A Fighter and a Friend . . .

By Rick Farris

I was twelve when my family moved back to Burbank in 1964.This is where I would begin junior high school. I came from Orange County, where I grew up having more than my share of school yard fights. I expected being the new kid in class, somebody was going to try me, and I was ready, but it never happened. The kids in Burbank were a lot more mellow than I was used to, so I rarely had a fight.

I was one of the smaller guys in my class, but I was pretty much an athlete, and I'd meet another kid who was the same. He was my size and a great athlete, good runner. His name was Frankie Santillan, and he and I kind of hit it off.

At the time, I was totally into boxing. I dreamed of being a boxer and was looking for a place to make my dream come true. I would find out that Frankie also liked boxing, and that his dad Max was also a boxing guy. After school, I'd bring my boxing gloves over the Frankie's house and we'd box in the backyard. Frank's younger brother Maxie would referee. Afterwards Frankie would grab a couple of his dad's boxing magazines and we'd talk about some of the fighters of the era. I remember us discussing Joey Giambra one day. About twenty-five years later I'd meet Giambra, and as we discussed his career, I thought about the day Frankie mentioned it to me. We also talked about Davey Moore, the featherweight champ who had died in the ring a couple years earlier, in the only boxing event to ever be held at Dodger Stadium.

 A couple years later, my parents bought a home on the other side of town and we moved. After that I didn't see Frankie, we would attend different high schools. Shortly after moving I began my boxing career, training under Johnny Flores who managed heavyweight contender Jerry Quarry. I fought in the Junior Golden Gloves for nearly three years before I would see my old pal Frankie Santillan again.As we began the 1968 Jr. Golden Gloves tournament, I was fighting in the 96-105 pound weight class, in the Open division. As I looked over a program for the upcoming round of eliminations, I see a name that caught me totally by surprise, Frankie Santillan. Frank was fighting out of Canto Robledo's "Crown City Boxing Club" in Pasadena. He was fighting in my same weight class, but in the Novice division. Like me, Frankie Santillan was on a path that would one day lead both of us to make our professional boxing debuts while still attending high school.

 I won the Open division championship that year. And Frankie Santillan won in the Novice division. Frankie was flashy, fast, a solid puncher that liked to box but was more than willing to stand and punch. Although we were a bit different in style, we shared the same spirit, and we were both used to winning.

I remember that my dad and Frankie's father became friends as they sat together watching us fight. And they sat together, Frankie's family and mine, when the two of us finally fought. We would fight four times, and I truly believed that every fight was very close. I would lose two of those fights. We were friends outside the ring, but in the ring we were all business. We took nothing personal, but in the ring we were out to KO one another. But that never happened, we both stayed on our feet, and we both went toe-to-toe.

We both traveled to Las Vegas for the1970 Golden Gloves Nationals. Frankie's dad snapped a photo of the two of us in the dressing room prior to our fighting opponents from the Nevada team. I fought somebody from Arizona, and I forget who Frankie whipped that night. About two months later, we'd both turn pro a few weeks before graduating from high school.

We'd both fight at the Olympic Auditorium, and make our pro debuts on TV facing the same opponent, Antonio Villanueva, just a couple weeks apart.

After a few years, Frankie left boxing suddenly. I never saw him again. He and I had both worked as a sparring partner for the great bantamweight champ, Ruben Olivares. And we'd both boxed with world champs Bobby Chacon, Danny Lopez and others. I fought a bit longer before quitting for good when I was 24. I often wondered about Frankie Santillan. We shared a unique history, we walked the same path, and we both came out about the same career wise.

One day I get a Facebook friend request - from Frank Santillan!

In the late 90's, I began writing about boxing and I became involved with a few veteran boxer organizations and the World Boxing Hall of Fame. During the past dozen years I was able to reconnect with many of the great boxers I knew way back when. Frank told me he just walked away from boxing, but now he is back. In a few weeks, Frank Santillan, a good fighter and a good friend will return to a place where his star shined for awhile. And best of all, he'll be with all of us who knew him well, long time friends. We are no longer teenage prizefighters, we are a couple of old men. But on December 10th, we'll join some other old men we once knew and we are going to take a nice little step back in time.

Frankie and I never won a professional championship, but I can honestly say that we have traded punches with some of the greatest boxers of all-time. And it all started in a back yard in Burbank.

-Rick Farris

Floyd Mayweather Jr vs Victor Ortiz: Character Inside the Ring and a Fight Town's Legacy

By Randy De La O

There is an age old adage in boxing that goes something like this, "You are never so naked as when you are standing in the ring". It's not the physical nakedness they are referring to, it's the character of a man (or a women) that's exposed. Your courage and heart and sense of fair play, and your ability or inability to handle pressure, or the propensity to cheat when frustrated, or a lack of character when it's time to face your actions when caught. You are never so naked a when you are standing in the ring. Ask Victor Ortiz, he got caught completely naked last night.

