RIP Ismael Laguna: ‘The Tiger’ And His Cousin Beto

I never met Ismael Laguna, but I knew Beto Laguna, a man who told me he was his cousin.

“He lived a few blocks away,” he said, and told me he would sometimes join Ismael whenever he saw the Panamanian doing road work.

“He used to kick a soccer ball,” Beto told me. “That’s how he developed his footwork, miles and miles of dribbling a soccer ball – great soccer player too.”

“I was there when he beat Daniel Guanin, ever heard of him?” There were about 25,000 at the Juan D. Arosemena baseball stadium in Panama City.

“Half of Colón was there,” he said matter-of-factly. Guanin, he said, was big news in Panama, being considered one of the top 3 or 4 from South America at the time, according to Beto. And “He had just beaten Humberto Trottman, another Panamanian – so we knew he was good.”

Laguna (65-9-1, 37 KOs) stopped Guanin in three rounds on a cut, and Beto told me Laguna was so fast that night, his feet looked like they “were kicking up dust.” That was the second time I had heard about Laguna’s speed. Boxing historian Herb Goldman considered Laguna to be the fastest bantamweight and featherweight he had ever seen.

Before becoming champion in the lightweight division, Laguna was ranked number one at bantamweight by The Ring Magazine in 1962. The following year, he was ranked number one at featherweight.

“Eder Jofre wouldn’t fight him,” Beto told me. “Duran was afraid of him too, yeah, I said it.”

Beto was the kind of guy who would reply to an email that said, “DO NOT REPLY TO THIS EMAIL.” He’d shrug his shoulders and say, “Somebody sent it. Somebody gotta receive it.”

But Beto was also one of those talkers who can make you feel as though you have been transported somewhere else just by listening to him talk. You could smell Ismael’s favorite soup from their front porch, he said, and once joined the champ there and shared a bowl of rondon – a coconut and fish soup. “He was a vegetarian,” Beto said. “I never seen him eat meat.”

Laguna was called “The Tiger from Colon” throughout his fighting days. Beto said he was also called “salty” or “cuerito” – because as a youth his job was salting the animal hides at a local restaurant. According to Beto, after work, he would jog home sideways. “Just like he did when he fought in the ring,” he laughed. “When he fought Carlos Ortiz and started moving side-to-side, I was like, yeah, Cuerito, just like you used to in la Zona Libre.”

I believed him.

Or at least I wanted to.

Beto was a devoted Panamanian boxing fan. He rooted almost exclusively for fighters from his homeland – Eusebio Pedroza, Jorge Luján, Guillermo Jones and others. He particularly loved his Brooklyn neighbor, Rafael Williams, whom Beto insisted was one of the best fighters in the world.

But when the conversation turned to the greatest fighter Panama had ever produced, Beto had an unpopular opinion.

To Beto, Durán was number two.

And even that, he said, was debatable because Durán wasn’t from Colón.

“Maybe he comes behind Panama Al Brown,” he mused.

Then Durán beat Sugar Ray Leonard and, for a few months, Beto conceded.

Then came “No Más.”

That settled it.

Beto went right back to Laguna.

“He can’t be number one after that,” he reasoned. It was a convincing argument, he raised. Believable even. But I have reason to doubt some of the other things Beto told me.

“Did Ismael’s brother box? His twin brother,” I asked.

“Were they identical twins?”

Beto looked at me.

“Twin?”

“Yes,” I said. “Carlos Laguna. They were twins.”

Beto remained silent. And that was when I began to wonder.

The soccer ball.

The sideways roadwork.

The childhood encounters in Colón.

The coconut soup.

Were they true?

I finally said, “I thought you told me you were cousins.”

Beto shook his head.

“I’m only related to the famous twin.”

Now, with the death of Ismael Laguna at 83, I find myself thinking about the loss of one of boxing’s best boxers – one of the fastest, one of the most durable.

And I find myself thinking of Beto and those conversations by Prospect Park.

The Tiger of Colón.

A two-time world lightweight champion. A magnificent boxer who could move, think, and fight with a style that was sometimes similar to the one Ray Leonard used to beat Duran in their rematch.

To Beto, he was more than a champion.

He was family.

And I get a feeling that many in Colón feel the same way about Ismael.

Rest in peace, Tiger.

Jose Corpas

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