When boxer Guillermo Rigondeaux first met Jesse Reid, the trainer tried to change him. Reid had stewarded two dozen boxers to championships, many trained in an aggressive style with a high punch output.

Over a decade later, the Cuban boxer remains almost precisely what he was when he began, just as he prepares to face John Riel Casimero in Carson at Dignity Health Sports Park.


What You Need To Know

  • Guillermo Rigondeaux (20-1) faces John Riel Casimero (30-4) Saturday

  • The fight is scheduled to take place at Dignity Health Sports Park in Carson

  • Rigondeaux, 40, has won two gold medals and is considered among the best Cuban amateurs in history

  • The fight will be contested at 118 pounds

Back then, Rigondeaux was brand new as a professional. Already a two-time Olympic gold medalist with a 374-12 record, he had a style all his own that had carried him to win against the very best. Reid had come in to assist Freddy Roach at Wild Card gym and was stretched thin with a stable of boxers, including superstar Manny Pacquiao. Rigondeaux made a memorable first impression. 

"When I first met him, I was standing talking, eye to eye, and he jumped right over me," Reid said. "I'm about 5-feet, 9-inches or 5-feet, 10-inches, and he went right over the top of me."

It was a union of perhaps the Cuban boxing school's greatest students, an elite defensive fighter able to shift his counter-punching attack the way a baseball ace disorients batters with fastballs followed by off-speed pitches. With the suite of skills came unrivaled precision, each punch landing only where intended. The combination, delivered by a left-hander with an unfamiliar style, was a recipe for slow-paced fights.

"I tried to get him from 20 punches a round to 100," Reid said. "I got him up to about 60."

Reid never got him to the aggressiveness he wanted him to have. 

Since then, Rigondeaux's career has been weighed down by a lengthy list of commentators, writers and broadcasters who all call him boring. His former promoter, Bob Arum, called him boring and publicly begged for him to be more aggressive. Main Events promoter Kathy Duva called his personality off-putting. Former HBO broadcaster Jim Lampley said he didn’t find the Cuban’s style compelling.

Even so, time and again, his peers and trainers marvel at his skill.

Roach told ESPN in 2012 that Rigondeaux was "probably the greatest" talent he had ever seen. He was so impressed that he chose not to allow Rigondeaux to spar household name Pacquiao.

Rigondeaux is as complex to understand for fans as he is for most fighters. His matches are as far from the spectacle of "Rocky" as possible. He's not known for trash talk, and he doesn't seem all that bothered that fans find him boring.

Fight analyst Frank Lotierzo said fans don't understand him, and with every move comes the threat of a devastating counter punch. Rigondeaux takes a back seat to no fighter.

"A lot of the things he does can't be learned, and all the things that can be learned he does," Lotierzo said.

His signature victory came against the dangerous Nonito Donaire, a power punching star who some believed had emerged as an heir to Pacquiao.

Over 12 rounds, Rigondeaux slowed Donaire into a disorganized approach. His corner had little in the way of advice. The lone highlight for Donaire was a 10th round knockdown. Rigondeaux fell back onto the seat of his trunks, rose and gave a small bow.

It was less a gesture of respect than a warning that Rigondeaux would again impose his will. He did. Rigondeaux hurt Donaire with a straight left hand, forcing the champion to glue his right hand to his eye, vainly swatting at the smaller challenger with left hooks.

It was an exhibition of all things Rigondeaux could do that excited some and infuriated others. He had cowed a great champion into a lethargic performance. And, when he was in trouble, he managed to impose himself at will. The prevailing frustration was, why doesn't he do that all the time?

Rigondeaux has said he considers himself an artist, with his highest achievement being his precision and economy. To wade into a brawl would not be art to him, nor his best chance at winning.

While he had built a reputation as a defensive wizard who could hurt the best fighters in the sport whenever he wanted, he didn't get more chances to prove it. Not until he faced Vasily Lomachenko, a much younger, much bigger fighter who insisted they fight at 130 pounds.

Rigondeaux retired after six rounds. 

"Lomachenko was just too big for him. He just wasn't going to beat him. That's why they have weight classes," Lotierzo said. "The problem with fans is when a guy gets beat, they turn on them, and they need to be retrained."

With Rigondeaux's career nearing its conclusion, he only has so many more chances to impress. When that end comes may not be clear until we see it in the ring.

"He could get old at any time, and we just don't know when it's going to happen," Lotierzo said.