Almost five years later, it’s still as fresh as the day we heard the news of Chico’s passing. It was especially hard for my family: our dad and Chico’s original trainer, Ray Charles Woods; my mom Olga; myself Esteban L. Corrales; and my brother Daryl Maze Woods; and Chico’s five children.
To tell the story of boxing’s true warrior spirit would prove difficult for anyone who ever had the pleasure to sit in the same room with him. It's even more difficult for a brother who would spend the next four and a half years in a daze -- numb to the world and disinterested in a sport which was very much a staple in the Woods household, Diego Corrales' home. For me, it was like Superman was dead.
I remember the overwhelming anger I felt in the wake of his passing, and having no one to blame other than the sport itself and the stresses that came along with it. Boxing was the reason I no longer had my brother -- not Diego Corrales the fighter, but my brother Chico.
Learning to live without your brother is a day-by-day process. One day I sat in a sports bar nursing a beer and I looked up at the television and there was a boxing match on. As I focused in on the screen, I did not see a boxing match, not the world's Diego Corrales. Instead, I saw my brother and it seemed as if I was in a room alone giving directions to weave and counter -- bobbing and moving my head as if the punches were being thrown at me.
I experienced boxing all over again as if it were the first time I watched my brother fight. As the fight ended, I slowly came out of my boxing trance with my heart racing, realizing there was a bar room full of thrilled fans cheering as if the fight were happening live. Still, I walked away as not completely forgiving the sport of boxing for what we had all endured as a family throughout his career.
A year or so later, I sat in a jailhouse dorm room with approximately 30 other inmates in Placer County watching the Corrales/Castillo fight on dorm television, and after shouting at an inmate to leave it on, he reluctantly did so.
The inmates of the Placer County jail and the officers were all settling in to watch. As the two went toe-to-toe, as the fight progressed, I watched the morale of the inmates and the jail transform into a boxing venue and a place of equality. Correctional officers came into the dorm, sat in the inmate seating and watched the fight. Again, I got to experience boxing and all of its greatness with my brother.
This was about the time the clouds above me finally began to break and in a dark room, I could see the sun and finally hear my brother and all of the silly things he had said to me and the life lessons he had taught me. I came to the realization that life without boxing meant a life without my brother and all of what he had given, not only to the world of boxing, but the entire world.
Esteban
Feeling rejected was not one of the feelings I expected after my brothers passing. When Chico was alive, everyone wanted to be around and keep in touch. But after his death no one made themselves available to us. It was like they didn’t care to see what we were going through. A lot of anger and resentment set in and it didn’t help that me and my brother couldn’t and didn’t talk to each other about it. We just each went in our own direction, lost in our own pain and misery.
I have respect for a few friends that supported me through a very tragic time. But it should have never been like what we went through. Families are supposed to be part of the ugly hard times as they were for the good times.
Though we battled through the hardest time of my life and came through okay, every now and then I think about that day that I lost my brother and no one was there for me. But I am also aware that the damage is already done and now I live and try to keep Chico’s memory alive. I try to keep his name out there because it’s important to us as a family to remember my brother. If I learned anything from Chico it was to never give up on anything I believe in.
I miss Chico and all the fun times we had together as brothers. I remember his visits and the wild trips throughout California, Nevada and Mexico. I remember the great times I had with him in Vegas and being a part of his many boxing training camps.
I have no choice than to accept my brother’s death, but he is not forgotten and the memories we shared I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. And when I see his pictures on the wall, I see a great fighter, and a boxing legend, and maybe even a Hall of Fame candidate. But I have the honor of saying that he was my brother.
Daryl
Help support The Goldenstate Bloodhounds amateur boxing team and the full length novel coming soon, Purchase your Diego Corrales Pain for love T-shirts at https://www.booster.com/diegocorrales
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