Favorite Mexican Fighter and Why

To tell you the truth Combinacion I reckon Finito gets a fair bit of attention. Relative to other divisions and other fighters of his time maybe not but relative to guys down where he was who were just as good if not better and proved this against better fighters he gets plenty of accolades..probably to much is you ask me.

One of the best technicians I reckon Ive seen but again he just didnt prove it against very good opposition. Thats why I have a really tough time putting him ahead of guys like Sanchez, Olivares, Zarate etc.

 

I'd say both Lopez and Galaxy often get more overrated than underrated. Neither proved themselves as conclusively as the true greats of the sport do, though they were undeniably very effective fighters. I don't even think they proved themselves as thoroughly as the other top fighters around their weight at the time.

 

Khaosai is very overrated.

it's no secret to anyone that I feel his brother is the far more accomplished fighter.

 

response to these 3 reverberating points: I wouldn't know...as I've only just ventured into a Classic Boxing Forum today!

Was just going off real-life conversations with much older fans of the sport.


Khaosai aside. With regards to Finito Lopez: i don't know the ins & outs of what could've happened or should've... as I'm still pretty damn young... but am I wrong in thinking that this is not his fault? He beat all he could in his time in a relatively dry weightclass (compared to traditionally deep lower-mid weight-classes).

I don't know.. what do y'all think. Enlighten me.

 

Lopez could've easily moved up to take on Carbajal or Gonzalez during his reign. Both would've been very winnable fights for him over better opponents than any on his current ledger.

 

I think promotional issues prevented Lopez from taking on either of those guys...and when I say promotional issues I mean Don King.

 

I have so much love and admiration for so many Mexican fighters,but Sal is definitely my favorite Aztec Warrior ever.M8te,you said it absolutely perfectly.Thank you brother.

 

Chava.

He emanated the stoic grandeur of bygone Aztec glory. His easy, confident smile reflected the good-naturedness of his countrymen. In a nation where many a poor neighborhood even now has its own boxing gym busy with young dreamers, Sal emerged as everyone's big brother, the typically Mexican individualistic spirit that, with hardly any amateur experience, learned and mastered his craft his way, pushing against the limits of greatness to make his people proud.

Wilfredo Gómez had bruised the national pride. He had opened his big mouth once too many times in gloating over his reputed superiority: he had thrashed Zarate in native Puerto Rico and promised just as much in challenging Sánchez. Chava was the last, best hope for redemption from uncalled-for affront. It was a simpler, more innocent time in Mexico, before the global village that shares negative habits and attitudes at cyberspeed, before native-born three-time champions climbed onto the world stage arrayed as walking billboards for a pampered bank or airline. All of Latin America held its breath as the two warriors engaged in battle, at the end of which Chava demonstrated irrefutable superiority in every way: he was ruthlessly technical, with a cast-iron jaw and zipping, deadly hands. Gómez was crushed over 8 rounds, the immortal end coming with the brave, battered, bloodied challenger propelled to his left, against the ropes, reaching for the canvas with outstretched arms under Chava's superb firestorm. The beautiful national colors could fly proud: simple justice had been served.

Sal did his fellow Mexican fighters one or two better: he was serene, not just for mindless advance into the fire but for applying solid technical fundamentals to an array of strategies that always resulted in glorious victory. The courage was there, but also the means, against the best in the world. And with the simplicity and humility of his native Santiago Tianguistenco.

For a native son of a land where melodrama can sometimes be a source of solace, Sal's early exit was tragically fitting. ¡Adios, Sal! ¡Adiós, campeón! bled that front page I happened to glimpse as a 14-year-old on a Mexican street, for a second that will forever be etched in my heart. Once again, the long-suffering people had their martyr, their national tragedy, their Mexican hero.

The romanticism of what could have been will forever enshrine Chava. It couldn't be any other way for, among a long parade of true heroes, my favorite Mexican fighter.