RIP Hector Camacho

How can I say this without degrading what many think is a "wonderful" person. I cant. Living in Spanish Harlem in the Johnson Houses Projects, I personally knew Hector (Macho) Camacho and his sister Estrella (that bitch!) though I knew his other sisters and family well.

What can I say about the guy? He was a punk and a bully. In the two fights I had with him, I beat him in one and he ran away in the other. He was nothing more than trouble for some of us at the JWJ Projects. He can be very intimidating, especially when one of his sisters is pushing him to resolve a fight by violent means, but when you stand up to him, he would coward away.

I think he may have been hit in the head once too many times because he was not always all that bright. He had a sense of good and bad and honor, but always went to bad. When he started to lose too many fight and started to look bad, he went to the Boy's Club where he asked to learn, in his words, "I want to fight like Bruce Lee!" He learned boxing then. Wikipedia states that he went on to learn Karate, but its wrong because I never saw him at the East Harlem Karate Academy School of Self Defense (Which I went on to my third degree blackbelt and is the reason why I beat him those early days). Though he went on to win championship fights in the PAL (Police Athletic League, an after school and summer program for teens and children ran by the NYC Police Dept.), I dont remember him graduating high school. Whether he did or didn't was his problem, not mine.

Though he was a terror in the boxing ring, he was an idiot in the open public. He would spend his winnings on fast cars, illegal drugs and women. Four of these women would be mothers to his four kids. I'll say that he did right by supporting them but did wrong for not being there, using his boxing career as an excuse to not be there for them. Again, Wikipedia has him arrested once for burglary but I know of many times when he was rounded up with the other drug addicts when buying their stash. I can bet he was let go if he did public service because of his fame.

He did not support his community with the millions he made in his boxing career. He only thought of himself, drugs, fast cars and women. As a teacher, lifeguard and education director for after school/summer day camp programs, I supported our community and gave children scholarships from various foundations and help poor family obtain food and services they needed. It is for me that community comes first and I later down the line. But he was the opposite of that, in the very least an opportunist and was nothing other than a name of fame in the community.

Since he died yesterday (at the time of this writing) you will be hearing about him and his fame in boxing. People will be saying nice things about him, people who never knew him. Last night a barbershop owner was interviewed last night about his days as a child and a teen in the projects and showing off pictures of him. Least to say that living in this community for the past 30 years, that barber did not have a shop there when Hector lived there, that barber himself just recently moved to the area a few years ago, and that barber never knew Hector Camacho on any level to say the good things he said about him. There is too much hype for an idiot who got by his fists and who did not do any good except for himself with those fists. One who spent much of his life drunk or high, and despite what they say about the shooting, he was about to do drugs with his friend before they got shot.

What can I say about this guy? Dont believe the hype. That is what I can say about him. Only in death will I give him the respect he never deserved in life. May he find the peace he never had.

Links:
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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Héctor_Camacho

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/25/sports/hector-camacho-50-boxer-who-lived-dangerously-dies.html

http://edition.cnn.com/2012/11/24/sport/puerto-rico-camacho-death/index.html

My greatest memory of Hector "Macho" Camacho:

The year was 1992 in the small city of Avenal, California, USA. On a Saturday in September, the local 'Pizza Factory' franchise was going to attempt something that they had never done before, and would never do again; they were going to host an event in order to boost sales. The big draw was that the owner had secured satellite TV service and would be hosting a fight that the community at large had been anticipating since speculation had began a year earlier.

The fight would be Hector "Macho" Camacho himself against a Mexican Icon; Julio Cesar Chavez. The charge of admission was one large 3-topping pizza with one pitcher of soda or beer. Needless to say, the place was filled by mid-noon with more struggling to get in. When there were no more places to sit, patrons ate and drank along the counter, or sat on the floor passing the pitchers and pies around.

I myself had been asked by my Grandparents to go ahead and secure a table when the restaurant opened at 11 am and stayed there until they came a half hour later. Through their foresight we were able to snag a table within perfect viewing distance of the 60" projection TV hosting the fight(remember this was before LCD,LED,plasma, etc; in those days sitting up close to a rear projection television meant you were getting a blurry picture at best). We ate and we waited and then we ate some more. Finally, the day started to give in to the evening night...and the pre-fight show began.

They showed training segments between Chavez and Camacho; and many were quick to comment how Chavez' training seemed more rigorous with an emphasis on cardio and how Camacho looked to be his cocky self as he seemed to favor lifting weights with gold chains on at all times no less. In Spanish; I heard someone ask "Is he training or posing?" and a laugh quickly erupted before dying quickly as each fighter remarked on the fight.

Camacho seemed to be completely at ease with himself and even carried a bit of a cocky air about him and even went so far as to casually question Chavez' record. Not to the degree that Greg Haugen would do a few short months later, but in that small pizza parlor in small town California, you could feel the tension rising to a fever pitch. I heard before that sometimes silence speaks louder than words ever can, and on that day I found out what that meant. Chavez on the other hand spoke calmly and with an air of violent serenity about him; as if we were witnessing a warrior monk at rest.

