This Might Be Rockier Than you Figured:  Ricardo “Rocky” Juarez’s Flaming Ambition
By George Diaz Smith

Just like the American League pennant and World Series 2007 winners the Boston Red Sox, it took years after the selling of Babe Ruth in 1920 to the Yankees for them to win that elusive championship, and thus the “Curse of the Bambino” took a gripping stronghold. 

The many rocky roads of 27-year old Ricardo “Rocky” Juarez, 27-3, 19 KO’s, have persisted like an ill-fated Rodney Dangerfield night at an Improv, and the shakier thing about it is he may never get another chance at the brass ring if he doesn’t shed its indeterminable curse. 

If you told me back in 2002-04 who was the best Featherweight on the planet, I would have told you hands down that it was Ricardo Juarez.  But as sometimes happens in boxing nothing is for sure, and about the only certainty there is in the game is an icepack over your eye, maybe a stitch or two, have enough time to pop a chewable peppermint candy in your mouth, take a friendly pat on the back, and a paycheck at the end of the day. 

Juarez knows all that.  He’s a very tough and gritty guy who has more patience than I have seen in any fighter.  My own take on that is once you hear something in his voice which suggests he may have other concealed talents other then getting inside the squared circle, his dark eyes don’t flinch.  Genetically he was made for fighting.  Boxing became almost second nature for him since his amateur days.  An outstanding recorded 145-17, accenting his 68-straight wins became an amateur milestone.

His home decorated filled with trophies, mementos, 1999 World champion, Two-time US champion (1999-2000), and gold medals acquired from the Junior Olympics and Nationals, Juarez became the brunt of a terrible 14-22 scored decision at the 2000 Summer Olympiad, with a clutching and holding Kazakhstan named Berkzat Sattarkhanov winning in berating fashion. 

What takes that resentment through a positive experience are the things to look forward for tomorrow. There was no turning back, no reversals, and absolutely any secondary reviewing about scores that have been left tabulated on the desks.  The Olympic OIC and their boxing contemporaries insure all of that. 
The only sour note was that Sattarkhanov held without penalizations of any kind other then getting an occasional warning. 

The Houston, Texan sucked that up and moved onward.  He wasn’t going to be favored as an American going into the gold medal round—Hispanic or not, that all was expected and had left behind an unreliable amount of bad residue hence the 1988 games at Seoul which bared a disgraced Roy Jones, Jr., in front of the whole wide world, and a day of reckoning. 

The Rocky we got introduced to become more mature, focused, and went to work like getting off the golf miniature cart to punt on the green.  He didn’t let anything hold him back. Since turning pro he grew into a full two inches in height, gotten more muscular in his frame definition, and received a punch of a mules hind leg’s back kick.   Fitness has always been Juarez’s main attribute, and learning to be limiting the amount of returned hellfire from the other side his most telling experience.  The game has changed in those geographical aspects somewhat.  Boxers now shoot to fight the least amount of fights that they can have for the most amounts of money.

It wasn’t supposed to have worked that way in Rocky’s generation, but they’d it was.  A typically revamped formation of classic nepotism that subjugate and infiltrate your senses and that dish out an incredible amount of people’s belts around compounded the situation, that now I heard entices more redirected favoritisms you can count on toes without a standard fee for a sanctioned organized belt buckle, or any more blessings from the good old folks at Seagram’s VO who once a boxing publication had carried as patronage and sponsorship.

It’s been awhile since the Lite beer’s accounted for much free spotting television advertisements. 

It becomes harder to believe that Juarez has only turned pro January 13, 2001 straight out ofthe US Olympic team as a 20 year old garnering the Featherweight Silver medal at Sydney.He’s also somewhat of a rarity in staying very loyal to one weight class. 

Rocky did rediscover the left hook to the liver and straight right hand as his signatures,but also included an array of defensive moves with a stronger reference to his jab. He began to wobble and stagger opponents with much more regularity, and that was a good thing.

 One prolific knockout came on a featherweight homecoming for Juarez.  The site was Reliant Park, Houston, TX, and a well-schooled technical Brooklynite boxing-slugger in Antonio “Chelo” Diaz, 24-3,11 KO’s, was slicker then most. However, Rocky did not back down and met Antonio with as much relentlessness in matching significant accelerations resembling massive suicide.  Forging ahead and relying on pure hustle, Juarez did not need to take the 10th and final round by any stretch of the imagination as a ‘Come from behind’ rush for success—but took on a rather ginger approach and stand to drive a malicious left-hook quickly dispatching of Diaz entirely at 1:33 of the tenth for keeps!   How many fighters fighting at home do you know who would take that risk?  The audacity to step up to the plate and seal an opponent’s fate with a single punch is what Juarez did. 

The Dominican made off with a cool $50,000 in his fight with Juarez, but made some noise getting “KO Of The Year” honors over at The Ring, and still managed to open a Pizzeria in Brooklyn during 2001’s WBO title he snatched from Hungary's Istvan "Ko Ko" Kovacs (Remember him?), the difference of Diaz having $45,000 substantial more dollars fighting Istvan then Rocky—minus the US television exposure.        

I knew somehow after a few spoken words with Juarez appeasing to his more debonair and genuinely gentleman exterior, he showed promise and education in speaking with us in the media, but I can’t recall anyone after the July 19, 2003 fight in Texas say, Juarez, over his second year as a pro would capture world accolades.  Not a single one.  That hook was like a back-in-the-day Bantamweight Alfonso Zamora kind of punch that tends to take the starch out of an adversary and stays with you for a very long time. 

