by David P. Greisman
He was loved because of his name — Julio Cesar Chavez Jr., the son of the Mexican legend, the namesake of a man who was a world titleholder in three divisions and the true lineal champion in two, a Hall of Famer, an all-time great, a national icon and an inspiration to a generation of fighters. They would follow Junior because of who he was, or rather because of who his father was to them.
He was derided because of his name as well, a son who never could follow in his father’s formidable footsteps but who would be compensated well anyway, receiving opportunities and paydays that never would have been available to another boxer with the same skill level and a different bloodline. He would be afforded attention but not respect, seen as a child of privilege who would take full advantage of status that didn’t match his stature.
The reality, as it often does, lies somewhere in-between.
Chavez Jr. became more than a novelty. His stint as a world titleholder was dubious, but he was a legitimate contender, even if a limited one. He achieved more than had ever been expected of him. In more than a decade as a pro, he had demonstrated more grit and talent than many other sons who take to the ring after their famous fathers, kin who often lace up the gloves to cash in rather than doing so out of passion.
He also manipulated the system when possible and reaped the benefits of a sport that loved Senior and lusted for the money that could be made with Junior.
The title shot? That may never have come if not for the name.
Chavez Jr. could throw his weight around, figuratively and literally. He kept raising the limits for his first fight with Bryan Vera so that he could drop less for the scales and show up bigger and stronger in the ring. He could get away with it because he was a star, the person who pulled in ratings on the networks and sold tickets in arenas. Much of that, too, was because of the name.
The name wouldn’t always be enough. Nearly every fighter who is honest with himself will be held to account in the ring, facing a challenge that cannot be overcome.
The name got Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. a pay-per-view main event in a packed Las Vegas arena against middleweight champion Sergio Martinez. It would not give him victory.
The name kept Chavez around afterward. He was the A-side against Andrzej Fonfara this past Saturday, headlining on Showtime in a bout that could’ve potentially landed him a shot at the 175-pound champ, Adonis Stevenson. The name and the star power and money that came with it got Fonfara to agree to a 172-pound catch-weight.
Fonfara was too big for Chavez, but he was also much better, an experienced light heavyweight who had been in battles with those stronger and more skilled than Chavez. Fonfara won most of the first nine rounds, sent Chavez to the canvas in the ninth and made him quit in his corner afterward.
The fans in attendance booed, perhaps because they didn’t know that it was Chavez himself who asked for the bout to be over, or perhaps because they’d had enough disappointment. Junior could never be Senior, but they still wanted more from him than this.
Again, the reality lies somewhere in-between. Chavez took on a difficult challenge in Fonfara, who himself is limited but legit. Chavez was not the best at 160. He had no track record at 168 beyond a rematch win over Vera. He had hoped the 172-pound catch-weight would sap Fonfara’s strength and lessen his size advantage. Chavez had needed to worry about that, because for so long he had been the bigger man in the ring, That would no longer be the case.
But he’d also never learned the lessons he should’ve taken from the past. He thought he could manipulate the system, fight as he always had, and win as he’d done before. He was wrong.
Chavez was a scrawny 130-pound 17-year-old when he turned pro in 2003, learning on the job in lieu of an amateur career, trading punches while trading in on his father’s fame. He went through the usual designated opponents. He demonstrated flaws but lucked out on the scorecards, though that might’ve been less luck and more benefitting from his name by receiving the benefit of the doubt from the judges.
In late 2005 and early 2006 at junior welterweight and welterweight, Chavez fought to a draw and then took a majority decision over future 154-pound titleholder Carlos Molina, bouts that some observers believed Molina deserved to win. In 2008, at slightly above the junior-middleweight limit, Chavez received a split decision over Matt Vanda, then won more conclusively in their immediate rematch.
He was still young, growing into his body and as a fighter. By 2011, he was a middleweight who hadn’t done anything in the division beyond testing positive for a banned diuretic after a win over Troy Rowland, outpointing John Duddy and taking a decision over Billy Lyell.
