TODAY WE KNOW HIM BY A SINGLE NAME, BUT SAUL ALVAREZ BECAME THE FACE OF BOXING THROUGH YEARS OF STUDYING HIS CRAFT, HONING HIS SKILLS AND CHALLENGING HIMSELF By Doug Fischer THE BIRTH OF CANELO
B efore the word “Canelo” was a global brand attached to the face of North American boxing, it was just the fighting moniker of a teenage prospect from Mexico. “Saul Alvarez” is what he was called here in the U.S. if you go back more than 15 years. His nickname, “Canelo” (Spanish for cinnamon), was only heard during his ring introductions and in the chants from the small cheering sections inside the casino ballrooms where his first two fights on American soil took place back in 2008. No fanfare accompanied those bouts. And even when the U.S. boxing media began to take notice a few years later, the jury was out on how good the freckle-faced ginger really was. I was one of those skeptics. However, even during the early years of Alvarez’s rise, the personable young man from Guadalajara grew on me. It wouldn’t take long for him to impress me – and the rest of the world – as a fighter and a competitor. Let’s take a stroll down memory lane (and through my old reporter’s notebooks), back to the MaxBoxing.com days (when I was more of a beat writer than an editor) and my early years with The Ring. First reference, first impression I heard the name “Saul” for the first time in November 2003. It was after a press conference at the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles, the site of one of Golden Boy Promotions’ first shows. The card was co-headlined by two
rugged Guadalajara veterans – Oscar Larios and Javier Jauregui – trained and managed by the Reynosos: Chepo and Eddy (“Edison” back then). The father-and-son team were fielding questions from a small group of mostly Latino sportswriters, including Ramiro Gonzalez, the boxing scribe for La Opinión (the largest Spanish-language newspaper on the West Coast at the time). Gonzalez asked Chepo about “Saul,” which instantly put a big smile on the old trainer’s face. He spoke enthusiastically in Spanish to Gonzalez, who later filled me in about the prepubescent amateur – youngest of seven boxing brothers – who was tough enough to serve as a sparring partner for Larios, the reigning WBC 122-pound titleholder. Fast-forward almost five years to October 2008. Gonzalez, who had become Golden Boy’s PR director, told me that Alvarez was set to make his U.S. debut on a GBP card at the Morongo Casino in Cabazon, California. “You want to be there,” he said. “Saul is going to be the next Chavez.” I rolled my eyes at what seemed like typical publicist bullshit, but the backstory of a rare Mexican redhead turning pro at 15, fighting on free TV (Televisa) and quickly becoming one of the most popular fighters in his boxing-rich country piqued my interest. However, I wasn’t curious enough to brave Southern California traffic on a Friday night. Don’t judge me; Cabazon is 100 miles east of my hometown of Inglewood. It was easier to watch Alvarez on free Spanish-language TV – TeleFutura’s
Illustration by Smithe
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