No rest: Rudy Hernandez’s work never ends

Rudy Hernandez estimates he works 48 fight weekends out of the 52 on the calendar.

Through his versatile trade as a trainer for WBC bantamweight champion Junto Nakatani (28-0, 21 KOs) and WBO flyweight champion Anthony Olascuaga (7-1, 5 KOs), as a prolific cutman for both the Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC), Professional Fighters League (PFL) and in boxing, and as the big brother of the beloved late super-featherweight champion Genaro “Chicanito” Hernandez, Rudy Hernandez has dedicated himself to combat sports for pure reasons.

“I’m on a mission. My mission is to help the next person in life,” Hernandez said. “Boxing is a place where I meet a whole lot of people. I go to the boxing gym every day hoping to make a better life for someone.”

The most tangible examples of that in boxing are how Hernandez has meticulously developed Nakatani and Olascuaga, fighters he met in their youths who will accompany him to Japan in October, when Hernandez marks his 62nd birthday by cornering both of his champions on a middle-of-the-month card to be formally announced later this week.

Olascuaga will meet Puerto Rico’s Jonathan Gonzalez (28-3-1, 14 KOs) and three-division champion Nakatani returns from his first-round knockout of contender Vincent Astrolabio on July 20.

Nakatani recently struck a promotional pact with U.S.-based Top Rank that is expected to enhance his global appeal and move him toward the pound-for-pound champion operating with the same alliance, unbeaten four-division and current super-bantamweight champion Naoya Inoue.

“I hope it transpires. As far as I’m concerned, Inoue is the No. 1 pound-for-pound fighter in the world. In order to be great, you’ve got to fight great,” Hernandez said. “We’ll be up for the challenge when we move up, maybe next year.”

Backing Naktani will be a boxing lifer whose rich investment in the sport gives him the confidence to believe they can topple the more famous countryman.

“I believe in Junto and we have everything to win and nothing to lose,” Hernandez said.

The fighter-trainer connection began when a then-14-year-old Nakatani was introduced to Hernandez. Upon a trip to Japan, Hernandez said he met Nakatani’s parents, and they asked if the then-15-year-old could train with him in the U.S.

Hernandez maintains so much respect for Japanese culture.

“There’s a different structure in Japan. More respect, more discipline, more everything,” Hernandez said. “That country is smaller than California and yet it’s a powerhouse. They don’t look at what happened yesterday. They’re looking at the moment. The kids are held accountable.”

Hernandez is all about that.

He was famously in the corner of his brother in 1997, when Genaro was knocked down by getting hit in the throat after the bell to close the seventh round by champion Azumah Nelson. Had he remained down or acted more hurt, Hernandez would’ve won by disqualification.

Rudy would have none of it.

“Get your ass back up and continue painting the masterpiece you’re painting,” Rudy told Genaro. “Championships aren’t earned fighting from our backs. Now, get your ass up and finish this.”

The advice and performance won Genaro his first world title and enormous respect, as he proceeded to successfully defend the belt three more times before retiring following a loss to Floyd Mayweather Jr.

Rudy started boxing first, 50 years ago, and Genaro watched him in the gym for a year to quickly learn footwork, then tapped into his competitive streak sharpened among four Hernandez brothers by staging their own Mexican tag-team wrestling matches.

The older brother marveled at how his more talented sibling would rise for 4:30 a.m. runs in solitude, and return to the gym for intense sessions at 7:30 a.m.

There was a shared dedication to the grind, a mutual embrace of the challenge of a new day.

“That was his job, he would do it, and he didn’t care if anyone joined him or not,” Rudy admired.

In his early 40s, however, Genaro was afflicted by a rare form of cancer, and he died at age 45 in 2011.

“When my brother passed, I felt like I lost a son because I was his go-to. Whatever was going on in his life – good news or bad news – he would call me,” Rudy said. “It was hard. On the same token, when my mother died on a Thursday in 2004, I was in the gym that same morning.

“People would say, ‘Hey, your mother just passed away … .’ I said, ‘Yes, but is the clock ticking? Did the sun come up? And will it go back down? Life is too short. I can’t be wasting time. So my ass was right back in the gym because that’s where I find comfort and balance.

“My life has nothing to do with anyone else’s but my own. I feel driven to lead by example. Everybody has a life to live. That was (Genaro’s) life. That was his story. That’s how it was written. That’s how it ended.

“Mine is a different story.”

One of his tales is cornering Mike Alvarado to an interim title fight one Saturday night in Las Vegas, then returning to work for a young amateur the next afternoon in Southern California.

When someone asked why he didn’t blow off the assignment, Hernandez said, “This fight means as much to this kid as last night’s meant to Alvarado.” 

He’ll often be required to treat a cut and provide motivational direction during the same minute-long break between rounds.

“I perform well under pressure,” Hernandez said. “I don’t know why. That’s my thing.”

Among all the road trips he takes, one of Hernandez’s most frequent is that drive from his home in South Central Los Angeles to Las Vegas.

It used to be a time for loud music. Now, in his 60s, Hernandez silences everything and ponders deep thoughts.

“If I die tomorrow, will the world be a better place because I existed?” he asked himself recently.

“That’s how I try to live my life,” he answered. “To be good, to be the best and try to bring out the best in the guys I work with.”

Then came another … .

“Do you want to be remembered by 100 people or missed by two?”

“I’d rather be missed by two because if you’re missed by two that means you had an impact on them in a good way,” he said. “That’s the way I want to lead my life.”

It’s about not taking the easy way out.

No one has ever heard Rudy Hernandez say, “Work smarter, not harder.”

With Nakatani at age 26, Hernandez says the fighter “is the best I’ve ever trained.”

Pause right there, soak that in.

Raising Nakatani to three division championships, building up the Inoue bout, showcasing the fighter to the world is the essence of a boxing life well lived.

“We’ve done a great job so far, but it doesn’t stop,” Hernandez said. “We get up and go to work for the next one and the next one after that. Many times, it’s not about being a world champion, but moving forward toward a great life.” 

Lance Pugmire is BoxingScene’s Senior U.S. Writer and an assistant producer for ProBox TV. Pugmire has covered boxing since the early 2000s, first at the Los Angeles Times and then at The Athletic and USA Today. He won the Boxing Writers’ Association of America’s Nat Fleischer Award in 2022 for career excellence.