My cousin, Vicente "El Picosito" Garcia Jr., whom I only met once was shot and killed. Picosito embraced boxing and the people in his life gave him a fighting chance at prosperity. It was in the shadows of a prideful Chicano culture where Picosito fought his last fight, and was ruthlessly murdered. I feel guilty claiming him, because it wasn't until 4-5 years before his death that our family was able to begin the reconciliation process. Reconciliation for circumstances that distance him form us. He was an aspiring boxer and future contender. Raised in California and New Mexico, he brandished the qualities that athletes hope for. I never got to know him as a young man. I played with him once for a short time in front of our grandparent's house. He was around 8. I am fortunate to have that memory.
Happy Birthday Primo