Oscar de la Hoya. The name has become a fixture in boxing terminology; the embodiment of success, wealth and power, though not acquired through the seedy exploitations of a Don King. De La Hoya’s accolades came first from his insistent courage as a fighter, and later the demonstration of business acumen in dispersing his accumulated wealth upon an industry one senses he might seize and command long into retirement. Opportunities, like the doors of exclusive establishments that shun so many, open with an ease suggesting that his very presence is a universal credit card. However, De La Hoya does not hold the monopoly on time, and its quickening ascent signals the nearing end of his career. What more of De La Hoya’s legacy can he decide with his own fists, or will it be decided for him?

Despite his unprecedented success, an adoring public, and the knowledge that the boxing industry needs him much more than he any longer needs it, not all that is Golden Boy glitters of late. Money can accomplish much, but it could not purchase the undisputed middleweight championship from Bernard Hopkins, nor can it quiet the incessant doubts surrounding De La Hoya’s gift decision against Felix Sturm.

If he were a gambling man, De La Hoya would have bet the house on coasting the final rounds against Felix Trinidad, the virtue of the right hand against Mosley when everyone expected the left. And De La Hoya wouldn’t have expected that in the rematch, he himself would end up with the short end of the olive branch he extended to Mosley.

Vanity has always proven to be De La Hoya’s favorite sin, but he is not without a degree of humility to temper it. After losing to Trinidad, the conveniently accommodating WBC was quick to offer their title, vacated by Trinidad, to De La Hoya for the paltry undertaking of beating Derrell Coley.

Of course, Coley fell in seven, but De La Hoya insisted on discontent until he had vindicated himself against Mosley. Likewise, instead of reveling in the achievement of a sixth world championship in as many weight classes, De La Hoya stood dejected and offered nothing of a rebuttal to the bewilderment of Sturm.

De La Hoya has accomplished more than most would dare to dream, but beyond that knowledge, the joys of fatherhood, his many luxuries and the potential grasp of his growing promotional empire, vanity will not go unfed. Unable to remedy the truth of retiring upon a defeat and without a championship, De La Hoya’s twenty month ring hiatus ends this May.

Of course, being Oscar de la Hoya means not having to yield to the time-consuming task of earning a sufficient ranking to warrant a title shot. By the time of the fight, De La Hoya will not have enjoyed a win of any consequence for three years. Yet where he goes, so follows a trail of money impossible for his opponents to earn or the industry to generate elsewhere. Unsurprisingly, the WBC chose to turn a blind eye to De La Hoya’s inactivity, installing him as Mayorga’s number-one contender.

It is a fight once mooted as part of De La Hoya’s final farewell tour, granting him the acquisition of yet another championship before the arrangement of one last performance on the big stage. However, in this case, the stepping stone is proving to be more treacherous than expected.

Mayorga. The name holds connotations closer to Tony Montana than that of a prizefighter. Fictional he may be, but “Scarface’s” empire crumbled as quickly as did Mayorga’s. And don’t tell me you cannot imagine Mayorga brawling his way through customs before putting his cigarette out on the nearest bystander and marching his way towards infamy.

Unlikely as it was, Mayorga’s rise to power was no work of fiction. Perhaps it came at a time when the fight game, zealous to recover past glories, was too quick to deify its champions and newest sensations. But there was a certain appeal in Mayorga. He was a caricature that fight fans were keen to buy into: the reckless, swaggering braggadocio as likely to murder opponents with his evil predictions as his punches.
His first significant victim was Guyana’s Andrew Lewis, whom survived less than seven rounds with Mayorga, but lost all of his “Six Heads.”

Beating Shane Mosley made Vernon Forrest as quick to anoint himself as any fight fan could have been. Having signed a six-fight HBO contract, Forrest found Mayorga’s intervention less than divine, the displeasure of which Forrest is still struggling to rectify to this day.

Through it all, Mayorga’s pre-fight taunts were dismissive and comical. Then he signed to fight Cory Spinks to unify the welterweight championships. References to Spinks’ deceased Mother crossed an acceptable boundary. The morbid cynicism of Mayorga’s vocabulary introduced an unwelcome element to the proceedings, precluding moral support, and persuading many to greet his eventual downfall with satisfaction.

There are very few seats left on the Golden Boy gravy train, yet rather than accept his seven-figures with appreciation, Mayorga’s taunting tongue is as venomous as ever.

