L.a. Glory

A rematch was agreed to even before they climbed into the ring last Saturday night, but it's still hard to imagine that Sugar Shane Mosley and Oscar De La Hoya will cross paths again. They took such different routes to their violent intersection, and now that the fight is over, they seem so likely to travel apart that another meeting feels wrong—improper actually. Mosley , who had to scrabble unnoticed all those years, is at last on his way up. De La Hoya , who has been such a famous boxer that he even had his own milk ad, is on his way out. On the basis of a single spectacular round, one career was belatedly born and another effectively completed. That's just the way it goes.

De La Hoya , who definitely did not win that critical 12th round, understood this when he finally appeared before the press following his second loss in his last three bouts. Acknowledging that he might change his mind, as might anyone whose paydays exceed $15 million, he said it was time to get off boxing's merry-go-round, which would have him chasing a circular redemption: a rematch with Mosley and, if De La Hoya won, a third fight. A rematch with Felix Trinidad , who beat him last fall, and perhaps another after that. "All for money," De La Hoya said. "Just money."

He could see how it might never end and might lure him into that desperate territory where boxers grow groggy trying to recapture a lost moment, say Saturday's 12th round. That's how a promoter might encourage him. "But I don't see it that way," said De La Hoya .

If he does retire, this would be a pretty good way to go out. It would mean an end to a career that was part heroic and part baffling, beginning with an Olympic gold medal in 1992 and stretching through world tides in four weight divisions and a few reluctant performances. Yet it would be an impressive end. For once, as if bowing to his critics, especially those in his native East Los Angeles , De La Hoya unfurled all his talents, fought with all his heart, flat-footedly whaling at the quicker Mosley . He was the fighter everyone knew throbbed inside that show-business package, a kid who really had as much character as charisma after all.

That his valor didn't carry him to victory—though it very nearly did; the bout ended in a split decision and the WBC welterweight tide for Mosley—brings no shame to De La Hoya . He understood this, too. All the more reason to quit, knowing that the best he had to offer was no longer enough, and that the stage now belonged to a dimpled and thoroughly uncomplicated boxer such as Mosley . It was over, or ought to be.

For Mosley , another L.A. fighter who at 28 is actually a year older than his more famous crosstown rival, this is only the beginning. His career, hobbled by a loss in the same Olympic trials that launched De La Hoya to stardom, had percolated locally without distinction until promoter Cedric Kushner got him a shot at IBF lightweight champion Philip Holiday in 1997. Mosley won that one by decision, and then a succession of knockouts earned him national attention and finally brought him, as a welterweight, back to De La Hoya , with whom he'd often sparred during their amateur days. Their fight Saturday was not Destiny, as promoter Bob Arum bannered it, but it sure was compelling.

Mosley was the ingenue in this show, though he'd had 34 bouts to De La Hoya 's 33, and there was widespread speculation that he would wilt under the pressure De La Hoya would apply in L.A. 's sold-out Staples Center . Mosley wasn't cowed. "Why be afraid of something I want?" he asked. Indeed, of the two boxers, he was by far the more relaxed going into the fight. He'd grown up in the suburban ease of Pomona , where his talents (from basketball to the trumpet) were always encouraged, and he didn't seem vulnerable to disappointment.

De La Hoya , whose ring earnings have outstripped Mosley 's by more than $100 million and who had been tested in some of boxing's biggest events, seemed his usual edgy, beady-eyed self. "Maybe it won't affeet Shane," he said last week of the prefight hype. Yet it always affects De La Hoya . "I feel nervous even now," he said, citing a lifetime of "having to carry the show."

Still, he didn't seem particularly nervous or exhausted when the fight finally began. He pressed the action, just as he'd promised. "Attack, attack, attack," he'd said of his plan, having heard jeers for tiptoeing to defeat in the welterweight unification bout with Trinidad , and that's what he did, to the relief of fans and critics alike. "It was," De La Hoya said afterward, "a slugfest. Fun for everybody."

Mosley , who lacks De La Hoya 's power, moved backward throughout, but his hand speed kept him in the bout. Although De La Hoya landed no devastating punches, his celebrated left hand was like a hammer waiting to drop. Mosley , constantly circling out of reach, rushed forward to pop De La Hoya often enough to score points but did not risk brawling with him.