Oscar De La Hoya Will Always Be ‘The Golden Boy,’ But He’s Finally Opening Up About The Extreme Pressure He’s Withstood As An Adult: “The Emotional and Physical Abuse Took a Toll On Me”

Very few people, even incredibly famous ones, have lived the kind of life that Oscar de la Hoya has. A star from the moment a camera lens found him, the kid from East Los Angeles grew up rather quickly in the public eye, with massive expectations after winning an Olympic gold medal in boxing in Barcelona back in the summer of 1992. From there, De La Hoya became not just a great fighter — winning multiple titles over his illustrious 16-year career — but a world famous heartthrob. Yet even the idea that he grew up at such a young age isn’t accurate if you let him tell it. De La Hoya was thrust into the limelight because of a promise he made to his dying mother… that didn’t exactly happen like he said. In fact, there were always slight tears in the image that he and his team crafted – one dubbed the Golden Boy – that grew as he moved further away from his fighting prime.

In a new two-part documentary from HBO Sports aptly called The Golden Boy — available to stream on Max — De La Hoya gives us a long-awaited confessional about how that persona was in stark contrast to his actual private life. Directed by Fernando Villena and produced though Mark Walhberg’s Unrealistic Ideas, the Hall of Fame boxing legend revisits his triumphs while also discussing a life in chaos – several children out of wedlock, fractious relationships with those close to him, substance abuse, and the infamous photos in which he’s wearing women’s lingerie.

Decider had the chance to speak with de la Hoya about the documentary prior to its release, as well as his life in and out of the ring.

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DECIDER: For someone who has spent most of his life in the public eye as an iconic boxer and now a major fight promoter, The Golden Boy feels like the first time the world has gotten to know who you actually are. What was the motivation behind telling your story in this way?

OSCAR DE LA HOYA: You know, that’s what I had to do. At the end of the day, I realized that this was literally a therapy session for me. Talking the truth and just being candid, you know. I wanted to be honest, authentic, and to make sure that everybody knows the real story.

For you, this is a unique form of it. At the start of the first episode, you basically said that you weren’t trying to necessarily take down this media-driven image of “the Golden Boy,” but do you remember the first time that you want to fight that image as a fighter or even as a young kid coming up in the game? What kept you from doing it then? Or did you always find new ways to fight that image?

I remember I was 24 years old. And so I was a handful of years into being “the Golden Boy,” right, and making money and having the fame and the glory and all that. But yeah, I remember one time, this one incident where I was driving this Ferrari going 175 miles per hour and hoping that it would end. So now that I think back at that it’s like, yeah, I was fed up with that pressure at an early age. I was just over it. Because at 24, 25 years old, nobody gave me a handbook to learn how to be a celebrity, to learn how to manage money, to learn how to manage fame, and this and that. So it all came down on me so fast. And I remember that one incident where… obviously, I was afraid to end it, but I want it to end just because there was so much pressure.

So this may seem like a very simple question, but for those who have never been in the ring, it’s not. Why box in the first place? Why were you willing to get punched in the face for a living? You have to be built differently to get into fight game, and obviously, if you’re going to ascend to a certain level, you’re going to put your body through so much for so many years. So what told you “Hey, I want to do this!”?

Well, I basically had no choice. You know, my father was a fighter, my grandfather was a fighter. When my brother quit and didn’t want to be a fighter, I was the chosen one. I was five years old. And my father said to me, “okay, it’s your turn, I’m gonna live my life through you.” And so it’s basically being conditioned. I mean, yeah, what kid wants to fucking get hit in their face for a living? 

I remember being six years old and just being petrified, but I had to do it, I was forced to do it. In the beginning, it’s like, I hated it, but then you start, you start being conditioned and then you start to like it, and then it becomes part of you. And then there’s no turning back.

Were you also motivated by anger? It feels like a common trait with some fighters.

Oh yeah, oh yeah. My mother was abusive, physically. And so there’s times where I would be sparring at training camp or in fights, I would literally picture my mom. And, and so all the anger that I had, as a child towards her, towards my father, you know, I would just unleash on my opponents. If I didn’t have that abuse, I don’t think I would have that same passion and anger inside the ring.

You were a child of the 1970s and 1980s, and in those times, kids didn’t exactly have as many outlets for themselves — both for self-care as well as for mere entertainment — as there are in 2023. If you lived the life of your youth today, with the trauma to go alongside with your talents, do you think you would have still gotten into boxing?

I don’t think so, I don’t think so. Because now you can talk to somebody, and social media has changed the game completely on how people think, and how people feel. And I don’t think I would have that same drive and passion. I literally think that I would have found a way to heal myself and not have that same drive I had because of the anger that I grew up with.

One theme in your documentary that was seared to memory was about for quite a while you didn’t feel the love from the people of your heritage, despite being a Mexican-American born in East Los Angeles. I remember covering some fights prior to your megafight with Floyd Mayweather Jr. on Cinco de Mayo weekend in 2007 and seeing how the tide appeared to have turned in your favor. When did you feel like you were finally embraced by the people of your heritage, if you feel that at all?

