Rose had to
content himself with his $100,000 share of the purse. Olivares, being the
challenger, would get only $30,000, plus the kind of fanatical admiration that
fills the dressing rooms of winners.
"I knew I had
it from the second round," he managed to say in Spanish, helped by a
thousand or so unofficial interpreters surrounding him. "Rose is a great
fighter, a great boxer, strong, quick. But I take care of him."
lights were now reflecting the dazzle of his gold-capped front teeth and
Olivares was sullen no more. He babbled constantly as his handlers finally cut
his gloves off, revealing solid hands that showed no hint of damage.
difference," said Hernandez, pointing to the hands. "Mexicans work with
their hands. Build houses, build buildings, dig, pound, work. Great strength.
Then off came a
shoe and out dropped a worn gold ring that Olivares always puts there when he
fights. It was given to him by his father, who is also his business manager.
The family's system is a simple one. The father takes half of Ruben's money to
invest as he sees fit. Ruben gets to invest the other half as he pleases, and
there is never much doubt about how he pleases. Already from this purse has
come a Corvette 427, a car to suit a champion. And, as the night wore on,
Olivares kept shouting to anyone he thought he recognized, "Come, vacation
with me. Acapulco. Great time. Great place! Come, I treat you to the
works—wine, women, song."
One of his
followers expressed some concern to Hernandez about Ruben's postfight
worry," Olivares interrupted. "I know when to work and when to have
fun. Before the fight I sweat. Now I play. See you in Acapulco."