Rocky at 5’5, and an unbelievable achiever for all his 126 dimensions had caused very little stir from that fight to cause people to notice grandly he was going to be the featherweight champion determined to be—both inside and outside of Houston.   And to flag down matters worse; here lies a boxer-banger who’s so much better then having beaten Hector Velazquez out November 22nd ’03; winning a Vacant WBC Continental Americas featherweight scrap that in reality enhanced Velazquez’s career more so by fighting him.           

Here was the 1999’s World Amateur Champion that regardless of what part about the whereabouts any neighborhood’s DNA ran, we knew the tiers of experiences amateur boxers went through, particularly in places like Cuba and some of the Eastern European fighters who’ve broken bread for breakfast.  That part about Rocky frustrated me.  I just felt his anguish and irritated battle; that they simply weren’t talking enough about him here like other fighters; and that was about as blunt as you could put it.   

Rewinding back to another fight earlier on May 3rd, this one in the world famous Flamingo Hilton, Las Vegas, NV, where Juarez destructed Frank Leroy Arculeta, a known Vegas frontrunner and prominent contender for going the twelve grinding round distances a year before in a losing effort with the retired and remained undefeated Alejandro Barrera (Cousin of Marco Antonio Barrera).   Archuleta got kayoed in half those distances, and Rocky was still looking for the Aretha Franklin hit title song R.E.S.P.E.C.T.  

He somehow gotten way too much of that in one particular fight that I remember, again at the Reliant Center in Houston, which was scheduled originally as an IBF title Eliminator, that eluded Juarez.  In a fight where referee Robert Gonzalez officiated, it became apparent the warnings, which started for Zahir “Z-Man” Raheem, who incidentally was fighting also for a WBC Continental Americas strap, got chastised almost exclusively throughout the match.  

I’ve had my skepticism and dukes up for Robert officiating the Rocky Juarez-Chelo Diaz fight beforehand, and could swear he almost prevented the knockout from occurring had he inadvertently been between the fighters the time of the stoppage.  Even though Rocky was favored that night, you had to feel Gonzalez’s incompetence and some degree of empathy for Raheem.  Juarez took the unanimous decision with a grain of salt in spite the buffoonery Robert Gonzalez displayed that got horse from shouting Zahir’s name and slapping him with deductions and forewarnings.  I have never felt so embarrassed for each guy in any boxing match at its conclusion before, but this was one rare exception. 

The win was almost as embarrassing for Juarez as the loss was to Raheem; and I never got a bigger headache quite like it as a matter of fact; not like in the way that fight was conducted thanks largely to the referee.   Biases never seize to amaze me so blatantly seen.

Juarez’s loses came from Erik “El Terrible” Morales and another in his first upset was from a late substitute fighter for In Jin Chi, which took a much truer than life form in a Humberto Soto.

 That’s understandable, both fights were very competitive, and Juarez wouldn’t mind a revenge match in the future against Soto, who really was the first to defeat definitively a Ricardo Juarez of his own generation.  Now you would think those fights would have endeared the public’s interest toward him a lot more him having prepared for one fighter, and then getting another, but it hadn’t.   Either there was an enormous pressure that came from other bounds somewhere, or a great effort did not amount to what the crowd would refer to “winning” as the only antidote to beat the blues.  Rocky wasn’t dejected, but an incredible amount of questions on how you’re going to place him in history began to arise. That’s where Marco Antonio Barrera stepped into the picture.          

May 20, 2006, at The Staples Center, Marco Antonio knew he had a real trail horse at his heels, Barrera taking the first half of the fight, and then later for the next half sustained an impediment to breathing and biting down his gumshield, spat his mouthpiece out.  That was due to his nose, which bled, and that relied much about Juarez’s intestinal fortitude.  But Barrera came back, and like a finely tuned Oldsmobile, Rocky experienced what in mileage took him to a whole other another level. 

Sure Barrera had gotten the decision, but you had but to see Marco’s facial features to know he was in a brutal clash, and great it was.  So great in fact that at first they ruled fight a draw, but then recanted errors on the scorecards of two judges there that then gave the nod to Barrera ona Split-decision.   

Rocky Juarez has tasted champagne, but wasn’t exactly bubbling in the suds.

 He fought his returned match with the Mexican icon and Legend the following September 16that the MGM Grand losing with scores 111-117, and 113-115 (twice). 

He’s since gotten back on track this year last February with a stoppage over Emmanuel Lucero (TKO 5), and a unanimous decision over Jose Andres Hernandez in May.  

He is slated to meet this November 3rd at the Desert Diamond Casino, Tucson, AZ, WBC Super Featherweight Champion, Juan Manuel Marquez, 47-3-1, 35 KO’s, and successor to Juarez’s stately nemesis from the past (Marco Antonio Barrera).  There isn’t a bone in me that goes against the grain of automation and projected seating arrangements that leads me to think other than the name of Manny Pacquiao in the woodwork, I mean I’m certainly not naive to think this couldn’t be a build up for Marquez-Pacquiao #2, which could conceivably see Marquez’s numbers invariably drop dramatically by fight time at the flood lines gate. 

However, if I were to wager some serious money… and not look too frugal in the process of doing so…. keep some of that chump change in your moneybag just yet to make one wage on Juarez to win.