Armando “Mando” Ramos was all that in the middle 1960’s and early 70’s. He thrilled West Coast fans and became the youngest man in history to win the lightweight championship of the world.

But…it’s a cautionary tale.

As a child in Long Beach, California, Mando didn’t look like he had a bright athletic future… or any future at all. “I was even born anemic;” he said, “the docs didn't think I'd even live. I didn't do well in school; I had ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) but they didn't know what that was back then. I always had to move, had to go. Even today, I'll be trying to do a few things at once, like shaving and getting dressed at the same time. My wife will have to say, “Hey, slow down!”

Mando and his older brother, Manuel, learned to box from their father, Ray, a former pro. “My dad was real hard on me and my brother,” Mando said. I started to box as soon as I could walk.”

“Me and my dad would bicycle from Long Beach to Santa Monica when I was training. If we had to do it all over again, we would have done a lot of hiking and backpacking instead".

"A lot of people think Jackie (McCoy) made me,” Ramos went on, “but he didn't. My pop taught me most of what I knew. My dad was an alcoholic… always yelling at my mom… I started drinking at eleven. I thought that was the way to live, drinking.”

When the brothers weren’t in school or working in their grandmother’s restaurant, they were in the gym.

"I got into a lot of fights in school. Every new kid that came to school, I would fight him. I had hundreds of street fights and won just about all of 'em. I got jumped lots of times in the street when guys knew I was a fighter. Once, three guys with steel pipes jumped me on Long Beach. We had one hell of a fight that must have went on for a half hour. I was finally able to flatten all three."

"I used to go to the Olympic as a kid, and when I started fighting, I would get in free.”

"My favorite fighter ever was Sugar Ray Robinson. I used to watch him fight on TV, and I loved the way he jabbed to the body and hooked to the head. I practiced that combination endlessly. He knocked out Gene Fullmer with the greatest punch of all time, a perfect left hook."

Brash and boastful, with a roguish smile, Mando didn’t believe there was a man alive that could beat him. When he saw then lightweight champion Carlos Ortiz working out at a gym in L.A., he told his father-“Get me a fight with him, dad, and I’ll kick his ass!”

Ramos turned pro at 17, managed by McCoy, and ran off 17 straight wins before dropping a decision to Kang IL Suh.

“I sold out the Olympic for the first time in the Baby Salazar fight,” Ramos said. “Eileen Eaton (the promoter) was a nice, but tough lady. Jackie would get 40 percent of my purses, my dad would get 33 and a third percent and I'd get what was left over. I didn't care. I was young and just wanted to party. I was caught up in the fast lane.”

A couple of more W’s followed before his good friend, nails-tough Frankie Crawford, decisioned him in a hotly-contested ten rounder at the Olympic Auditorium -- the Mecca of L.A. boxing at the time.

Ramos was tall for a lightweight -- 5’11-- and boyishly handsome -- a Latin matinee idol. He had fanatical fans, particularly females. His fights regularly sold out the Olympic.

Fans packed the Olympic for the re-match with Crawford. This time Ramos played the matador to the Crawford’s bull -- brilliantly out-boxing and out-thinking the Irishman to get a lopsided unanimous decision.

Crawford was as quick with his fists in the street as he was in ring, and he was shot in the back in a bar fight in Vegas.

"Frankie Crawford and I were friends for a long time, Ramos recalled.” After Frankie got shot, I was going to move near him so I could be closer to him and help him, as he was paralyzed.”

“Once…he disrespected me and called me every dirty name in the book for no reason. I got up to leave and said, "You've just lost a friend". Frankie shot himself to death not too long afterwards, as he couldn't go on like that, paralyzed and all. He had too much pride.

Ramos followed the Crawford win with a non-title victory over WBC Super Featherweight Champion, Hiroshi Kobayashi in L.A.

Mando was blessed with equal power from the left or right side, could box or slug, and had that unique gift of being able to switch from orthodox to southpaw and attack from angles.

He would bound around the ring like a gazelle, jabbing with the left, crossing his right, doubling up with hooks to the body and head, finishing with a right and sliding out of range.

He electrified Angelino fans with his talent, Corazon and macho -- his willingness to mix-it-up, not just peck away from the outside, taking advantage of his height and reach.

“Mando had more natural athletic ability and potential than any fighter I have seen in my many years of covering boxing,” said Bill O’Neill, former Boxing Illustrated West Coast feature writer. “I have known him since he was seventeen-years-old,” O’Neill continued, “and to look at the kid fight, you knew you were watching someone who was really special. I knew he would win the lightweight championship of the world someday soon. It wasn’t a matter of if he would win it, it was a matter of when.”