It is a long time since Oscar de la Hoya was spoken to in such a fashion. Regarding De La Hoya with pure disdain, Mayorga has made attempts to eviscerate all that De La Hoya has built and become. In the slanderous Spanish no longer practiced solely by Erik Morales, Mayorga has insulted De La Hoya’s wife, hurled homosexual accusations, and suggested that De La Hoya is a faded fighter unable to represent his own people.

Wealthy individuals enamored with fine cuisine will quickly grow bored with repetitive culinary offerings, soon venturing into the exotic and unusual to fulfill their needs. Likewise, in boxing, what do you give the man who has everything? Ricardo Mayorga gave De La Hoya a slap, turning what began as a routine assignment for De La Hoya into a mission.

De La Hoya might have remained unmoved by Mayorga’s words and might have purposely chosen to use them as fuel. But amongst the barrage of insults and expletives, there lies a truth or two that De La Hoya cannot simply brush aside.

Of Mexican-American descent, De La Hoya craves the respect of the Mexican fight fans who have long denied him because of the dilution of his blood. Furthermore, due to his failures and disappointments in recent years, plus lingering allegations throughout certain sectors that he purposely stayed down against Bernard Hopkins, it is unclear how favorably mainstream boxing supporters view him. Gleefully, Mayorga echoes these undeniable detractions.

The challenge before De La Hoya is no longer to simply win the championship, out-pointing the man who holds it, but to humiliate and destroy him. Mayorga represents the unrestrained expression of the sentiment felt by many fight fans: does the fire still burn inside Oscar de la Hoya?

Can De La Hoya reach inside of himself and rediscover the monster that bludgeoned Julio Cesar Chavez; the machine that withstood Fernando Vargas’ steroid-enhanced Aztec Warrior before condemning him to the ground?

Yes?

Then Nicaragua’s perennial master at biting off more than he can chew will retire with a gut-full, and boxing will have witnessed another glamour night punctuated by an Oscar-winning performance. And with Mayorga consigned to memory, you needn’t stare long into the crystal ball to discover the Golden Boy gravy train’s final destination.

The “Golden Boy” versus the “Pretty Boy” is the biggest fight boxing has left, and there isn’t enough stubbornness in De La Hoya and Bob Arum combined to prevent it from happening.

Of course, my dramatic tendencies would love to see the plot thicken with further hostilities between De La Hoya’s Golden Boy Promotions and Arum’s Top Rank heightening the spiteful atmosphere existing between them.

Of the many possibilities open to Floyd Mayweather, Jr., there is that of Shane Mosley, whose current dealings with De La Hoya center on corporate cooperation rather than counter-punching. Imagine Mosley sent forth like an emissary bearing the Golden Boy banner. And if defeated, consider Arum’s satisfaction at Mayweather dispensing with one of De La Hoya’s generals. Meanwhile, De La Hoya’s vanity is inflamed with the increasing sense that his reputation, his company and his career are under siege.

Of course, De La Hoya’s drawing power would remain the sharpest bargaining tool of all. Mayweather is the world’s finest boxer, but his participation in two pay-per-view headline slots failed to produce buy-rates comparable to that of De La Hoya’s fledgling efforts. However, what they might achieve together is astonishing to consider.

HBO would throw money from gold-plated, diamond encrusted buckets at the fight between two former Olympians that progressed through and won titles in the same divisions before arriving for a confrontation at their optimum weight. They are also comparable in stance, age, height, reach and their innate need to burn their respective names into the pages of history.

And can you ever recall a fight of this magnitude, in which a father estranged from his son, such as Floyd Mayweather, Sr. is to Floyd junior, would take place with the father that claims to this day to have taught his son all he knows, in the opposite corner advising and strategizing on how best to beat his own flesh and blood?

Floyd Mayweather, Jr. cannot learn De La Hoya’s humility, nor can he retract the public controversies that have besmirched his image over the years. He cannot make us appreciate him as a man as we appreciate him as a fighter; but he can take the torch from De La Hoya in the greatest fight that boxing may see for decades to come.

It is a fight capable of rerouting the ever-advancing course of history, full of drama intensity and sacrifice. Which era will fail, and which will endure; what is to be lost or gained and by whom are stories worthy of the legends of old destined to unfold in our time.

Contact Jim Cawkwell at jimcawkwell@yahoo.co.uk