It’s foggy day schedule at Mission Oak High School.
Richard Torrez Jr. is surrounded by a dozen schoolmates, all in awe, mesmerized, mystified.
Weeks ago, the 17-year-old senior traveled to Russia, donned gloves and boxed the world. He came home the No. 3 boxer in the world in his age and class.
Repeat: He’s ranked No. 3 in the entire world. (Mike Tyson, Evander Holyfield and other boxing greats never achieved that at Torrez’s stage.)
But this crowd of teens isn’t interested in his medals.
“Is this,” Torrez mumbles, clinching a seven of diamonds in his teeth, “your card?”
The small crowd bursts in shock and delight. No one sees how the card got there.
And it’s indeed the card a teacher had pulled from a full deck. Torrez continues shuffling the seven of diamonds, retrieving it over and over in seemingly mystical ways.
The crowd eats it up.
“They called me ‘The Magician,’ ” Torrez says about his esteemed team of 10 teen boxers representing the United States.
His card tricks are impressive.
But try being a teenager halfway across the world, in a frozen country with that serves disgusting sausages, with competitors from 53 nations, arguing with Russian hotel security while trying to train, fighting in a packed arena with a Super Bowl environment, making your nation and your small hometown proud despite all of the challenges.
That, right there, is the real magic.
First stop: Colorado
Torrez, or “Kiki,” as loved ones have called him since childhood, is into boxing and sports and magic and all kinds of fun stuff.
But you know what’s not totally fun? Hitting the heavy bag for 45 minutes straight … on your Sunday of rest … just to show your coaches you mean business.
That’s what Torrez and his teammates decided to do while training for two weeks at the Colorado Springs Olympic Training Center. As if the three-a-day workouts starting at 6 a.m. weren’t enough. As if sparring with men from the Army’s official boxing team wasn’t enough.
Remember, these are 17- and 18-year-olds away from homes all over — New York, Houston, Philadelphia, Las Vegas, Cleveland, Fresno, and, yes, Tulare.
Each teen had won a tournament — Torrez’s was in Reno, Nev., at the 200-pounds plus super heavyweight division, via two TKOs — earning rights to represent the United States at the AIBA Youth World Championships.
But before they hit Saint Petersburg, Russia, they trained as Olympians.
It wasn’t just a physical grind. Last year, Torrez traveled to Russia for the same tournament, but in the 15-16 age division. He finished fifth.
Back then he lost 17 pounds in two weeks because of food that “wasn’t too appeasing.”
“They had eggs that look like Jello. They shook and everything,” Torrez said. “And they had these disgusting sausages.” The latter, Torrez said, seem to get smaller, smellier and more discolored each day. He survived on paprika-flavored Pringles.
But more than anything, he says, back then he didn’t mentally handle the grand spectacle of the world tournament — crowds, media and frenzy in various forms.
Training at Olympic headquarters was his chance to sharpen his mental focus.
“I would visualize myself in the ring,” Torrez said. “I wanted to be able to stay calm in the ring.”
Champions, Torrez knew, are physically and mentally powerful.
This year, he would lose 12 pounds — all from workouts and eating the right way in the Olympic cafeteria.
Well, there was a little fun here and there in Olympic land.
“They had fudge Fridays, with hot fudge,” Torrez said. “Man, I loved fudge Fridays.”
Final stop: Saint Petersburg, Russia
Kiki is into robotics and chess and computers and his AP calculus and physics classes. You know what he’s not so much into? Arriving in Russia when it’s 32 degrees. And it’s not so great walking parts of a mile every day between the hotel and the arena in snow, rain, slush and other dour weather.
By the way, it took 17 hours to fly there.
Glory isn’t easy.
The hotel was actually a converted old castle. And hotel security treated themselves like royal guards, especially when Team USA would run, shadow box and train in the hallways. Sometimes the guards yelled in Russian or even ran after them.
“Our coach [when a guard approached] had us sit down real quick,” Torrez said, “and act like he was giving us a speech.” (Who listens to a speech doused in sweat and breathing heavily?)
Torrez’s first of four fights came soon after opening day ceremonies.
Russian singers. Russian ballet. Russian models in short skirts carrying foreigners flags, including America’s. Spectacle everywhere.
This was a Super Bowl setting on Russian turf.
“Last year it hit me, it shocked me,” he said. “It’s something you can’t prepare for.”
A nervous boxer might have shaky legs. He might rush in and smother his own punches.
Torrez found his mental focus and continued.
He won his first three fights over two weeks — two knockouts and one unanimous decision.
He played the trip smarter. This time his dad helped him find the right foods, including delicious pasta with protein.
He bonded with his teammates, who were as driven as he. These weren’t your typical vacationing teenagers trying to live it up.
“Everyone wants to have fun, but everyone also has their own goals,” he said. “We all understand; we’ve all made sacrifices.”
Bringing it home
Richard Torrez Jr. is into being a proud American, especially when he’s atop an Olympic-style winner’s podium.
“When you stand on that podium, it’s bittersweet,” he said of his bronze finish at amateur boxing’s biggest youth stage. “My flag is being raised, but Australia’s flag is being raised higher.”
Torrez lost his semifinal match, a tense unanimous decision that had only a point difference on all judge cards.
“Everything you worked so hard for,” Torrez said, “and you were just this close.”
Still, Torrez returned to Tulare with a hero’s welcome. Well … actually … he kind of gets that daily anyways. People adore the kid.
Earlier this year, Torrez was honored by the county schools’ Character Counts program. It was proof of what many already knew: Torrez is admired by his classmates, teachers and pretty much all who know him — as an athlete, scholar, citizen, friend and all the spaces between. Much of that comes from the fact that he’s just as likely to impress you with an athletic feat as an engineering project.
He can trip you out with a magic trick.
And computer coding.
And — watch out — a pulverizing three-punch combination.
And overall enthusiasm for life that’s contagious.
It’s back to the daily grind now. Honors classes. College applications. Asking a girl to winter formal with a stuffed bear. Training to box the world’s greatest again next year.
Physical and mental grinds.
But Torrez also takes times to enjoy all of it.
Entering the ring for that final fight in Russia — with the packed arena in peak frenzy, anticipating the biggest fight in the biggest pound-for-pound division — Torrez looked up.
His giant face was on a giant video screen.
“I tried to be cool, but I looked, I smiled,” he said. “I was cheesin.’”
That’s the Kiki way. And it’s pretty magical.
Proud father
Richard Torrez Sr., a longtime boxing trainer and himself a star amateur boxer in his days, is another fan of his son’s many talents. While professional fight promoters are already keeping close tabs on his son, Torrez Sr. says: “I’m proud of my son being able to stay focused and humble in his success. He has maintained his high GPA and continues his school involvement and connection with the community. It is very easy to begin believing your own press and thinking that rules don't apply to you. He has made it a goal of his to go to college and become an engineer. I am proud to say that he is a fine young man that will be successful no matter which path he chooses to follow.”