The day I arrived for our interview, he was in the ring sparring with a partner—his body covered with a thin layer of sweat, his breathing short and swift, his movements quick, almost feline. Being so close to the fighter I had watched move up through the ranks to win the gold medal at the 1992 Summer Olympics made my own breath quicken and heart race.
After a few more instructions from his trainer, Oscar jumped down from the ring and put on his robe. “Hello,” he purred to me in his soft, bedroom voice. At 5’11”, he gazed down at me with his deep brown eyes. Even more handsome up close, not only does he look like a movie star, his life reads like a film script.
De La Hoya was born in East Los Angeles 26 years ago to immigrant parents. He was a quiet child who never joined a street gang or took drugs. Instead, his fists were aimed at amateur boxing competitions and filled with awards.
While growing up, his biggest supporter was his mother, Cecilia, who died of breast cancer two years before she could see her son accomplish her fondest dream—winning the gold medal at the Olympics. When Oscar got back to the States, he placed his prized award on her tombstone in a touching memorial. With such loving devotion, it’s clear that this prize fighter’s warmth and gracious manner is a living tribute to his mother.
Since you’re a boxer, the obvious question is, did you get into fights a lot when you were a kid?
Actually, my brothers and my cousins used to make me fight in the street. I must have been six or seven years old. I always ended up crying and running away. They would hit me one time and that was it—it was over. I would be scared. It was always like that.
Then how did you finally get into the ring?
One day we were at my uncle’s house, in the garage, just having a good time. All my cousins were boxing, and it was my turn to go up against my cousin. My gloves came up to my elbows and my shorts went down to my ankles. My cousin got a good one in between those two huge gloves. Pow! I just started crying. I ran to my father, who was telling everybody, “Just wait and see. I’m going to take him to the gym and in a few years, he’ll get you back.” Everyone teased me and my father, saying, “What a crybaby.”
Have you ever been scared in the ring?
When you’re going into the ring you’re nervous but never scared. I always say if you’re not nervous, something has to be wrong. If I get very scared, then I’ll lose because I won’t know what I’m doing. Inside the ropes it’s as if something else just takes over. I’m not embarrassed to be afraid. I learned a long time ago to live with fear—but it’s controlled fear. Being relaxed and anticipating punches with accuracy—getting out of the way of punches is controlled fear. I still have a lot to learn—I’m young. But every time I finish a fight or a workout, I feel I’ve learned something new. There’s always room for improvement no matter how long you’ve been in this business.
Now that you know how to fight, are people afraid of you?
I’ve never had a street fight—since I was six years old. I’m not a bully. I felt, and I feel now, that it’s unfair because I know how to fight. It’s like when I used to go up against my cousins, they were older than me and bigger than me and it was unfair of them to hit me. Now I feel the same way. It’s unfair of me to go up there and bang on somebody.
How do you feel about being famous?
Sometimes I think, I wish I had my old life back when I was living in East Los Angeles without really having money; struggling to put food on the table. I think I was happier back then than I am now.
Because of the closeness you had with your family?
Yes. And it’s tough to find someone who’s going to love you—for you, not for who she thinks you are or the world thinks you are. I want to have a girlfriend. I think about that all the time…all the time. I mean, I’m happy with what I have, I’m very fortunate. I’ve worked hard for what I have.
Is it hard to trust now?
It’s tough. But I can see right through somebody. Sometimes it’s scary. I can see right through everybody. It’s a gift.
You’ve been dubbed “painfully handsome”. Do you feel like the sex symbol so many women feel you are?
I don’t know that I am, but it’s fun actually. All I wanted to be when I grew up was a prize fighter and the opportunity to go into different fields. Photo shoots and front covers of magazines—even doing acting and commercials—that’s like a bonus to me. It’s exciting. It’s an opportunity for me to meet, someday, the perfect one.
What’s the most important thing you’ve learned in the last couple of years?
Respecting people. Whoever it is, whoever I meet, respect that person. Because you never know who they are, or if in the future they might help you out. Even if I hate somebody so bad, I still leave that door open for them. You never know what’s going to happen.
Who was your first love?
My first love! A broken heart! Oh my gosh. I was in love with this girl in high school. My high school sweetheart. We were going out for a year. I never touched her—maybe a little kiss, but that was it. She lived a block away from me. I would walk to her home every single day after the gym and we’d spend four or five hours on her porch, sitting and talking and cuddling. That went on for a year. Then it was time for me to start getting ready for the Olympic games, and so I went off to the Colorado Springs training center. I went there for about three weeks and I’d never been away from home, or from her for that long. I’d call her every day—five, six times a day. Some of my buddies there were a little jealous. They’d see me on the phone all the time talking to my girlfriend. Then these guys got hold of her number and they put a girl on to talk to her saying, “Don’t talk to Oscar, because he’s mine over here,” and this and that. So when I got home, she told me not to talk to her anymore. That was the last time I ever talked to her…
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