The Two Feathers Gym, owned by promoter and cutman Willy “Indian” Schunke, sits hidden in an affluent suburb behind a large home atop a hill in Riverside, CA. nearby is a golf course that shoots through the neighborhood. Golf carts filled with retired rich folk cruise the street, the wind blows tranquilly in the quiet of suburban heaven. This is the last place you’d expect to find a heavyweight contender. This is also the last place you’d expect a heavyweight contender to find himself.
On Saturday night at the Home Depot Center in Carson, CA, heavyweight hopeful Chris “the Nightmare” Arreola will continue on his ultimate quest to win the heavyweight quest. In the process, he hopes to win back the trust of fans whose numbers dwindled as the 6’4” Mexican-American’s waistline expanded. Most importantly, Arreola hopes to prove to himself the worth of hard work.
The gym is made of corrugated metal and is guarded by two English bulldogs (Tank and Holmes, named for the deceased pornstar John Holmes) once owned by Arreola and now gifted to Indian. The yard in front of the gym is a bit barren, patches of grass and dirt here and there. The way Tank and Holmes oversized bodies move slowly, snorting and grunting, they resembled the axe carrying guards outside Jabba’s Palace in Return of the Jedi. The wide door gym slowly sliding upwards to fold under the roof only added to the image. But strangely, the fighter who had grown from his early days’ career lows of 229 to a Jabba-like career high of 263 in 2009 against Brian Minto, was nowhere to be found. In his place was a fighter who on Friday’s weigh-in came in at a lean and ready 234 pounds.
“I never say this to another man but you look great,” I told him as the smiling Arreola strode into the gym and greeted myself, our cameraman Brian, Indian and trainer Henry Ramirez.
Arreola removed his shirt and revealed a body he has not had since I started covering him several years back. His face was tight and you could tell just by looking at it that he was in shape. But without a shirt I could see his arms had definition, he no longer had the appearance of breasts from being overweight, and the tire that sat around his waist in recent years was all but gone.
“You kind of have abs,” I remarked.
“I have a nice ass? Thank you,” Arreola joked and he set down to get taped up for the day’s workout.
If there is one thing about Arreola that stands out, beyond his fighting style or his apparent victory in his weight battles, it is his honesty and seeming lack of filter. Many athletes have that public mask or interview voice they put on when going on the record. Not Arreola. He thinks it, he says it and lets the chips fall where they may. The same can be said for his long time (in some cases long suffering trainer) Ramirez. Cameras on or off, recorder on or off, they are two open books.
Arreola’s troubles with weight have never been a secret. At times he has been known to disappear from camp altogether. But their beginnings can be traced to perhaps just after his win in June 2008 over Chazz Witherspoon. He weighed 239 for that fight and looked fast and strong with excellent combinations; a mainstay from his early fighting days as a junior middleweight amateur. But after that fight, which signaled Arreola’s arrival as a contender, the weight began to jump up. Just a few months later he was 259 and ½. The next year, in back to back fights with Travis Walker and Jameel McCline, he weighed in the high 250’s. There were signs of trouble as the hype train for Arreola to fight WBC champion Vitali Klitschko brother moved forward. The fight would end distatrsouly with Arreola losing and being stopped for the first time.
He would return at career high of 263 to stop Brian Minto in December of that year. In 2010, Arreola would hit a new low when he was set to fight Tomasz Adamek, a former light heavyweight and cruiser champ who was now campaigning as a heavyweight. Most everyone favored Arreola to win but again, his fear of success got the better of him and he lost a twelve round majority decision, was relegated to fighting on ESPN as opposed to HBO and left potentially millions on the table.
“In the seven week camp, I honestly probably trained like 3 weeks in total,” admitted Arreola.
Going into the fight, after having Arreola disappear for weeks at a time, Ramirez knew defeat was imminent.
“It was the worst feeling I had going into a fight,’ said Ramirez. “Like I was hoping for the best but deep down I knew we were going to lose. Not because I doubted [Chris] but because I what he didn’t put into training camp. Not that we didn’t tell him but the fight was the furthest thing from his mind. There was so much bullshit going on. We weren’t surprised. I knew if it got to seven, eight rounds, I knew we were done. It was the worst feeling.”
Looking back, Arreola believes the missing camp and the weight gain was a way of giving himself an out. If he did not train 100% and lost, he could always tell himself the opponent did not beat him at his best. And they’d be right.
“It feels real good, it feels great,” said Arreola of his newfound love for training. “You know what, when I wasn’t training, I gave myself an excuse to lose. And now I look back and I do have an excuse. ‘Why’d I lose? Ah, because I didn’t train. I don’t want to have no more excuses like that.”
Not anymore. Especially losing to [Adamak],” said Arreola. “He owes me a gift. He needs to send me something in the mail for me giving him a title shot. I’m waiting on that.”
