WILFRED BENITEZ: THE DARK SIDE OF A WARRIOR'S WORLD
In 1986, a homeless and mentally distressed Wilfred Benitez wandered the streets of Salta, Argentina, panhandling for money to buy food. Locals had no idea that the grubby and malnourished man, known to start random bursts of high-speed roadwork until collapsing in exhaustion, was actually boxing royalty.
Benitez-one of the modern era greats, who won a world title at the age of 17 and had held his own in battles with the likes of Sugar Ray Leonard, Roberto Duran, Tommy Hearns, and Carlos Palomino-was under medical suspension in his native Puerto Rico when lured to Argentina for a much-needed payday.
Already suffering from early stages of Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE), a degenerative brain disease caused by repetitive head trauma, the future Hall of Famer reportedly failed his pre-fight physical prior to his bout in Salta, but was allowed to enter the ring, anyway.
One predictable knockout loss later, insult was added to injury when event promoters allegedly stole Benitez's passport and balked at paying him the purse he was promised.
Destitute, foggy-brained, and without any legal identification to leave the country, Benitez spent a long year on the streets until a government representative from Puerto Rico followed the trail of the Boricua national hero and rescued him.
The Argentina experience would be the first time boxing let Wilfred Benitez down, but it wouldn't be the last time.
Shockingly, a clearly unwell Benitez would find himself back in the ring just a couple of years after the Argentina debacle, for four more pointless fights under the auspices of weak commissions for minor paydays. By then, though, the damage had already been done. One of the brightest, sharpest, most charming fighters of the last 50 years was fading away.
Fast forward to 2017.
The 58-year-old Wilfred Benitez lives in a permanent fog, nearly blind and unable to stand upright for long due to balance issues. His mind is all but gone, showing only occasional glimpses of the man he used to be. Complications from diabetes and a stroke suffered a few years ago complicate matters even further. The man who traveled the world as a thinking man's warrior and tactical genius, is gone.
Also gone is every bit of the approximately $8 million he earned as a prizefighter.
Some point to Benitez's late father and former business manager, Gregorio-a born dreamer and compulsive gambler-as the guilty party behind Wilfred's missing millions. Other's lay the blame on Benitez, himself, who spent freely and was, by all accounts, a soft touch when it came to helping others. Whatever the case, the money disappeared long ago and right when Wilfred needed it most.
Now living on public aid provided by the Puerto Rican government and a three-digit monthly stipend from the WBC, Benitez needs round-the-clock care and is currently looked after by his sister. His beloved mother, Clara, a licensed nurse who watched over Wilfred with a dedication only a mother could give her ailing son, passed away in 2008. The former champ lives in his modest family home, sharing space with two other brothers, who also suffer with CTE from their own time in the fight game. With a disease that is progressing and a family already stretched well beyond their means, he is teetering on tragedy without the slightest hint of a safety net. Not too long ago, the family had to sell part of their metal roof for scrap in order to buy groceries.
But through it all, the fighter is still there. Buried deep inside a mind that is, literally, shutting itself off, Benitez makes it clear that boxing is still part of him. His family talks of Wilfred sometimes bobbing and weaving in his chair, showing a bit of the classic movement that defined his defensive style. At Hector Camacho's funeral in 2012, Benitez shocked everyone in attendance when he stood up from his wheelchair and struck a firm fighter's pose in front of the casket of the fellow Boricua Hall of Famer.
A fire as bright as Wilfred's is hard to simply extinguish. After all, this is the man who tamed Roberto Duran. A man who is defined by the battles he has waged is hard to keep down-even in a war he is destined to lose.
Boxing is a part of Wilfred Benitez and Wilfred Benitez has never left boxing. But, sadly, boxing has, for the most part, left HIM. Although there are pockets of support and recognition scattered all throughout the sport, boxing has mostly walked away from the man who, literally, gave everything to his craft. A champion unable to pose for selfies on Hall of Fame induction weekends or sign autographs ringside at the fights, soon finds himself forgotten. Way too many fans of the sport prefer not to look at the dark side of a world of warriors and sacrifice. They don't want to see that there is a price to pay for heroism.
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Special thanks go to "The Iceman" John Scully for inspiring this piece and for all the great work he has done in raising funds and awareness for this cause.
2 completely different scenarios. 
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