TRIUMPH AND TRAGEDY The Sad Demise of Israel “Magnifico” Vazquez By Nigel Collins
I woke up the morning of December third and reached for my phone to check the weather and learn what terrible things had taken place while I slept safely in my suburban bed. My eyes were not drawn to the news of endless wars, famine, floods and crooked politicians. Instead, my sorrow stemmed from the fact that retired Mexican boxer Israel “Magnifico” Vazquez had succumbed to cancer at the age of 46. I knew he was sick, but I foolishly hoped he’d rally as he had so often in the ring. Like most of you, I have admired and respected Mexican boxers for decades. How can you not? From those who crossed the border in the trunk of a car to jet-setting champions such as Canelo and the Lion of Culiacan, Mexican fighters at any level come to fight, in shape, out of shape, it doesn’t matter. They will give everything they’ve got. It’s the only thing they know. Magnifico Vazquez was ne plus ultra of the breed. Vazquez, however, punched his way into my heart for reasons difficult to explain. Sure, there was his lethal punching power, fan-friendly style and a willingness to take on the very best. I’m certain those qualities were more than enough to attract a lot of savvy fans. Nonetheless, for me there was more. The juxtaposition between his assassin- like persona in the ring and the hint of vulnerability in his eyes spoke to me. Of course, back then I didn’t know how it would end, but the poignancy lingers. Israel was a slugger and a boxer, a fighter who knew the fundamentals but preferred to fight mano-a-mano. Punching power was his calling card and knockouts were his game. Sounds a little bit like
“have gun, will travel.” But when you have a punch like Vazquez, you don’t need a gun. Still, his style necessitates toe- to-toe action, and that means taking a few more punches than the jab-and-move artists and clinch masters. If you want a peep into Vazquez’s soul, see the photograph of Magnifico’s pixie- like face on the top of his BoxRec page. His skin seems rubbery. He’s smiling the best he could, his right eye black, scuffed and lacking the sparkle of his left. Away from the ring, the blood of combat washed away, he looked like an overgrown altar boy. By all accounts, Israel was a loving family man. He and his wife, Laura, were raising three children when he died. L ike so many Mexican boys, Israel was soccer-crazy, but when he was around 12 years old his father took him to a boxing gym where his older brother trained. Israel didn’t box. He just sat there like an unaffiliated person “auditing” a university lecture. “Even though I didn’t train, I learned a lot just watching,” Israel told The Ring for an article in the January 2008 issue. “When I finally started to box, I developed quickly.” Starting with his pro debut on March 3, 1995, Vazquez went 15-1 in bouts fought in Mexico, learning his trade and waiting for a break that would transport him north of the border. It is a rite of passage for Mexican boxers, an opportunity to go as far as his or her talent will take them. Well, maybe. It’s one of those “many are called, few are chosen” situations. There was nothing flashy about Israel.
He was just a brave man who knew how to fight. He had help along the way but held his future in his own two hands. Literally. He trained his ass off. Never stopped. Grinding all the way. He knew his conditioning was key to staying on top. It was like being a gunslinger in the old West. There’s always somebody after him, somebody who wants his rep, somebody he doesn’t give a damn about until the bell rings. M ost of Vazquez’s pro bouts in Mexico were small-time club shows, but on a national level his match with undefeated Oscar Larios at the Arena Coliseo in Mexico City – broadcast on Televisa, April 12, 1997 – was a fairly big deal. “[Larios’ people] brought me in as an opponent, as a stepping stone,” Vazquez told The Ring. “In the local newspaper, there was a headline: ‘Israel Vazquez Going To Get Pulverized By The Dangerous Oscar Larios.’ When they said his record (20-0, 16 KOs), I thought, ‘Damn, what did I get myself into?’ “When the bell rang, we let it all hang out. Then when I put some distance between us and threw a jab, that put him down. I thought to myself, ‘This guy can’t take it.’ I realized if I pressured him that I could knock him out quickly. He got up, and when I hit him again the second time, he was out on his feet. I hit him with an uppercut, then a right, then another. Boom! He hit the floor like a piece of wood. His head bounced off the canvas. The win helped my career tremendously.” Vazquez’s future manager, Frank Espinoza, was not in attendance at the first Larios fight, but he watched a
Israel Vazquez was among boxing’s elite action heroes of the 2000s.
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