Yeah, it’s a good question. I mean, I always felt like an outsider because I wasn’t American enough or I wasn’t Mexican enough. It’s like I’m in between, right? I’m Hispanic. My parents are immigrants, but I was born here in the US. A perfect example was when I fought Julio César Chávez and I was the enemy to every Hispanic, every Mexican out there, you know? I’ve always experienced hate towards me for so many years. And at the same time, I was expressing that “look, I’m proud to be an American but I love my Mexican heritage,” so I stuck to my guns. And I always thought maybe one day, they’re gonna realize how important it is to embrace the US, they’re gonna realize one day that it’s important that this country’s giving us opportunities. So I stuck to my guns, even though I was feeling all the hate over the years. 

Now I feel embraced. Because now those fans that were against me in the past, now they have kids that were born here in the US. I feel the love now, I feel the embrace, which feels pretty cool. I mean, it’s better late than never.

Something that stood out in the documentary was how you viewed your career, you know, saying “I didn’t live up to my potential. I could have been… I could have been.” As someone who did reach the pinnacle of his athletic pursuits, it can be jarring to those on the outside looking in to hear you say that. What is it exactly that you “could have been” in terms of your career?

Well, I’m my worst critic, I mean, all the world titles in different divisions, the Olympic medal. And all in between, I was a mess in between fights, and between training camps, I was a mess with the drinking, not being responsible and taking care of my body. And therefore, I’m kind of like my worst critic. I could have done a little better. The fights that I lost, maybe I could have won if I would have taken care of my body. 

Take a look at the interview with my father in the documentary. And his words when I fought Chávez, his words were “if Chávez was younger, he would have kicked his ass.” I was conditioned to think that I should have done a lot better. Like, I didn’t do enough. I should have done a lot better, even though I’ve won 10 world titles with seven divisions.

Probably the most anticipated part of The Golden Boy deals with arguably your darkest moment in the public eye – the infamous photos of you dressing in women’s intimates. To your credit, you chose not to ignore or gloss over them by any means, in fact you are pretty upfront about their impact on your world. 

We’re now in a time where society was supposed to be a little bit better about “kink shaming” and all the fervor around those images, but we’re not fully there. If that happened in today’s climate, how much of an impact do you think they could have had on your career today, either as an active boxer or your current role as a promoter?

No, I think that even if I would have embraced it, it still would have been plastered everywhere. I would have been the biggest thing that boxing has ever seen! I mean, the media has just changed everything. Thank God (laughs) there wasn’t social media back then when I was fighting.

It such a fascinating moment in time because as “the Golden Boy”, you were also called such because of your looks, and certainly fans and opponents thought of you as “a pretty boy” instead of a boxer. So when the photos came out, they codified some unfortunate beliefs your detractors had about you. Do you think some folks just thought “oh man, this guy’s just going through it!”? Maybe they had some sort of sympathy or at least didn’t feel as much hostility?

When people see the film, they’re gonna understand exactly I was going through. They’re gonna understand – maybe they’ll have some type of sympathy – but they’re gonna get to know what I’ve been through. And people only know the Golden Boy, people who only know that everything I touch turns to gold: the golden left hook, the golden looks… people will hopefully understand that I was under a lot of pressure. The abuse — the emotional and physical abuse — took a toll on me. Being famous in that era was more pressure than being famous today. You know, it was just so, so much. I think when people see how real and raw and authentic I am, I do feel that maybe people will have a little more compassion and think differently of me.

To that point, as a promoter and iconic figure in the sport, you’ve mentored a lot of fighters – Ryan Garcia, in particular – where a lot of people looked at him as the next, well, you. You had a blueprint of how to be a boxer from your father and grandfather, but as mentioned, there wasn’t one on how to be a celebrity. What do you tell young fighters now in terms of becoming a star and falling into that sort of media-driven image? 

For fighters who want to listen. (Laughs.) Because you’re right, I’m the perfect mentor for them. I’ve been through everything. I’ve done that. And fighters who are living it now, if they listen, I tell them “Put yourself first.” Don’t try to make everyone happy, then you’d have to smile and not be yourself. Put yourself first. That’s what I didn’t do. I was the Golden Boy and I had people to please; I had to put myself second and put everybody first. My advice to everyone is always this: Don’t forget about yourself. You have to make sure you put yourself first.

Do you feel like you’ve done that now? 

Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. I mean ’cause I’ve been through it all. I’ve done the therapy, I’ve been through rehabs, I’ve done this and that. And I’ve opened up and talked to people. Look, communication is everything. And fear for me was just the vehicle that was driving my life – the fear, the fear of expressing myself, the fear of what people are gonna think, you know? So now that I know that I’ve done all the work – and it’s a constant evolution every single day – I’m learning something new about myself. And so the more I can talk, the better it is for me.

The Golden Boy Parts 1 and 2 are now available to stream on Max.

Jason Clinkscales is a media industry analyst and freelance writer based in his native New York City. He waits with bated breath for a Knicks championship parade at @asportsscribe on Twitter and Instagram.