Almost everyone who saw the fight between Ramos and world lightweight king Carlos “Teo” Cruz thought that “when” was the night of September 27, 1968. Ramos held the upper hand through most of the fierce action; but the judges were more influenced by Cruz’s flashy overhand rights than Ramos’ more persistent work rate. They gave Cruz a unanimous decision.

“I really beat the guy the first time around,” said Mando. “It just made me that much more determined to work harder and get him back in the ring again.” Two wins later, Ramos was re-matched with Cruz on February 18, 1969 at the Coliseum in L.A.

Ramos left nothing to chance this time. Instead of pulling back from Cruz’s’ overhand rights, he ducked inside them, raking the Dominican’s body and head with brutal left hooks. Cruz was badly cut and reduced to a punching bag when the referee rescued him in the 11th round. The joint went ballistic when they announced Ramos as the new lightweight king.

"My biggest thrill was winning the lightweight title from Cruz, and being the youngest man ever to win the lightweight title, Ramos said. “I have the very last original Ring Championship Belt. I've been offered a hundred thousand dollars for it, but haven't parted with it. That's how much it means to me."

It signaled a new era in the lightweight division. Ramos was rich, famous, and had unlimited potential – but he also was addicted to alcohol. It started innocently enough, sneaking drinks from his grandmother’s restaurant. The alcohol led to marijuana, and the marijuana, ultimately, to heroin.

In spite of the booze and the horse, Ramos was such a natural; he was still an elite fighter. “I was always having to cut weight …. That puts a terrible strain on a young growing body,” he said. “I was exceptionally tall for my weight division, and that made it all the much more harder for me to hit 135. I’m not justifying my substance abuse, but the booze and the drugs helped me to relax and forget the pain, temporarily.”

A big fight with former world super featherweight champion Yoshiaki Numata was next. Numata fought well in the early going before Ramos’ left hooks flattened him in the sixth round.

In his next title defense against Panamanian Ismael Laguna, Laguna butted, elbowed, and laced his way to a ninth-round TKO win and took Ramos’ title.

“That was among the worst jobs of refereeing I’ve ever seen,” noted Bill O’Neill. “Mando had Laguna on the way out of there with body shots,” O’Neill continued, “and then Laguna got dirty. Referee Lee Grossman let him get away with everything. The rulebook was thrown out the window. Laguna was a good, but dirty fighter.”

“I had been doing ‘whites’ while training for him, to make weight,” Ramos admitted. “I had him going with body shots. I was gonna knock him out but Jackie stopped it as I had five cuts and he couldn't stop the bleeding. I got him back by hitting him in the cup a few times, though. Laguna would never fight me again.”

Ramos rebounded with three huge wins over Sugar Ramos, Raul Rojas, and Ruben Navarro…and then lost on a disqualification for the vacant WBC Lightweight Title to Pedro Carrasco, in his home town, Madrid, Spain, after flooring Carrasco four times.

“The day I was to go to Spain for the fight, I had been strung out on cocaine, and my dad said, ‘Where have you been? We have to leave for Spain today!’ I didn't care at the time, man; I just wanted to get high. I was having a good time with the women and drugs."

"The first fight with Carrasco, I was disqualified for pushing. That was B-S and highway robbery. I beat him twice after that. Carrasco died a few years ago…too bad, he was a good fighter.”

"My toughest fight ever was with Sugar Ramos. I smoked a joint the morning of the fight, thinking this was an old guy and I'd take him out easy. I almost had him out in the first round, but had nothing left after that. Karl, as a former fighter yourself, you know that is the most terrible feeling in the world. We had one hell of a bloody fight, and that guy could really hit. I kept hitting him and hitting him and he kept coming back for more. I got the decision in a brutal fight."

Ramos was burning the candle at both ends and in the middle. “I had a beautiful wife at home, and a beautiful baby boy. My priorities were messed up then. I was more interested in getting high and scoring as many chicks as I could … rather than being a good husband to my wife, and, more importantly, a good father to my son, Mando Jr.”

Ramos continued to party -- even making Mr. Blackwell’s top ten list of the worst dressed celebrities. “I thought that was real funny,” Ramos smiled.

Laguna was unwilling to fight Ramos again, and a match with Ken Buchanan fell through -- so Ramos took on the seemingly harmless Chango Carmona on September 15, 1972 at the L.A. Coliseum. Ramos’s life style caught up with him. Carmona should have been nothing more than a sparring partner. He stopped Ramos in the eighth round.

It was the end of the big time and big money for Ramos. He won and lost against nondescript competition and hung up the gloves for good after losing to one Wayne Beale in Vegas in 1975.

"I was a cocky kid as champ, and I could be a real wiseass as well,” Ramos admitted. “I thought I had all the answers. It wasn't until years later that I told Jackie McCoy: "Jack, I realized one thing since I retired from the ring: I'm not as smart as I thought I was." He said, "Mando...you're just getting smart."

