A Puncher's Chance

Guerrero Overcomes Obstacles to Finally Get His Big Shot

SALISBURY, Md. -- Thermometers outside the dilapidated former bus garage read 104 degrees on a recent mid-August day. But determining the exact temperature inside the sweltering gym served no purpose. Fernando Guerrero had to train; the U.S. Olympic team trials were less than two weeks away, and at least the heat would help keep the weight off.

"Leave the door open," Guerrero said as he set down a gallon jug of water and peeled off his T-shirt. "We're going to need all the air we can get." As his words trailed off, another boxer flung open a garage door, flooding the room with sunlight.

A graveyard of broken weight machines lies behind the speed bag at Main Street Gym; the usable equipment, along with free weights and punching bags, surround a ring whose blue canvas floor is patched by duct tape in the center.

In the far left-hand corner of the building, a tree grows through the cinder block wall. Behind the ring, city, state and national flags hang over peeling red, white and blue paint. Underneath them a sign is taped: "It takes brains to box, so stay in school and stay in the gym."

To the right, the chiseled Guerrero, in royal blue velvet trunks, darted back and forth in front of smudged, water-damaged mirrors. Every few minutes he shook his head, sending droplets of sweat flying from his braids to the steamy floor, where they evaporated on impact.

Guerrero, 20, likes this gym. Its stagnant scent of new sweat on top of old sweat reminds him of gritty and determined work. He imagines it would be strange to train somewhere else for the next year should he make the U.S. Olympic team.

He jogged over to his coach for instructions, passing a bank of metal lockers. Guerrero's is in the top row, his name scrawled large and in the center with an unassuming free hand. Above it, in the same relaxed font, is a reference to the Dominican Republic, where he was born.

But below his name, the words that became his creed are written more deliberately and in small letters, as if they are a secret: Never count me out. I'm a surprise.

When Guerrero, the No. 2 middleweight in the country, beat top-ranked Shawn Porter to win the U.S. championships in June, many called the bout a fluke. Not many people knew Guerrero, or that this was his third tournament victory, and the second this year, over the country's so-called man to beat.

Despite those victories, Guerrero still falls behind Porter in the second-quarter rankings for the 165-pound division.

"When I started boxing all I cared about were the rankings and once you learn that the rankings was nothing it doesn't matter," Guerrero said. "When I went to [the 2007 Midwestern Olympic trials in] Ohio a lot of people were like: 'Who's this guy? Fernando's not going to win.' But [Porter] knew who I was. It doesn't matter if nobody knows, if he knows who I am, how hard I hit, what my skills are, I don't care."

The pair's history dates from 2003, when a rule change sent Guerrero down a much more difficult path.