http://www.newsreview.com/sacramento/content?oid=14761
If Corrales was on top of his game inside the ring, he was losing control outside it. An argument with his then-wife Maria had escalated into a violent dispute, and Corrales’ court date loomed. A high-profile match with Mayweather was hurriedly put together, with some people contending that Corrales was being auctioned off--cashed out by the promoter while his career was still viable.
In the months leading up to the Mayweather fight, Corrales also found out his IBF 130-pound title had been abdicated by managers--and conveniently given to another fighter in their stable.
“I had a real-estate company at the time in Phoenix. Next thing I know, one of my friends comes on the computer and says, ‘You vacated your belt?’” said Corrales. At that time, he was having difficulty getting his weight down. “I’m starting to read this article about me giving up my title. And I felt like I didn’t have the opportunity to give up my belt. It was my right to give that up.”
Corrales sued his managers and settled in arbitration for an undisclosed sum. It was another distraction he didn’t need.
But Corrales didn’t care about any of that; he simply wanted to fight Mayweather and resolve their bitter rivalry in the ring. It was time to settle affairs with a man who’d taunted him endlessly about his personal problems with his wife and virtually everything else, too. Corrales is not quick to exchange verbal barbs; he bided his time, seething as Floyd milked every public appearance with a mounting tide of threats, insults and goading. Finally, Corrales succumbed, and the bad blood was flowing freely in both directions. With combined black and Hispanic fan bases, the bout was a natural headliner to kick off HBO’s 2001 broadcast schedule.
For Corrales, it meant making the dreaded 130-pound limit one last time; one final episode of long days with only a grapefruit to eat, of jogging in rubber suits and of endless steam baths to get down to the limit. One more time, and he’d be off to the 135-pound lightweights and living fat, never having to take off those terrible final pounds again.
He walked up to the scale, and the fight was, in a sense, lost right there. For all his efforts in the steam bath that morning, shedding 8 pounds, he was still 132--two pounds overweight. He went back and sucked the 2 pounds off in time for the weigh-in. A day later, his body both starved and waterlogged from his ensuing rehydration, he entered the ring--146 pounds at fight time--and the results were a disaster.
“I didn’t really realize ’til the third or fourth round that everything was going bad,” said Corrales. “And I was cramping up. … My legs started cramping real good, and I’m going, ‘What’s the deal here?’”
The blood feud had gotten the best of Corrales, his fury clouding years of training and technique. After being picked apart in a surgical manner, Corrales was floored three times in the seventh. He kept pressing, and Mayweather kept hitting him. Finally, in the 10th round, after the fifth knockdown, his stepfather waved the bout off and saved him from moot punishment.
“What the hell are you doing?” screamed Corrales. Woods, mindful of his stepson’s pride, shook his head--mute, yet resolute. Chico would take no more.
“I would rather fell out dead in that ring than let that fight pass me by like it did,” Corrales said. “I don’t think I talked to my dad for two weeks after that. I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him about it. When it came up, I told him, ‘Hey, I felt what you did was wrong. But it’s water under the bridge.’”