Consistently underrated, Adrian Arreola never stopped punching

After his first fight at the Hollenbeck Police Station in Los Angeles, CA, Adrian Arreola wasn’t sure boxing was for him. 

“They set me up with a kid who had 60 amateur fights,” Arreola told me on the phone a few weeks ago. “We were both 15. He kicked the sh## out of me.”

Arreola went home with a busted nose and bruised pride. A few weeks later, some friends asked what had happened.

“They said they thought I was going to box,” said Arreola. 

Arreola shook his head, but he couldn’t shake the sense that he could do better if he applied himself. Plus, he had revenge on his mind. 

“I wanted to beat him like he had beat me,” he said. 

A few weeks later, Arreola was back at Hollenbeck, with a new sense of purpose. He worked out and kept coming back. He got in the ring and sparred. It felt good. He kept an eye out for the amateur star, named Adolph, but rarely saw him in the gym. 

”He acted like he knew everything, “said Arreola. 

A few weeks later, Arreola was told he’d be fighting Adolph again. 

“Ok,” he said, “I’m ready.”

The rematch was no contest.

“I returned the favor,” Arreola said. “I made him cry”

Adrian Arreola was born in a Los Angeles project. His brothers and father were all boxers. He fought his way out, winning the Junior Olympics in 1975. He grew up admiring the greats, Reuban Olivares, Bobby Chacon, and Danny “Little Red” Lopez. 

His first trainer was Ray Mayo, his second, Al Stankie, who took him out of the projects and guided his career. 

Not well, it must be said. But Adrian was loyal. 

He won his first nine fights, all at the historic Olympic Auditorium. 

“I was born in Guadalajara, Mexico,” Arreola told me. “And the family, when they heard I was doing good, would come and see me fight at the Olympic.

 “Waiting down in the dungeon to fight, that was tough. I remember seeing another fighter all beat up.

“Then I’d hear, ‘Hey Arreola, you’re up.’ I was nervous.”

Arreola lost fights to Kiko Bejines, and Roger Mayweather. Both were bigger and had more time to prepare.

“My manager and trainer, Al Stankie, would call me out of nowhere and tell he had a fight for me,” Arreola said. “I wasn’t working out or anything. He knew that but it didn’t matter.” 

This unfortunate pattern would repeat itself throughout Arreola’s boxing career. In 1983, Arreola was offered a chance to fight future superstar Julio Cesar Chavez. Arreola had bounced back to win four fights in a row since losing to Mayweather. His losses, against Oscar Bejines, and Connie Swift, were debatable at best. His victory over future world champion, Juan Nazario, was not. 

“I was offered the fight with Chavez, “said Arreola. “I weighed one hundred twenty-two pounds in my clothes, but I needed the money so I took the fight. That was my mentality.”

Arreola lost a 10-round decision to Chavez but was back in the ring a little over a month later. He reeled off seven wins in a row before running into Dana Ralston. No matter. His next fight would be the biggest of his career, against former world champion Lupe Pintor. 

Pintor had one tune-up fight in Mexico before facing Arreola. They wanted one more. Arreola knew virtually nobody was giving him a chance against Pintor, but this time he had ample time to get ready. He moved into co-trainer Sonny Shapiro’s house and worked, and worked, and worked some more.  

“I told (Arreola) that Lupe was coming back from a terrible motorcycle accident,” Shapiro said via Facebook. “He was moving up in weight so he must make Pintor go backward all the time and work the body. The pressure was the key.

“He did it all and Pintor was battered for eight rounds. Adrian was poetry in motion that night.”

After his victory over Pintor, Arreola, now ranked number eight by the WBC, was hopeful of a title shot, but it never happened. 

“Al Stankie didn’t have the connections,” said Arreola. 

Shapiro knew Stankie well.

Knew what he was. 

“A total fuc##### asshole,” Shapiro said. “Adrian was the most accomplished fighter he had, but he didn’t treat him right.”

A year after the greatest victory of his career, Arreola could feel his love for boxing waning. 

“I didn’t think I was going anywhere,” he said. “I felt like I was being used. If I didn’t win, oh well.”

Arreola lost fights he normally would have won. He walked away from the sport in 1987, only to return three years later. 

“I needed money,” said Arreola. “The fire and desire were gone.” 

He quit boxing for good in 1992 – filled with regrets. 

“If I could start over, I’d have a new manager,” Arreola said. “Someone who would work with me on my career. Not just there for the money. I regret the losses, but I fought to survive. Later I did it to help my parents.

"My mother told me, ‘You have to understand. Once boxing is over, everybody that’s around you freeloading is going to disappear.’ "

Truer words were never spoken. 

Boxing is loaded with backstabbers and snakes. At least Arreola had Shapiro in his corner for eight years, a man he could trust. 

It wasn’t that way with Stankie. At the peak of his career, Arreola almost handed over his career to Mike Fernandez, a matchmaker who worked with the Olympic Auditorium, but stayed loyal to Stankie. 

That might be his greatest regret, but Fernandez came through in another way when Arreola’s boxing career was over. 

“I called him (Fernandez) one day and asked him for a job,” remembers Arreola. Fernandez said, ‘Oh yeah, let me know when you’re here, and will sit down and talk.’

Arreola has been working at Camino Real Chevrolet for 28 years now. He still helps train kids at his old gym, grateful to give back. He was honored to be inducted into the California Boxing Hall of Fame in 2012, and the West Coast Boxing Hall of Fame a few weeks ago. 

Burned by his trainer and mismanaged, Arreola makes no excuses. 

“I’ve been through some hard times, “said Arreola. “But I’ve survived.”

Yes, he has - never stop punching.