But then Sergio Martinez was stripped of his World Boxing Council world title, a turn of events that came about because HBO didn’t want to pay for Martinez to face his mandatory challenger, Sebastian Zbik. Instead, HBO was pushing for Martinez to defend against Sergiy Dzinziruk. That’s because network executives had made a deal with Dzinziruk’s co-promoter, Gary Shaw, according to a report at the time from Dan Rafael of ESPN.com, citing anonymous sources. If the promoter helped make a unification fight between Devon Alexander and Shaw’s 140-pound titleholder, Timothy Bradley, then it would feature Dzinziruk.
Martinez gave up his belt to remain on HBO. The WBC, seeing a possibility to earn sizable sanctioning fees from the son of a Mexican legend, called for Chavez and Zbik to fight for the vacant world title, which HBO then bought. Zbik hadn’t been good enough for HBO for Martinez, but was fine for Chavez. Junior won the majority decision.
He defended it successfully three times, first taking out the overmatched Peter Manfredo Jr., then pounding away at a pair of respectable middleweights: longtime fringe contender Marco Antonio Rubio and future titleholder Andy Lee. Some criticized Chavez for the way he would drain down to make weight before coming in with a significant size advantage on fight night. He wasn’t doing anything illegal or different than what other boxers do.
Martinez ultimately wanted his world title back and sought to humble Chavez. While Chavez had a sanctioning body belt and was receiving significant paydays, Martinez was of a higher class and skill level. He out-boxed Chavez for 11 rounds. Chavez downed Martinez with hard blows in the final round. Martinez rose and traded away on an injured leg, surviving and winning the decision.
Chavez would never be at middleweight again. His first bout with Vera, a year after the loss to Martinez, had the weight limit pushed up, then again, then some more, until Chavez stepped on the scales at more than 172 pounds. The naturally smaller Vera appeared even further dwarfed in comparison but still took it to Chavez for 10 rounds, losing a controversial decision to the more established name. Chavez and Vera fought a rematch in March 2014 at the super middleweight limit; Chavez won far more convincingly.
Chavez then turned down a pay-per-view bout with Gennady Golovkin, who would’ve come up from middleweight to face him. He wasn’t happy with the contractual terms from Top Rank and wanted out of his contract. He later signed with powerful boxing adviser Al Haymon, a rival of Top Rank. The promoter sued. They later reached a settlement. Chavez was officially a Haymon fighter.
He wanted the challenge of Fonfara. His father warned against it.
Chavez Jr. needed it. He sought to be more than his name.
He still tried to take whatever advantages he could.
The 172-pound catch-weight wouldn’t make a difference.
Fonfara took Chavez’s shots and returned fire. Chavez didn’t have advantages in size and power anymore. He also didn’t have the experience to adjust, despite all of his time in the ring.
In the ninth, Fonfara was on the inside with Chavez when the fighters paused. He took a step to the side, positioning his body to set up a left hook to Chavez’s chin. The punch had a delayed effect, with Chavez’s legs freezing up beneath him. He fell to the canvas, rising soon to beat the count.
And then he quit.
After the ninth round, Chavez told trainer Joe Goossen to stop the bout. He claimed his leg was bothering him.
The boos rained down. So did beers thrown at the ring.
In a post-fight interview, Chavez claimed that he had been winning the fight. Then he said that Fonfara was too big for him, but that the result would be different if they had a rematch at 170 pounds. Another catch-weight designed to give Chavez an advantage and Fonfara a disadvantage.
He sounded like a fighter who had gotten by on privilege and didn’t like the taste of adversity. It was reminiscent of Victor Ortiz, then a junior welterweight, folding mentally and wanting out of his battle with Marcos Maidana. It ultimately took Ortiz nearly two years to regain respect, however briefly, thanks to the pitched battle he won over Andre Berto.
Chavez will get another opportunity. He would be wise to go down to super middleweight, where Carl Froch has been holding out for a big fight with Chavez in Vegas, and where Haymon has a number of names.
He’ll need to adjust. He’ll also need to show the kind of discipline that wasn’t there in some of his past training camps.
This loss wasn’t great for Chavez, of course. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen either. The reality, as always, is somewhere in-between.
This is the time for Chavez to prove what he’s capable of. He’s shown that he’s not just a novelty, but he still has gotten away with advantages and privileges that others wouldn’t have received.
That’s helped him get opportunities and paydays from networks and promoters, though not respect from those who’ve long declined to give it.
The name will never be his own, but Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. can still try to make a name for himself.
