wrest the WBC crown from Jim Watt, but Watt retained the title with a unanimous decision.

Following his loss to Watt, Davis fought sporadically against good but carefully chosen opponents. With his record stalled at 21-1, he was now looking to drum up interest in a title shot against Ray Mancini, who had won the WBA title from Arturo Frias in an exciting one-round donnybrook. Mancini, a power puncher with a tough chin and enormous heart, was a popular champion and a television favorite, but most boxing insiders gave the slick boxing Davis a comfortable edge in the match-up. Conventional wisdom suggested that Mancini's only chance would be to land a knockout punch, and Davis's skills were considered more than up to the task of keeping him out of harm's way while he piled up the points with combinations from the outside.

In the midst of the build-up to a possible Davis-Mancini battle steps Tony "The Tiger" Baltazar. According to the pre-fight commentary, the fundamental elements of a classic boxer versus puncher encounter were present: a highly skilled defensive master with quick feet and fast hands against a powerful and presumably plodding tough guy with a big punch. The fact that the flashy boxer had shown a questionable chin in previous fights added the necessary element of suspense to the match-up, but the odds still heavily favored the supremely-skilled boxing master over the rugged slugger.

On paper Baltazar was an obvious choice as a tune-up for Davis because he brought many of the same weapons into the ring as Mancini—he was a tough power puncher with an excellent left hook who could be expected to last the distance in a losing effort. To again borrow the old boxing clichĆ©, he only had a puncher's chance in the contest. At least that is what the boxing pundits suggested going into the bout. But, unbeknownst to most of the television viewers, "The Tiger" was much more than a rough brawler. The first clue came when commentator Gil Clancy mentioned that Baltazar "had a great amateur background. He was the National AAU champion . . . ."

Once the bell for round one rang, the Olympic champion began to discover what patrons of the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles had known for years—that Tony Baltazar was a well-trained, fine-tuned fighting machine with good defensive skills. And, as advertised, he also had power to spare.

My casual round-by-round summary of the fight:

Rd 1: Baltazar wins the round by confidently coming after Davis and landing a few punches. Davis moves around but does little offensively, apparently content to use the opening round to size up his opponent.

Baltazar's round, 5-4.

Rd 2: Davis comes out more assertive, throwing combinations and trying to take control of the fight while keeping the action on the outside. Baltazar is aggressive but seems to be impatient and anxious.

Davis's round, 5-4.

Rd 3: Davis is moving, throwing double and triple jabs followed by a right hand, using the ring; Baltazar is throwing a good jab but it's obvious that he's no match for Davis on the outside. He lands a good hook towards the end of the round but not much else.

Davis's round, 5-4.

Rd 4: Baltazar does not seem frustrated by Davis's speed and movement. Davis stays in command for the first minute and a half of the round, but then Baltazar lands a combination that changes the tenor. Suddenly Davis is not moving as much and Baltazar is able to get inside more effectively. With fifteen seconds to go in the round, Baltazar lands a thudding left hook to the body that gets everybody's attention.

Baltazar's round, 5-4.

Rd 5: Baltazar comes out in the fifth and lands a tremendous hook that sends Davis sprawling on the canvas. He struggles to his feet on unsteady legs as the referee counts. Baltazar comes right after him, and Davis immediately shows his world class sprinting ability. At first Baltazar seems a little overanxious, then he calms down—but he calms down a little too much. Davis is able to move around the ring and by mid round his head seems clear and he is throwing combinations again. As the round winds down Baltazar shows his own boxing skills with a powerful jab followed by precise combinations.

Baltazar's round, 5-3.

Rd 6: The first half of the round is evenly contested with Baltazar continuing to come forward and Davis skillfully moving. In the final minute of the round Baltazar slows down slightly and Davis flashes several combinations to gain an edge in scoring.

Davis's round, 5-4.

Rd 7: Another evenly contested round in the opening minute, but this time it's Baltazar who lands the more effective combinations to close the round. He bulls Davis in the corner on occasion and uses his superior strength on the inside.

Balatzar's round, 5-4.

Rd 8: Davis starts the round looking determined to take back control of the fight. He moves less and keeps his hands busy. Baltazar doesn't keep up the pace but he does land some solid punches to the body. In the final minute a perfect left hook drops Davis on his seat.

Baltazar's round, 5-3.

Rd 9: Sensing the fight slip away, Davis comes out aggressively looking to trade, but Baltazar is ready for him. It's a spirited round with Davis taking a very slight edge thanks to his speed and quantity of punches.

Davis's round, 5-4.

Rd 10: Davis continues to be aggressive, and he again gains a very slight edge in an exciting round.

Davis's round, 5-4.

The fight is officially scored on the round system with a supplemental points system to be used in the event of a draw. Because I was, as a fan, pulling for Baltazar, my scoring gives Davis the benefit of the doubt on the close rounds to offset my favoritism. My scorecard shows the fight even at 5 rounds apiece. Using the supplemental scoring system, Baltazar wins 45-43, thanks to the two knockdowns. But the official scorecards were 7-3, 8-2, and 5-4-1 for Davis, thus rendering the supplemental scoring system moot. The Olympic champion is still on course for a title shot.

