Farewell, Richie Sandoval, A Gentleman And A Role Model

Everyone knew Richie was good. But not that good. Suddenly, boxing had a bright star on its hands. He was given a hero’s welcome home, though Richie never acted like a big shot. Always humble, down to earth, and accessible, Sandoval was as good of a role model as there could be for young fellow Californians like Paul Gonzales, Oscar De La Hoya, and Shane Mosley, who also hailed from Pomona.

You might even say that, without Richie, there would’ve been no Golden Boy or Sugar Shane. He set the table for the big things that would come a decade or so later. His win over Chandler was one of the biggest upsets of the 1980s.

But the ride didn’t last forever. In fact, it never really got started.

He fought five more times, but only two of those were title defenses. He was having trouble making 118 pounds, so he fought three straight nontitle fights that kept him busy, but it didn’t do much for his career. He’d fallen off the radar. He needed a big fight to get him back into the conversation, so he decided to make one more defense of his bantamweight title before moving up to 122 pounds for good.

It ended up being a big mistake.

Getting bigger, Sandoval was reportedly 12 pounds over the bantamweight limit just weeks before the first bell against Laredo, Texas tiger Gaby Canizales, a fierce Duran lookalike who’d given Chandler a good rumble earlier in the decade. He somehow made the weight but was a ghost of himself in the ring. In the best performance of his career, Canizales hammered Sandoval through seven ugly rounds. He dropped him five times, the last of which seemed to cause a seizure. If not for the quick-acting doctors and paramedics, Sandoval’s life would’ve ended right then and there.

He never fought again. His promoter, Bob Arum of Top Rank, gave him a public relations job to ensure he’d never fight again. Even Arum, rarely rattled by anything in boxing, was shaken by Sandoval’s near-fatal injury. But the damage was done. No longer the young, spry athlete of 1984, Sandoval reportedly struggled the rest of the way. He died Sunday, a fighter to the end but one who was ready for the next phase. He’d been fighting for a long time.

Farewell, Richie Sandoval. You set the table for others, behaved like a gentleman always, and brought good news to your hometown and the boxing world. You did something with your 63 years, and nobody will forget it.

Matthew Aguilar may be reached at maguilarnew@yahoo.com