Inside the knockdown, drag-out fight for boxing's ...

Illustration by ESPNRoberto Jos Andrade FrancoMultiple AuthorsJul 2, 2026, 07:00 AM ETEmailPrintOpen Extended ReactionsManhattan Beach Pier, CaliforniaI stare into the Pacific Ocean. There's something about water that makes me think of home. I don't know why since I'm from the El Paso desert, where mirages are the only things that look like bodies of water. Here, on a cool and cloudy morning on the first of May, people play volleyball and surf and walk their dog on the shoreline as water washes over their feet. Because that doesn't exist in the desert, it also makes me think of home. In the parking lot of a large building next to Interstate 10, on 18th and Grand, a security guard tells me something I can't understand. From the way he looks at me, it's clear he doesn't understand me either. "I work for ESPN," I say as I show him my badge and camera. "Can I go inside to take photos?" I want to explain I'm here because it's been said boxing is dead. I know that isn't true since it's always been a part of my life. For as long as I can remember, family and friends gathered to watch Mexicans fight. My mother didn't understand this country's language but felt connected when cameras captured those fighters speaking Spanish. To celebrate America's 250th anniversary, ESPN sent five writers (plus two dogs) across 10,000 miles and 21 states (plus D.C.) to experience the mystery and magic of sports. Monday: Evel Knievel lives. You just gotta know where to look. Alyssa Roenigk Tuesday: The greatest bet in sports history -- 157 years ago. Kent Babb Wednesday: It's a pickleball party and Vince Lombardi's ghost is invited! Aishwarya Kumar Thursday: Inside the fight for boxing's future. Roberto José Andrade Franco Friday: Miracles, mirages and -- gulp -- UFOs. By Dotun Akintoye Home base: Your one-stop guide to writers' routes, postcards and more. America 250 But I also know boxing is not what it once was, so I want to see what's left and there's no better place to begin than here. This large building beside us was once home to roller derbies and wrestling and, more importantly, boxing. I want to tell the security guard it was the Grand Olympic Auditorium but because of the events it hosted, it was called The Bucket of Blood and considered the Madison Square Garden of the West. "This is where Mexico's national hero, Julio César Chávez, won his first world title. And this is where parts of 'Requiem for a Heavyweight,' 'The Champ,' 'Raging Bull' and 'Rocky' were filmed. Decades ago, this was the hub of West Coast boxing, in part because Dodger Stadium didn't host any fights after Davey Moore died there in 1963. Have you heard that song from Bob Dylan? That's the Davey Moore he's singing about." That's what I'd tell him if we understood each other. But to avoid more confusion I simply say, "I'm a writer. There used to be boxing here." He'd know this if the big block letters on the side of the building that once read, "BOXING EVERY THURSDAY" hadn't been covered -- "JESUS IS THE WAY, THE TRUTH, AND THE LIFE," it now says. And if the mural of an unknown boxer painted above the main entrance hadn't been painted over. "IN GOD WE TRUST," it says above where the boxer once was. The security guard looks at me, and my badge, and the camera I'm holding. "Inside, no photo. Outside, yes," says the man guarding the building that's now a Korean church. Some of my best nights of sleep have come after big Mexican fights. Like that night in 1990 when Julio César Chávez miraculously knocked out Meldrick Taylor in the last two seconds of Round 12. Or when Andy Ruiz Jr. knocked out Anthony Joshua in 2019 and destroyed what was supposed to be boxing's future. I celebrated in my living room as quietly as possible because my wife and daughter were asleep. I thought about waking up my daughter because even if she wouldn't remember it, she could still claim to have seen the fight when, for the first time, a fighter of Mexican descent became boxing's heavyweight champion. Like when I covered my first one. Canelo Alvarez beat Gennadiy Golovkin in their rematch in September 2018. It was at the same T-Mobile Arena where I sit and write this now, the night of the fight between David "The Mexican Monster" Benavidez and Gilberto "Zurdo" Ramirez on Cinco de Mayo weekend. Partly because I watched Mexican boxers do the impossible, I believed I could do this kind of work long before 2018. But that night, after Canelo beat Golovkin, I slept well because the credential and money I got to write about it were proof I hadn't been lying to myself. An incomplete list of bad Mexican monsters: 1. Maxi Rodriguez, who scored a goal for Argentina against Mexico in the 2006 World Cup. It was so improbable it made my friend a believer. "That's when I knew God existed," my friend told me years later, when the pain had faded a bit. "And that he hated Mexicans." 2. Arjen Robben, who threw himself on the pitch against Mexico in the 2014 World Cup. The pha

Inside the knockdown, drag-out fight for boxing's ...

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