Baltazar shakes his head when he hears the lopsided scoring as if he senses what is about to happen. When the final verdict in favor of Davis is announced he looks over at Frank Baltazar, his father and chief second, who flashes a cynical and resigned expression that seems to say "well son, we knew you'd have to knock him out to get the win."

Despite being on the victorious end of a highly debatable verdict (most observers felt Baltazar earned the victory), Howard Davis, Jr. proved that he was not only a brilliant boxer but that he possessed a champion's heart. He received more than he bargained for in his opponent this day—Baltazar was clearly a more complete fighter than Mancini—and he had weathered the storm admirably. He had also showed a willingness to get into the trenches and trade punches if necessary, though that was certainly not his preference.

His flawed performance made a fight with Mancini even more intriguing, but it never happened. When he did get another title shot it was against Edwin Rosario for the WBC title. Rosario was a skillful boxer-puncher with good power, and he was at the peak of what would prove to be his athletic prime. Davis lost a split decision, with two knockdowns—both from left hooks—making the difference in the scoring. He retired in 1996 with his goal of becoming a World Champion in the pro ranks unfulfilled, but his legacy of being one of the finest amateur boxers ever to lace up the gloves remains untarnished.

Stepping in against Howard Davis marked the big-time debut for Tony Baltazar, and his outstanding performance instantly elevated him to genuine contender status. As he would further demonstrate in subsequent fights, Baltazar possessed a professional demeanor, a sturdy chin, a tremendous heart, great power, and one of the best left hooks in the sport. Just five months after the Davis fight he was in the ring with Robin Blake, a tall power puncher who was receiving tons of media exposure. Baltazar and Blake traded bombs back and forth in one of the most exciting fights of the year. Once again Baltazar raised his stock in a losing effort, this time by ninth round technical knockout.

Unfortunately, like Davis, Baltazar never brought home a world title, but his resume is littered with victories over world-class opponents, most notably a decision victory over Roger Mayweather in 1984. Regardless of such baubles, "Tony the Tiger" proved that he was one of the best lightweights of his generation. Howard Davis, one must assume, would agree with that assessment.

More so than probably any other sport, assessing a boxer's career by looking at the final tally of wins and losses barely provides even a clue as to the athlete's true worth. Perhaps that's a point for the rest of us—that simple two dimensional analyses are ultimately superficial and deceptive. On February 22, 1983, Howard Davis, Jr. was awarded a victory, and from that day forward Tony Baltazar carried an "L10" on his record. But the story is much deeper and richer than those simple facts illustrate. The story is one of growth and fortitude, of living and breathing. And so it is that a single boxing match in the career of two legendary pugilists can stand as a definitive moment for each, regardless of whose hand was raised after the final bell.



Phil Rice, a native of Tennessee, currently lives and writes in Pittsburgh, Pa. He may be contacted at phil@canopicpublishing.com.

Tony Baltazar v John Montes

By kiki



A cross-town amateur rivalry between Tony Baltazar and John Montes had been building up in the late '70s. Both had been getting some good amateur wins, so it was just a matter of time before they fought. On our part, we were ready to fight Montes at any time. 

John Montes came into the junior boxing program scene in the early '70s, whereas Tony started in '64 and by the mid- '70s (1976) had already won a National Junior Olympic title. So we felt that Tony was too experienced for John at that point.

Felix Villareal, the amateur matchmaker at the Olympic Auditorium, called me on Monday and said that the Montes people wanted John to fight Tony on Thursday's night pro/am boxing card; I said okay. Felix then told me it had to be at '32; again, I said okay, Tony can make '32 if that's what they want. I told Felix. On Thursday morning, Tony, Frankie, and I went to the weight in's. Frankie was with us because he was fighting the night's pro-main-event against Shig Fukuyama. Both Frankie and Tony made weight easy.


That night before the fights started, I ran into my Uncle Florentino, my dad's brother, at the Olympic. He was with a group of Montes fans. He told me that Tony better win as he was betting all of his friends who were backing Montes. Tony ended the fight, which we expected to be a close battle, with a spectacular left hook in under a minute and a half of the first round. Montes was out for over 5 minutes. And Frankie also had a great night; he stopped Fukuyama in the fourth round.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

“Pendejo”

By kiki

As I was getting up one early morning, I tripped over my laptop's cable, and I fell head over heels and landed on my back; at that time, Connie was in the shower, and there was nobody else home but the dogs. Chata, our English Bulldog, walked up to me as I was on the floor, put her nose to mine, and I could see that she was thinking 'pendejo' By the time Connie got out of the shower, I was sitting on the bed, I said, "babe, I felled down," Connie hit me with this "pendejo"...I said, "I thought you loved me" Connie hit me even harder, "I do, but I don't like you"...go figure