By Oscar De La Hoya, Steve Springer
Born right into a boxing relatives, the son of Mexican-born mom and dad, Oscar "the Golden Boy" De los angeles Hoya has lived the yankee Dream—achieving unprecedented luck in every thing from athletics to company, from the recording to various charitable ventures. The winner of six international titles and an Olympic gold medal, he has defeated greater than a dozen international champions and has left a favorable mark at the game of boxing, inspiring many that had all yet given up wish. American Son is his story—a quintessentially American story—a frank, touching, and revealing memoir from the most celebrated warring parties within the historical past of boxing. it's the exciting story of an immigrant's son—the chronicle of an grand life's trip that provides new perception into the personal international and memorable occupation of a gentleman, an athlete, and a real nationwide icon.
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Extra info for American Son: My Story
I can’t imagine what would have happened if my parents had found out. Actually, I can guess what my mother would have done. It’s funny. My father was very, very tough on my brother and me, very intimidating, but he never laid a hand on us. It was my mother, believe it or not, who handled the physical punishment. She would take off her shoe and throw it at us, or spank us with a belt. Those spankings made us cry when we were small, but as we grew older, it was no big deal. AMERICAN SON 45 One time, as she was spanking me, I started to laugh.
He was very strong-willed, 46 Oscar De La Hoya very tough in the way he talked to you. It was his way or no way. I respected him, but I feared him. The intimidation factor remained for a long time, after I won Olympic gold, after I turned pro, even after I was making more money than him. I remember one night, after I had bought a house in Montebello for myself and the rest of the family, I tried to sneak home with my friend Raul after a night of drinking and clubbing, fearful that my father would catch me.
What’s pleather? Fake leather. There was a big mirror on one wall with a cross hanging down. The prized object in the room was a twenty-inch color TV with two antennas jutting out of the top, their original form twisted and turned from constant adjustment. It would be pathetic in comparison to today’s gadget-laden big-screens, but in that neighborhood in those days, it was like having a movie screen at your personal disposal. Yes, there were only seven channels and you actually had AMERICAN SON 39 to walk up to the set and change channels by hand, a primitive concept to my own kids, but whether it was watching Dodger games or entertainment shows, that TV was our window to the world, proof there was life beyond McBride Avenue.