125486843 LAS VEGAS, NV - SEPTEMBER 17: Victor Ortiz reaches his head out as Floyd Mayweather Jr. is against the rope in the fourth round during their WBC welterweight title fight at the MGM Grand Garden Arena on September 17, 2011 in Las Vegas, Nevada. Referee Joe Cortez called Ortiz for an illegal headbutt. (Photo by Ethan Miller/Getty Images) 2011 Getty Images

 I'm no fan of Floyd Mayweather Jr, never have been and most likely, never will be. What I am is a fan of the sport of boxing. As difficult as that can be at times, especially when someone like Mayweather is involved, I do try my absolute best to put aside my own personal bias and dislikes and focus just on the fighter and the fights. It's not always easy. Saturday night's fight between Mayweather and Victor Ortiz is a good example. Coming into this fight I wanted Ortiz to put the trash talking Mayweather in his place. I wasn't 100% sure he could but I was rooting for him to pull it off. The other reason I was rooting for Ortiz was that I wanted to see the guy redeem himself. I was hoping he would prove once and for all, that his blatant quitting in the Marcos Maidana fight was an anomaly, just something that happened, a one time quirky act. I thought that Ortiz understood what true character was, and that he was going to work like hell to prove himself. Maybe position himself along side some of the great fighters of the past.

 Us guys from the West Coast and the L.A. fight scene are a proud bunch. We love our fighters and their exploits passionately. We have as rich a history in the sport as any town in the country, or the world too for that matter. We cherish and defend that history. The fighters that were either born here or came here to live and fight, range from the completely mediocre to the legendary. They trained at the Main Street Gym, the Teamsters Gym, the Hoover Street Gym and Canto Robledo's backyard gym. The names of these fighters stand with the best from anywhere in the world when it comes to courage, heart and fair play and they include fighters such as Manny Ortiz, Gil Cadilli, Kenny Teran, Art Aragon, Enrique Bolanos,Lauro Salas, Denny Moyer, Mando Ramos, Hedgeman Lewis, Randy Shields, Mando Muniz, Bobby Chacon, Danny "Little Red" Lopez, Rick Farris, , the Fighting Irish Brothers Jerry and Mike Quarry, Frankie Baltazar, Tony Baltazar, and more recently, Sugar Shane Mosley and Oscar De La Hoya. I couldn't begin to list them all.

Guys like Ruben Olivares, Chucho Castillo, Jesus Pimental came north from Mexico to lay it on the line at the Olympic Auditorium and the Forum because they knew L.A. was a fight town like no other and appreciated a fighter worth his salt. Art Hafey headed south from Canada to Southern California, to jump into the midst of what has come to be known as the "West Coast Featherweight Wars". The West Coast has been a hot bed of boxing for decades and L.A. has been the epicenter of it all. We don't care what nationality you are, what color you are or what your religion is. If you can fight and are willing, and can take it as good as you can give, than you are our kind of fighter. it's as simple as that. We'll be with you all the way.

 Then along comes Victor Ortiz, wanting to stand tall with all the rest. Quit against Maidana and was given a second chance at a career. Positioned himself with one of the two pound for pound best fighters in the world, and was making a fight of it. Mayweather began picking up some steam and the fighter who has ironically come to be known as "Vicious" began to crumble. Ortiz had Mayweather against the ropes and was actually landing some good shots, when for reasons known only to him, he decided to take the low road with a headbutt so obviously intentionally a blind man would have had no trouble seeing it. Anomaly? No, lack of character, lack of true courage, a complete lack of fair play.

 Am I being too harsh here? I don't think so. Given that Ortiz had a shot at redemption and spit in our eyes in the process, I think he's getting off easy. The crowd at the Staples Center, judging by the boos for Mayweather seem to be excusing Ortiz' behavior. Mayweather did what any sane fighter would and should do when facing a man who has already shown himself to be a cheater. I would lay some pretty good money that many of the same people that think Floyd sucker punched Ortiz, were jumping for joy a few years back when, Marco Antonio Barrera, like Mayweather, took matters into his own hands and grabbed Nassem Hamed in a half nelson and rammed him face first into the ring post. I don't recall ever hearing of one fan that thought Barrera was in the wrong. Neither was Floyd Mayweather in the wrong. But for the headbutt there would have been no controversy or knockout, at least not that particular knockout.

 To borrow quote from Dorothy and "The Wizard of Oz", "Victor, you're not in Kansas anymore!"