THERE are athletes who exude a confidence so quiet that it almost belies the talent they possess. A boxer with a good
head on his shouldersGolf's Tiger Woods is like that, marathoning's Uta Pippig fits that description, local basketball elite Alika Smith and Erin Stovall go into my book that way too.
Fighters aren't commonly contemplative creatures.
But Waipahu's Brian Viloria, now 16 and seeking an amazing third straight Junior Olympic National Boxing Championship this week in Michigan, is a truly unusual creature in a sport that has basked in a murky image in recent years -- a sport which until last November was epitomized by a convicted rapist.
Viloria is a rare creature alright and not just because he can work the body of an opponent with jack-hammer brutality (he scored a knockout in the junior world championship last year with a left hook to the body).
The kid, and I use that term advisedly because he's already more mature than many of the so-called "martial arts" characters who charge admission at the Blaisdell, has been a consistent honors student at Waipahu High School, an avid book reader, a tenor saxophonist, golfer, tennis player, and more recently, movie performer.
WHENthe cable TV production, "Atlantis, the Lost Continent," was filming here last fall, Viloria was asked to be a footwork double for a lead actor in a boxing scene. Eiichi Jumawan, a state boxing commission member who played the role of a referee in the scene, said the actor had two left feet and so Viloria's legs were recruited.
They're not quite as photogenic as Claudia Schiffer's stems but they're star quality nonetheless.
But enough about Viloria, the below-the-waist movie actor, and more about why he's likely to capture the fascination of the media when he finally steps into the pro ranks.
A rarity in his sport, Viloria has lightning-quick hands and intellect.
Hard to imagine a fighter with both.
A guy who can devour a best-seller on the couch with the same ease he devours an opponent in the ring.
Imagine the prefight press conferences where Viloria's softly articulate expressions of self-confidence play against the vain, expletive-spouting rhetoric of the more typical prize fighter.
This is Viloria's last year in the Junior Olympics. Next year, he'll be an open fighter facing opponents in their 20s.
YESTERDAY, he opened competition at the Hedgcock Fieldhouse on the campus of Northern Michigan University by decisioning Jose Rodrigues of Quincy, Washington, in the 112-pound class.
The finals are on Saturday.
Viloria drilled his way through to the 100-pound national title in 1995, earning the nickname, "Little Tyson" (not a handle he relished), and took the 106-pound championship last year even more decisively.
At 112 pounds, he's facing the tournament's deepest field.
Viloria is one of 200 boxers, ages 15 to 16, from all 50 states battling for gold and berths in the World Junior Invitational in Mexico City next month.
Jumawan said he's aghast at Viloria's work ethic.
"He's physically and mentally so tough," Jumawan said. "Every time there is a dead period at the Waipahu gym, he'll get down and start doing push-ups, or he'll walk on his hands. I've seen him do push-ups from a handstand."
But what really stuns Jumawan, a former national bantamweight and featherweight champion, is how dominant Viloria has been in national and international competition.
"It's amazing because he actually has no competition in the islands, and yet he maintains such sharpness," said Jumawan. "I think his potential is limitless."