Frankie & Tony Baltazar : A Look Back

                         Article posted courtesy of Johnny Gaetano

 

                                        Tony & Frankie Baltazar

It's not altogether incorrect to say the Baltazar brothers cut their teeth in the ring, rather than on one. Frankie began fighting at the age of six, Tony at four. They were, in the various boxing clubs of Los Angeles, preschool pugilists going on kindergarten knockout artists. Small sports in the sweet science.

Good ones, too. Seventeen years ago, when “pee wee” boxing was still in vogue, the Baltazars were tiny stars in a smoke shrouded constellation that included such pungent arenas as the Teamsters Boys Club, the Olympic Auditorium, and the Hollywood Legion Stadium. Crowds of 5,000 or more would watch them and others assail each other with huge pillowed fists, drawing a little blood perhaps, laughs for sure.

It was no doubt an interesting and comic diversion for all, especially then when boxing fans were somewhat jaded by the many local entertainments. But few found it as educational as the Baltazars, who learned lots more than arithmetic during 10 counts.

The Baltazars evidently learned to box, turning their combined 300 bout apprenticeship as amateurs into promising pro careers. Even then they were recognized as talents, Los Angeles matchmaker Don Chargin recalling them as “skilled boxers.” Tutored by Frankie Sr., who first interested his sons in boxing while babysitting them at local gyms, they quickly became skilled pros as well, fixtures on the Los Angeles scene, certain to become more than cute novelties. They were certain, it was said, to become champions.

That hasn't happened. Instead as one career takes off, another sputters. The stardom may yet come as predicted for Tony, a 21 year old lightweight with a heavyweight hook. It may never come at all for Frankie, the elder and more accomplished of the two who has mysteriously faded into the shadow of his brother's success.

Strangely, the careers of the two brothers, who are identical in other respects besides just origin, did not assume parallel lines. Tony's is the rising line on boxing's graph paper. Frankie's the sad parabola. Tony is the up and comer, Frankie, 23, is the up and came back.

It is a sensitive subject in the Baltazar household. It is difficult for Frankie Sr., the father/manager, to glory in Tony's prospects while simultaneously eulogizing Frankie Jr's career. Although they no longer live in the same household, all three work together in a LaPuente auto body garage. Painting cars side by side, it is impossible for them to bask in the promise of a collective and familial boxing success as they used to.

For certain, Tony's potential is there. People who follow boxing in Los Angeles say it's just a matter of time, and not all that much more time, before Tony vaults into the rankings. He's a bomber, a fighter who can neutralize any opponent with a single punch, most often the left hook, a devastating weapon. Though he hasn't been matched with world beaters, his 20-0-1 record is nonetheless impressive. Sixteen of his victories have come by knockout. Only two fights have ever gone as long as 10 rounds.

Frankie Sr, who is far more cautious and sensible than most father/managers, says Tony still has a few things to learn. “But he's not going to learn them by fighting the same guys he has been,” he says. “I'm looking forward to him fighting ranked guys in the lower 10.” He says Tony's timetable calls for a title shot no sooner than 18 months from now.

Tony, who is known as “Tony the Tiger” locally, agrees with his father's strategy. The title shots can wait. “I think I'm ready for some rated fighters,” he says, “but there's no sense taking it too fast.”

That's another thing Tony has learned. He didn't learn it; however, boxing in the pee wees. He learned it watching his brother's career, an equally promising career at the beginning.

Frankie was regarded as the more talented of the two Few had quicker hands or better boxing skills. He was a finesse fighter. And although he had his share of knockout victories-his record at this point is 26-2-1 with 16 kayoes-they were more the result of a relentless attack than a single punch.

Two years ago, it was Frankie's career that was in such steep ascendancy. After winning 24 straight fights, he jumped into the number two spot in the WBC's super featherweight rankings. Then, when champion Alexis Arguello jumped a division, Frankie became an automatic contender, paired with top ranked Bazooka Limon in a title-elimination.

It was happening fast for Frankie. While brother Tony was supporting him in four round bouts on undercards, Frankie was poised to become champion.

