A Kid Named Lopez . . .

By Rick Farris

I'm having a lot of fun volunteering my time Mon-Wed-Fri. nights to my friend Steve Harpst's boxing club in Burbank.
He's got a good group kids and it's fun for me to workout with them, and do some teaching.

Today I met a skinny kid about eleven or twelve.
The boy was bouncing around, attempting to get his feet under him, just starting out.

On the back of his white t-shirt the name "Lopez" was written across the back with a felt pen.
He was a real quiet kid. "Still waters run deep" crossed my mind

I helped he kid with his balance, got him throwing a jab.
The boy had a serious look out of eyes, he wasn't a silly kid. There was an unusual maturity to the boy.
Something told me his eyes had seen a lot in his young life. Just a feeling I had.

When I finished working with the kid, I asked Steve about the boy. What he knew about him?
"His dad was a fighter," Steve informed me. "Have you ever heard of Hector Lopez?"

Hector Lopez? Oh yes, I knew of Hector Lopez, a helluva prospect in the 80's.
Hector was a Glendale kid that had been born in Mexico.
Before the '84 Olympics, Lopez was a good amateur, but USA Boxing team politics would work against him making the U.S. Olympic Team.
What did he do? He went back to Mexico and he made the Mexican Olympic Team.
He came to Los Angeles, his hometown, repping Mexico in the Olympics and won a silver medal.

There were a lot of pro offers and Lopez had great potential, and a style that resembled that of former champ, Salvador Sanchez.
However, there would be bumps in his road to success. He would have a violent domestic history and serve time in State Prison.
Whe he came out, he was covered with tattoos and anxious to get back into boxing.

I met Hector in 1986, when he was training at the original Ten Goose Gym in North Hollywood.
He was sparring with Goossen's lightweight, a guy named Walter Smith.
From that point on, after prison, Hector Lopez's potential was long gone. He became a club fighter and eventually disappeared.

I told the boy I thought his father was a helluva a fighter.
A look of sadness crossed his face, he shrugged his shoulders, "I guess?", the boy answered.
Something told me this was not a good subject. I then remember the domestic issues, there was a gun involved.

"OK son, grab a jump rope" I tell him.
You could see the look of the father in the son, nice looking kid, curly hair just like the old man had.
In the beginning, you build the foundation, once it's solid, you add the rest. First things first.