An hour later; the fight began and the first thing I remember was guys and gals laughing at how ridiculous his entrance garb looked. From the headress down to the cape to his 'out there' trunks; someone remarked that "he raided Superman's dumpster". Looking at it now, I still get a chuckle. Especially at how outright pleased with himself he seems.

Then what I like to call "the magic minute" happened. First Chavez appeared on screen and people clapped. Then his entrance theme started and the roof just about blew off. Even as Chavez' camp was getting harassed during the entrance, people kept cheering and even broke into a chant in unison of "Mexico, Mexico!"

The in-ring festivities pass on as a blur until the fight begins. or the first three rounds Camacho peppered Chavez with quick jabs and some nice footwork. Really nice I have to admit, but those who were aware of how Chavez' style knew what was happening. Just as I'd seen when Chavez fought Meldrick Taylor two years prior(which is still the greatest fight I've seen); Chavez was making Camacho move. Possibly more than he wanted to; Chavez was making Camacho expend valuable energy in the early rounds. Then in Round 4; Camacho began to swell.

For the rest of the fight it was the Chavez Show and Camacho was simply trying to keep up. With the packed crowd yelling and cheering with each successive round, by the time the last bell sounded the place was deafening and the announcer called what everyone already knew. With everyone shaking hands and hugging each other celebrations were in order, but they would have to go elsewhere.

The franchise owner had vastly underestimated how big of a crowd he would have. He was out of dough, sauce, and toppings. The salad bar was bone dry and the only drink left was diet soda which was no doubt in short supply as well. Even the arcade was out of order due to the machines no longer being able to take quarters. So the crowd filed out and raided whatever store would serve them and music played throughout the night.

Thank you both, Boomer and Scarred.

Now for something completed different? Its still about Hector Camacho...

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It was either this fight you mentioned or another but it was in the 1990s, Hector bought a Ferrari 512 and drove it to the neighborhood to show it off. I was not too impressed with it as I was driving a Fiat X 1/9 and was extremely happy with it. Believe it not though his Ferrari was new (or well kept used), he was highly jealous of my X 1/9. I could not wrap my mind at the audacity of his reactions. A week later he offered to buy my X 1/9 and I told him $10 Grand in cash. Considering that he had millions (or so he spoke that he did) he went off about not giving me cash for the car and wanted to give me a check! Hell no-check bounce and I would be without my ride... "You know where I live. Come with the cash, walk out with the title, registration and keys." He never showed up.

Another week I notice that every time I drove into the block and park my X 1/9 for the night, He would gather his homies into his Ferrari and drive away. Some nights while I slept they would park the Ferrari by the X 1/9 and stand around it. Somebody told them that if anything happens to my car, I'm torching theirs. I wonder where such rumors come from? Oh yeah - ME!

On a couple of occasions I seen the Ferrari in my rearview, and parked around the schools I work for. One day I was transferring computer parts for a school that was moving from one building to another; so you know, I was putting computer parts in both the X 1/9's trunks (front and rear). They must have seen it because their reaction when I got home was "where' the motor to the car!!!" I told them it was magic that drives the car.

That weekend Hector took out that Ferrari for the last time, loaded with as many homies he can stuff in it and a babe on his lap. He decided that he would go racing at the illegal drag races in the Bronx. Somehow he made some kind of Smokey and the Bandit bet, where a pair of drivers get into their cars and race down to NYC's South Street Seaport Pier and bring back an order of lobster and steak to the starting point of the race. Hector decided that he would race with his homies and the babe still on his lap in his car. Everybody decided to chase after them in their cars and see who would win.

You know, NYC is own for its famous Con Edison (electrical power company, aka Con Ed) created pot holes. The race was from Zarega Ave in the Bronx to the South Street Sea Port Pacific Grill; getting onto the Brunker in the Bronx and make their way to the FDR Drive in Manhattan to the Brooklyn Bridge - a 20 mile race round trip. They would not make it.

Weighed down, the Ferrari bounced all over the road and bottomed out on pot holes. At 116th street, there was road work going on and the FDR was potted with ripped asphalt and patches of concrete under it. He took the curve at over 120, hitting a large hole, bottoming out the car on impact with the concrete hard. The oil tank ruptures and the car goes up in a rolling fireball of flames. They managed to stop 2 blocks away and get out unhurt. His homies left, as did the babe that sat on his lap and left him alone to deal with the police. The accident was blamed on the poor road conditions and the low under carriage of the Ferrari. He would disappear for a long while after that.

Interesting, this link mentions a woman on his lap while driving a Ferrari, but not the accident, though he brags about it there...
http://www.examiner.com/article/hector-camacho-s-life-was-so-wild-it-almost-defies-description