Ramos continued to get high, though, and shoot up, but McCoy got his old protégé a job on the Long Beach waterfront after Mando hung’em up.

"Jackie died of a broken heart after his wife passed away,” Ramos recalled, sadly. “He couldn't go on anymore and decided to die. His heart was literally broken".

"Me and former welterweight champion Don Jordan ended up working on the docks together. Don was another guy managed by Jackie…and he was a nice fellow, once you knew him. He got jumped by a few guys on the docks in a robbery and was beaten to death when he was in his 60’s. One thing about Jordan: He went out swinging."

"Once the big money was gone, and I was broke, clubs and restaurants that used to give me free drinks when I was champion 86'd me out of their places."

Mando’s older brother Junior died in his arms of a heroin overdose. It was the only thing that got through to him. Mando quit the junk for good. He went through terrible withdrawal symptoms kicking heroin and alcohol. He’s been drug free since 1983.

It’s been my privilege to know Mando and his wife Sylvia for the past several years. Every ex-fighter should have a friend like Mando. He’s generous to a fault with former fighters down on their luck.

“Well…that’s one of the reasons why boxing needs a union today,” says Mando. Other sports have it. “We need a union to take care of these guys who have no insurance, no job opportunities, and think they have no hope”.

“The Longshoremen’s Union took care of me after I injured my back”. Mando suffered a debilitating back injury years ago while working on the docks, and is in almost constant pain today. He has had several major surgeries on his back.

Ramos has also started Boxing Against Alcohol and Drugs, B.A.A.D. “We go to the schools and set up boxing programs where the kids can not only fight, but referee and time-keep, as well. It’s a great deterrent against gangs, and the kids love it”.

“My wife and I got to talking about all the things I had missed while I was drinking,” Mando said. Alcoholism is an emotional cancer, and it can ruin you financially as well”.

Mando has found inner peace, and is an inspiration to his friends in the union and boxing. He still keeps close ties with fellow champions Bobby Chacon and Carlos Palomino, and actor Ryan O’Neal.

“I still see Danny “Little Red” Lopez often…he is doing construction work. He recently was re-united with brother Ernie, after years of separation”. Another celebrity that Mando sees is distinguished actor and director Edward James Olmos. “Whenever I see Eddie, he always walks right up to me and says………….’Pound for Pound!’

Mando remains the most popular fighter in L.A. history, and is looked up to by fellow Californians Oscar De La Hoya and Fernando Vargas. “Fernando is a good kid,” Ramos said. “I actually took one of the fighters in my program to Oxnard years ago, and he beat Vargas in the amateurs”.

"I've known De La Hoya since he was eight-years-old and I knew he would lose to Hopkins. I won some money on that fight. Oscar is more interested in his career and his TV show than he is in boxing. He's not hungry anymore."

"Hopkins is a great fighter. Him and Carlos Monzon would have been one hell of a fight. I hung out with Carlos in Paris, France. As great as Bernard is, I'd give the edge to Monzon. He was a brilliant boxer. I would have loved to have fought two guys: Chavez and Arturo Gatti. I would have beaten either one of them."

"Thanks to all of you guys at FightBeat for remembering about me. I was ranked pound for pound, by some experts, as the best in boxing for a couple of years, just like the movie "American Me" said. The movie was set in the late 60's and early 70's, which was my heyday. I was the Oscar De La Hoya of my time … and I am grateful for all of the people and fans I have met, and also the ones I haven't. I was only on top for three years, and I was never really in shape. All the damn drugs. All the cocaine…I did love the cheers of the crowd, though.

I definitely heard lots of them, brother."

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Epilogue

After writing this, I took a look at boxing magazines I’d saved since childhood to re-read about Mando. He was big as life on the faded pages of the Ring, Boxing Illustrated, World Boxing, International Boxing, and Big Book of Boxing.

Over 30 years ago…it went by so fast.

One can’t live in the past; I just have a hard time letting go. I took a drive past my old gym. It had been torn down. In its place was a new racquet club filled with young girls doing aerobics.

There were still pieces of the old Youth Center where I’d learned to box in the back of the warehouse. The custodian allowed me to look around.

Youthful giggles and tennis balls bouncing back and forth now replaced the sound of speed bags, skipping ropes, heavy bags, and the grunts of punching.

Among the items in a storage area in the back being sold for scrap was a sign: “Boxing Tuesday through Friday: 6 PM to 9 PM Saturdays 12 to 2 Gym Dues due the first of every Month”

Much has changed since then. It was a simpler time – magical for boxing. The magazines bring it back, all too fleetingly. Spending time with Mando Ramos brings it back vividly. It’s difficult for him to get around now, but he’ll always be center ring at the Olympic for me.

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Armando “Mando” Ramos became the first Latin boxer to be inducted into the World Boxing Hall of Fame in Los Angeles, California.