Following the loss, Arreola returned on ESPN at the Citizens Business Bank Arena in Ontario, CA, a stones thrown from his hometown. Arreola won a twelve round decision but this time he weighed 256 and put in a lackluster effort, leaving the fight bruised around the eyes and with two injured hands. Once again, a lackluster camp nearly proved Arreola’s undoing.
“Fighting Manny Quezada, no offense to him is not a fight that should have lasted twelve rounds,” explained Arreola. “It is not a fight where I should have come out with two black eyes and two fucked up hands. One I’ll give him. That’s it. That happens but two fucked up happens and a black eye? That stuff shouldn’t have ever happened.”
The lack of crowd showed that the audience that once loved his open interview style and devil may give a fuck attitude had grown weary of a man with so much doing so little with it.
“That shit just sucked, dude,” admitted Arreola. “Like I said, no offense to him, just some fights just should have not lasted that long. I am a lot better than what I showed that day. A lot better.”
Following that win, Arreola took the rest of the year off. An intervention of sorts occurred and a plan to partner up with veteran trainer Ronnie Shields in Houston was put into motion. Ramirez reluctantly joined Arreola though the relationship was strained.
“I’ve seen it all,” said Ramirez. “I’ve seen it all with this guy. There were times when I would sit at home and go ‘What the fuck Is wrong with this guy?’ It was just too much. I didn’t want to deal with it anymore. I was like ‘Fuckit. He don’t care. I don’t care.’ At this level, your whole team has to put the effort forth. Trainer, fighter. It hit a point where he was the only one who wasn’t. I was pretty much done. Even before the Ronnie Shields thing. I was telling Wes (Crockett, an associate of Arreola’s manager Al Haymon who discovered Chris) ‘I don’t think this is going to work. He don’t want to work. He don’t want to listen.’ It was a constant uphill battle. When we got to Houston, to be honest, I wasn’t going to go. But Wes said ‘Ride it out. Go to Houston. Couple weeks ain’t going to kill you.’ Went to Houston and at that point we weren’t even talking. We were distant. I’d leave him alone and everything. The Houston thing kind of, we started . . .”
“It rekindled our relationship,” Arreola jumped in with a smile.
Arreola returned in January of 2011 and stopped stay busy opponent Joey Abell in just one round. The best part? Arreola weighed 249 ½ and seemed to have discovered his love for fighting again.
“We started hanging out every day,” said Ramirez. “Going to Houston for three weeks ended up being a positive. It made him realize . . . I knew I wasn’t the problem. I knew he was the problem. I’m not trying to lay blame but with me, the sport has always been first as far as training. After the fight, I said ‘Well, looks like we are going back to Houston.’ And he said ‘Well, let’s see how it goes for a few weeks. If I start fucking off, we’ll just go back. And here we are.”
So what changed?
“Just realizing what I had, what I don’t have. Honestly just looking at the wall in December and knowing I fucked off all of 2010,” said Arreola. “I had fun doing it but I really fucked it off. I won’t lie I had a great time.”
But it had to be more than just that. Perhaps it was the paychecks that once had five zeroes but now had only four. Or maybe it had to do with being the butt of endless fat jokes.
“Oh hell yeah. The zeroes always matter,” said Arreola. “Like, no offense to fighting on ESPN but I am not an ESPN fighter. I know I am not an ESPN fighter. At all. And then before, the comments made didn’t get to me. They’d say “fat dude” I’m like ‘yeah whatever.’ But now they get to me. Now I’m like ‘Hey, I may be fat but I am better than what I was.”
Or maybe turning 30?
“The age doesn’t really matter to me,” said Arreola. “It doesn’t matter. I feel young as shit. But it really is just realizing I don’t have that much time. So I might as well do it while I have it.”
Perhaps it was a shift back to being a dad. Chris has a nine year old daughter who he dotes on.
“You know what? Really honestly, it doesn’t have to do with the family life,” said Arreola. “It has to do with I really don’t give a fuck. Like if I have problems at my house, I’m at the gym, I don’t care. Whatever it is, whatever my problem is, it doesn’t matter because whether I am with somebody or not, I gotta make my money. So either you are going to be with me and we’re going to make money together or you are not going to be with me and I’m going to make and I’m going to have fuckin’ fun. Regardless, I am going to make money. Ain’t nobody going to stop me from making my money.”
Does letting go like that feel good?
“It’s feel great!” said Arreola. “It feels great to just be like You know what? Fuckit.’ No matter what kind of fight I get in at home or what kind of argument I get in with my mom, brother, sister, girlfriend, wife, whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’m at the gym. I have to take care of what I have to take care of.”
