I first met Mando in January or February of 1976. It was at the Main Street Gym in Los Angeles during the filming of Rocky. He was literally at the end of his career as a boxer having fought his last fight just a few months earlier. I had not yet had a fight. To say that I was in awe of Mando would be an understatement. Yet he took the time to talk with me. He treated me as an equal. He talked about making a comeback, fighting as a middleweight. At that time he still saw a future for himself in boxing. As it turns out, he never fought again. I saw him twice over the years. I have a personally autographed photo given to me by him. I did not know Mando well enough to call him friend, nor could I say that I was an acquaintance of his. I met him and that was good enough. Mando and I will forever share the same scene in Rocky.
Mando was home cooking, he was mama's homemade tortillas or tacos, a bowl of menudo, enjoyed
crudo from the night before, he was a cruise down Whittier Blvd in East L.A. He wasn't simply like us, he was us,
puro Chicano. He could have been our cousin, our brother. He was family. We shared his success and his failures. He made the same mistakes in life we made. We understood him.
As much as; Cesar Chavez and the United Farm Workers, Ruben Salazar and the Chicano Moratorium, Rodolfo "Corky" Gonzales and the Chicano Manifesto, Carlos Santana and any of his music, Edward James Olmos as El Pachuco in Zootsuit or it’s writer and director Luis Valdez, or author Victor Villasenor, Armando "Mando" Ramos was a Chicano icon. He was our gladiator, our champion. Like Hector, Prince of Troy, he stepped into the arena to do battle with his fists. He gave us a reason to stand a little taller. In “American Me” the 1992 movie starring Edward James Olmos, Olmos pays homage to Mando Ramos when his character, Montoya Santana says this about Mando "Hey vatos; Do you know who the best fighter in the world is pound for pound? Hands down, vatos, hands down! Los jabs, los hooks, los uppercuts...Mando Ramos!" Olmos spoke for all of us.
With respect to those that came before him, and to those that would come after, there was no more popular and beloved fighter to come out of the Los Angeles area. It didn't matter if you were from San Pedro. East Los Angeles, Santa Ana, the San Fernando Valley or the San Gabriel Valley, or Pico Rivera, he was ours, he was us. Maybe that’s what endeared him to us. He didn’t march down the street in the parade of life waving to us, though he could have, instead he sat in the bleachers with us watching the parade. I honestly believe that God has all of us where we belong. For Mando, though he did not know it at the time, boxing was not an end but a means to an end. Because of his life with alcohol and drugs, and because he had succumbed to temptation early in his life, and learned from it, he was able to help other young men and boys who were dealing with many of the same problems. He founded Boxers Against Alcohol and Drugs. He became known as Mr. BAAD. That was his calling, that is where God wanted him to be. It says a lot about Mando, and maybe even more about his wife Sylvia, that at the time of his death, they had been married thirty two years.
Because they shared the moniker “the Golden Boy”, Art Aragon and Oscar De La Hoya have often been compared, but in many ways Oscar’s career was closer to Mando’s. tall for their weight, boyish good looks, charming personalities, a golden smile and tons of ability, including a left hook. As much as I am a fan of De la Hoya, and I am, in Los Angeles, not even he could fill the Olympic Auditorium like Mando. With Mando, it’s hard not to ask the question “What if?” It’s no secret that Mando would rather party than train. It’s also no secret that he fought many of his fights while high, either on booze or drugs. So you have to wonder just how good Mando really was and just how great he might have been. Roberto Duran and Mando Ramos were, more or less contemporaries, so it’s not inconceivable that at some point in time they would have met. That fight alone is worth grieving for. Mando came of age as a boxer and as a man, just before, cable, pay per view, and the million dollar paydays. Who knows what might have been?
Mando began his professional career, under the guidance of trainer Jackie McCoy, with a five round decision win over a fighter named Berlin Roberts on November 18, 1965 at the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles. He ended his career with a second round knockout loss to Wayne Beale on October 29, 1975 at the Silver Slipper in Las Vegas, Nevada. In between he took us on a roller coaster ride as he became the youngest fighter to win the lightweight title. The first time against Teo Cruz on February 18, 1969. Three years to the date he won the title again, this time from Pedro Carrasco on February 18, 1972. Along the way, and on a roller coaster career filled with moments of happiness, sorrow and regret, he fought the likes of Hiroshi Kobayashi, Frankie Crawford, Ismael Laguna, Sugar Ramos, Raul Rojas, Ruben Navarro, Chango Carmona and Tury Pineda. He ended his career with 49 fights, 37 wins with 23 knockouts, 11 losses, 6 by knockout and 1 draw. Win, lose or draw, Mando Ramos fought all his fights with heart. What more could we have asked of him. Mando Ramos passed away this past Sunday morning at his home in San Pedro, California. he was 59. The cause of death is still to be determined.
Pues, hay te watcho, Mando.
Mando Ramos vs Sugar Ramos...1970
Mando with Tony, Bobby and Frankie Baltazar
Photo by Ethan Miller/Getty Images