Well, poise is maybe the wrong word. Anybody who saw the Baltazar-Limon fight in July 1980 would hesitate in using the word poise, at least in connection with Frankie Jr. Limon, hardly a clever boxer but certainly an effective one, destroyed Frankie that night, flooring him in the first and then chasing him around the ring until he caught him again in the fourth. Frankie Sr., who saw that his son would never reverse the momentum of the fight, threw in the towel.

Since then, Frankie has fought just two times. Both bouts were unimpressive, the last a 10 round decision over Jaime Nava, strictly an opponent.

Tony, who had hoped they could march into stardom together, is still disappointed about what the Limon fight has done to his brother's career.

“After that one loss, his desire seemed shattered,” he says. “If your heart's not in it, and that's what it looks like, you shouldn't be in the ring.” Tony despairs of a comeback. “he says he's still fighting, yet he don't ever train.”

Frankie Jr. admits his career suffered a significant setback in the Limon fight. He admits further it was not a fight he was ready for. “Maybe I wasn't fully mature at that point,” he says. “I was 20 and I guess I was still a kid then, not a man. You have exceptions; unfortunately I wasn't one of them.”

He further confesses he may have been afraid of Limon, a furious fighter with an intimidating style. “I went in there with doubts I could win,” he sas. “Maybe I was afraid of the guy or at least of the situation. The winner would get a title shot, and that's what we’re fighting for. And the guy (Limon) did become champion.”

Those who saw the fight pretty much agree with Frankie. He was afraid. The fear was far all to see, in demeanor and attack. Limon certainly saw the fear, and he dealt a serious punishment to Baltazar. “I was embarrassed,” remembers Frankie.

Frankie Sr, who feels his son lost his confidence as a result of the fight, maybe permanently, says Frankie will try boxing a few more times. “He hasn't been the same fighter since,” he says. “But if he doesn't snap out of it soon, he should get out.

Frankie Sr is not really surprised it's all turning out this way. Frankie Jr has always been a vulnerable sort, a sensitive kid plagued with doubts. Before fights, Frankie would be tense and uncertain. Tony, conversely, “has ice in his veins.”

The father/manager suggests a simple explanation. “Frankie's not a one punch fighter,” he says, “he always had to wear the guy down. Tony just needs one shot at a guys' chin. He's got that confidence in his punch. No matter how the fight's going he knows he can get the guy. Frankie never had that confidence.”

At this point, Tony can afford his confidence. Although he once confided to a reporter that he might reconsider his profession if he felt his good looks were ever imperiled, he is an aggressive fighter who boxes without fear. And why not? He's never lost, never been in trouble. A single punch and the fight is his. Always has been.

Frankie Jr remembers the feeling. He had all that, too. Not that long ago. But it's a fragile thing, that confidence. “I felt the same way,” he says.

He says he still has his confidence but not the same desire. “I'll work out for a week then say, 'What the hell' and not work out anymore,” he says. “But after the holidays I'm going to start pushing myself, really start training.”

Tony wonders about that. He hopes his brother resumes his career, but he wonders. In the meantime, there's that rising line on boxing's graph paper to plot, a line that began in small clubs almost two decades ago and will carry him straight to the top, the left hook willing.

Frankie Jr says, “The guy's ready, what can I say? As far as ability goes, he's got it. But I hope he's learned from me and takes it easy, gets the experience he needs. I thought I was ready once, too. Than look what happened.”

WEBMASTER NOTE: This article was from April 1982 of KO Magazine. It is interesting as it contrasts the temperaments of the two brothers...One cool as ice, the other not so confident, and how their personality types mirrored their fighting styles in the ring. Frankie Jr would campaign sporadically for the next three years before taking four years off. He returned in 1989 and would lose a decision to a then undefeated Eloy Montano. He would take off another two years, fight and win two more times, then hang up the gloves for good. Tony, on the other hand, would campaign until 1994 and return for one more fight in 2002. He couldn't handle slick boxers and lost to Howard Davis, Hector Camacho, and Buddy McGirt. His biggest victory was over Roger Mayweather in 1984. He was in a handful of memorable fights, a stoppage loss to Robin Blake comes to mind as well as the losses to Davis and Camacho. There was a palpable tension when Baltazar wound up with his left hook. He had some serious leg drive behind that left hand.