Whatever the case, Arreola is refocused, in great shape and ready in his mind and body to face anyone. Along the way, he has fixed a few technique issues and rediscovered what he does best in the ring. One major change Shileds brought about was making Chris pay more attention to being balanced. Before, he used to push his jab and reach with his right hand, leaving him unbalanced and out of position to land anything but an awkward one-two. Now, he has hit hips under him more, balancing him out and leaving him free to let his hands go in the kind of combinations that he used to throw from back in junior middle days to when he was a 230’s size heavyweight prospect.
“[Balance] is one of the things when I was working with him is balance and making sure I followed through with my punches,” said Arreola. “That is one thing I never really thought of is balancing and making sure that I am ready to throw the other punch. I deviated from it and forgot how to do all that stuff. After one training camp, I thought ‘You know what? I can do all that stuff over here. Why the hell am I doing all this shit over there when I know what to do and just do it right. Just take care of it here.”
A big part of the reason Arreola can throw combos is that he no longer has a weight on his back. The day I visited him he was 242 pounds wearing sweaty shorts and socks. His hands were fast, the combos flowed and no longer was he a onw-two, conserve your low energy fighter.
“Yeah and the thing is, I am not a two punch fighter. I like throwing more than one punch,” said Arreola. “But I wasn’t doing it for awhile. Now it’s back to being a combination fighter. It is back to pushing the pace on someone because if they fight at my pace, they can’t. They won’t hang at all. The thing is I have one gear and that’s come forward and just go. Period. There is no reverse. There is no staying in a regular gear and going, going, going, going. ”
In previous camps, Arreola would come in very overweight and spend camp losing weight. Now, after jumping right back into camp after the Abell fight, he started at a reasonable 252 and spent camp working on fight mechanics.
He never left the gym. In addition, he has curbed his normal eating habits.
“It’s like I was at the gym, I didn’t work hard but I’d go play basketball and I didn’t drink. I don’t drink as much as I used to,” said Arreola. “Fast food? No more. [I eat] shit that I cook or when I go to a restaurant I order what I know ain’t fucked up. I’d rather get a good steak or a good piece of chicken than a salad that fuckin’ has bacon and ranch . . .”
And as for those missed camp days?
“Not one day,” said Ramirez.
So where can he go from here should he beat his opponent, the beatable Nagy Aguilera? Not so fast, says Arreola. First things first; win and win well.
“This is not a fight that should last long, either. Period,” said Arreola. “I don’t mean to disrespect anyone. I respect anyone who gets in that ring. But it is a fight I need to win and win convincingly.”
“I think we have a five to seven year run,” said Ramirez. “Look at how many heavyweights are fighting at 35. We’d love a shot at Wladmir [Klitschko] said Ramirez. “We have always felt we would have a better shot with Wladimir but there are still other fights’ a fight with David Haye or Tomasz Adamek after his fight with Vitali.”
Whomever he fights, Arreola acknowledges it cannot be another Nagy Aguilera or Joey Abell. The time to make a move in the division is now.
“Of course. I have to step up in class,” said Arreola. “I want to prove myself and I want to fight one of European fighters to show that us Americans, we are a force to reckoned with, at least speaking for myself. I need to show people that I am a fucking force to be reckoned with. My two losses were to European fighters. One of them, I should have never lost to Adamek. I can’t stand that shit. He got a title shot because I gave it to him.”
Arreola expressed an interest in fighting a European fighter in particular.
“Povetkin at least he fought Chambers and Bird. And Helenius beat up old Sam Peter,” said Arreola. “I don’t call nobody out but I would love to fight somebody like that. Somebody they say is one of their best Europeans. Either one of them or [Denis] Boytsov or whoever it is. As far as me and a title fight or who I am fighting next, it could be Haye or Wlad, it does not matter who it is. It could Haye, Wlad or Vitali. Any of them. It doesn’t matter who has a title. I want it. It’s mine. That’s the main thing.”
In the meantime, how long does Arreola think it will take for the criticism and fat jokes to die down?
“It will be my whole career from now,” said Arreola of the constant weight jokes and criticism over his work ethic. “It has to be. It is going to be a constant thing with me. And it is going to be a constant battle within me, too. I love food. I’m not going to lie. That’s my weakness. It’s not beer because I can stop drinking. I don’t give a fuck about beer. But food is just . . . that’s my vice. I love food. There ifs, ands, or buts about it. But then again, if I want to treat boxing the way I feel about boxing, I have to act the part and be the part of a champion. Be the part of an athlete. After I retire I can balloon and be like Ricky Hatton. Except for the drugs.”
For now, it is all about maintaining this healthy streak and winning. Consistency is key.
“I think the heavyweight division, it’d about to get exciting,” said Arreola.
Source http://www.secondsout.com/
No comments:
Post a Comment