By Norm Frauenheim –
PHOENIX – Trilogies are supposed to be about more than just a couple of mere sequels. They’re supposed to make history. Maybe leave a legacy, too.
That’s why Juan Francisco Estrada and Roman “Chocolatito” Gonzalez are here, west of downtown Phoenix in Glendale.
Each talked quietly, almost solemnly, during a news conference Thursday about their third, defining confrontation (DAZN)
Saturday night at Desert Diamond Arena.
On the scale, they are junior-bantamweights. But, please, forget the junior. It sounds dismissive, an insult to what Estrada and Gonzalez are about to do. For one night, only Super Fly fits the heavyweight expectations awaiting these fighters, small only in height and weight. Go ahead, hum a few lyrics from Curtis Mayfield’s memorable theme to a 1972 film with the same name.
…Lotta things going’ on
The man of the hour
Has an air of great power…
…You’re gonna make your fortune by and by…
…Oh, superfly
After the newser, I jumped into my truck and listened to those and more Mayfield lyrics as I headed east, back on the crowded freeway and on to a stop at the home of America’s last Super Fly. Michael Carbajal is 55 today. There’s gray in his hair. There’s a smile in eyes that used to flash anger like sparks off flint.
He’s a man with memories and admiration for Estrada and Gonzalez. There’s also an understanding of what both are thinking. And enduring.
Nearly three decades ago, Carbajal was there in what was then the most significant trilogy in the history of weight classes at 115-pounds-and-less
Carbajal fought Humberto “Chiquita” Gonzalez three times, all at 108-pounds. He knocked him out in a Fight of the Year in 1993 in Las Vegas and then lost two narrow, debatable decisions in 1995, first on the Los Angeles Lakers’ old floor at The Forum in Inglewood and then in an aging Mexico City bullring in front of wild crowd of more than 30,000.
“By the third fight, I thought that I knew everything I could about Chiquita,’’ Carbajal said Thursday afternoon in his old Ninth Street Gym, once a church and just a short walk down the street from the house where he was born in a downtown neighborhood about 16 miles from Desert Diamond. “But he surprised me. It was kind of ironic. Before our first fight, he told me not to run away. I didn’t and I knocked him out.
“Then, he boxed. He had that discipline over two fights, over 24 rounds. I never thought he could do that, especially in front of his fans in Mexico City. They knew him for his knockouts. But he did it. He stayed away from me. And I give him credit. If I was him, I’d have done the same thing. No other way he could have beat me.’’
There’s a possible message in that memory for Estrada, Gonzalez and an expected crowd of 10,000. We’ve seemingly seen it all from Gonzalez’ unanimous decision in the first fight at 108 pounds and Estrada’s debatable split-decision at 115 in March 2021.
But there’s intrigue in what nobody has seen or expects. The resilience and versatile skillsets displayed by both suggest that there is more in each.
“This fight is hard to pick,’’ Carbajal said. “I mean each guy can win if he executes what he does best. But you just never know. Maybe the age will be the key. Gonzalez is 35. Estrada is 32.
“I like how both guys fight. In my day, I’d fight Gonzalez the way Estrada has. I’d put on the pressure. I’d keep that pressure on him. I’d fight Estrada the way Gonzalez has. He doesn’t have huge power. But it’s good enough, because he’s so precise, especially with his counter.’’
In both, Carbajal sees the inexhaustible will that drove him. Defined him.
More than money, he said, led to his decision to fight Chiquita a third time.
“There’s pride,’’ Carbajal said. “It’s wanting to prove who you really are. Me and Chiquita are friends today. We always will be. Back then, we were just sick of each other. He won two of three. But he couldn’t knock me out and he knew that. I knocked him out. I have that over him.’’
Carbajal-Chiquita 3 almost didn’t happen, he recalls. There was turmoil in Carbajal’s life and career. He had left Bob Arum’s Top Rank for Don King, who decided to stage the third fight in Mexico City, Chiquita’s home town because of a chance at a bigger live gate.
Danny Carbajal, Michael’s estranged older brother and then his trainer/manager, didn’t want to go to Mexico City.
“He told me he didn’t want the fight in Mexico City, but I do think he wanted the money,’’ said Michael, whose brother served three-and-half years in prison on charges of robbing Michael after a 53-fight career that included a reported $1-million payday – then the biggest ever for a fighter in the lightest weights — for his first rematch with Chiquita. “But I told Danny that the money didn’t matter as much as everything else.
“I wanted to prove I was better than Chiquita. Period.’’
The discussion in Carbajal’s kitchen got heated. Michael remembers jumping up on to his chair and screaming “I’ll knock him the f— out in Mexico City or anyplace else.’ ‘’
Danny Carbajal didn’t argue.
Today, it’s fair to wonder whether the fight should have happened somewhere else. Phoenix was mentioned. After all, Carbajal went to The Forum – then Chiquita’s second home – for the first rematch, even though he had decisively won the first bout, getting off the deck twice for a seventh-round KO in neutral Las Vegas. Nothing neutral about Mexico City. Retired featherweight and Carbajal friend Ruben Castillo described it this way: “Michael went from fighting in Chiquita’s backyard to fighting in his kitchen.’’
What it did show, however, is a willingness to fight anytime and mostly anywhere. That is missing these days, Carbajal says. Instead, there’s a risk-to-reward ratio that takes a lot of the courage and even more of the drama out of the game. For proof of that you need go no further than the failed negotiations for a major welterweight fight between Terence Crawford and Errol Spence Jr.
“Early in my career, I told Danny to find some ranked guys, real fighters,’’ Carbajal said. “I told him to quit throwing these effing patsies at me. I’d beat up those guys, finishing them off in three or four rounds. Then, I’d leave the ring and wondered what I had accomplished.
“I told Danny I wasn’t learning anything. Yeah, you want to make money. But you want to learn. I wanted to be the best fighter out there, better than anybody. I really loved to fight and I wanted real fights.’’
Nearly three decades later, Carbajal is confident he sees two fighters who love the craft the way he did. In their trilogy, he sees his own.
…The game he plays he plays for keeps…
…Gambling with the odds of fate…
…Woo, superfly
Estrada-Gonzalez 3, the right fight in the right place.
