Throughout much of the 1990s, “The Golden Boy” built a reputation on his talent and stardom. He wasn’t unbeatable, necessarily, but unbeaten until a controversial 1999 loss to welterweight rival Félix Trinidad.

Apart from the speed, power and popularity, De La Hoya was also unflappable. Unlike his pound-for-pound competition Roy Jones and Pernell Whitaker Jr., De La Hoya wasn’t incredibly difficult to hit, and opponents occasionally got him on the deck. It’s just that knocking him down also meant waking him up.

In 2002, Fernando Vargas figured out the only other way to derail the star: trash talk. Vargas took aim at his Southern California nemesis for years, accusing De La Hoya of being a manufactured star and questioning his sexuality. A consummate professional, De La Hoya allowed Vargas’ incendiary words to flow over him like water across a stone. He dismissed Vargas, but usually didn’t engage.

Vargas turned the fight into a win-at-all-costs scenario for himself, and De La Hoya parlayed his rival’s insecurity into one of his crowning achievements: the pre-fight animosity and drama of a fight card dubbed “Bad Blood” sold enough tickets and pay-per-views to place it second behind only Trinidad-De la Hoya in non-heavyweight fight sales. Then “The Golden Boy” overcame a fast start to batter and stop Vargas, who later tested positive for an anabolic steroid.

The win seemed to erase some of the lingering doubt stemming from De La Hoya’s loss to Trinidad, in which Oscar mistakenly believed himself far enough ahead on the judges’ cards to disengage in the last handful of rounds.

De La Hoya’s record over the next few years reflected his changing priorities and waning interest in being a professional fighter. Whereas he averaged more than two fights in a year in the last half of the 1990s, De La Hoya fought only once a year in the four years after the Vargas win. He went 2-2 in those four fights and could have easily gone 1-3 if his dubious victory over Felix Sturm were scored by competent judges.

Shane Mosley handed De La Hoya a second close decision loss in 2003, which was understandable and nothing to be ashamed of. But when the Sturm fight suggested his move up to middleweight didn’t suit him physically, Bernard Hopkins confirmed it by knocking De La Hoya out with a body shot in 2004.

Golden Boy Promotions, De La Hoya’s promotional outfit, became more of a focus in De La Hoya’s life than actually being a fighter. Nearly two decades of being in the gym added up, and being in his early thirties meant he would slow down soon anyway, so he went on hiatus for more than 18 months. That said, there is no switch a fighter can simply turn off. The last thing to go isn’t punching power, but a fighter’s pride.

Ricardo Mayorga represented the perfect foil for… really almost anyone. The outlandish former welterweight champion from Nicaragua had been described as everything from a “wild man” to a “savage.” He cocked his jaw out at opponents, inviting them to punch him, and he yelled at them mid-fight.

Before his breakout win over Vernon Forrest in 2003, Mayorga ate a slice of pizza on the scale and weighed in comfortably under the limit. He told Cory Spinks he would send him to be with his deceased mother. That brand of cursing and maligning could sell tickets, and it didn’t rely on any sort of Nicaraguan vs. Mexican or even Mexican-American narrative. And that level of insult could get De La Hoya’s blood pressure up again.

Most importantly, Mayorga also held De La Hoya’s old WBC super welterweight title. Any fighter could call De La Hoya out and sling mud at him, but Mayorga actually had something he wanted: a portion of the junior middleweight title taken from him in a second close loss to Shane Mosley.

De la Hoya and Mayorga, who fought 20 years ago Wednesday at MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas, first met when shooting a commercial for their fight, not long after it was signed in 2006. “The Golden Boy” said: “We shook hands and everything. Then all of a sudden, [Mayorga] flips and starts getting all emotional. It was weird. It was like he was revving himself up.”

Mayorga, 27-5-1 (22 KOs) at the time, was a reformed gang member who claimed to have many more street fights than actual pro fights in a ring. He fought alongside longtime pal Rosendo Álvarez in the amateurs and wasn’t completely without skill, though his awkward punch delivery and impetuous style made him dangerous.

Three of Mayorga’s losses came early in his career at lower weights. He then temporarily managed to balance a life of fighting with cigarette smoking and beer drinking, somehow winning two world titles as a part-time troublemaker in Don King’s promotional stable. The two recent losses were problematic, however, because Mayorga staked his reputation on being an unmovable bully.

A close loss to Cory Spinks could be explained away by Spinks’ incredibly difficult style, and Mayorga thought Spinks deserved to lose the fight for all the flopping around he did. But he went punch-for-punch with a comebacking Félix Trinidad and was clearly out-gunned, left with no workable excuses. And once a bully has been bullied, that aura does not return.

That doesn’t mean Mayorga lost his ability to be obnoxious. At first, most of his insults mirrored Vargas’ comments from years before. De La Hoya was a fake, he wasn’t a real man, the usual. Next Mayorga claimed he wanted to avenge his “idol” Julio César Chávez’s two losses to De La Hoya, which drew more laughs than anything.

It would take more than that and Mayorga knew it, so he poked at De La Hoya’s rocky personal life.

“Let me have your wife for a night and I’ll let you have the belt for a night,” Mayorga said. “I’m here to help you [figure out] what you want to be. Whether it’s a boxer or a promoter, don’t come with excuses like you always do.”

With the help of a smack to the back of the head from Mayorga, the press conference insults and outbursts finally drew a rebuke from De La Hoya, who warned the Nicaraguan against mentioning his wife or calling him a race traitor. It was the reaction Mayorga thought he wanted, or at least claimed he wanted.

A more realistic peek into Mayorga’s psyche was revealed when he threatened to pull out of the bout days in advance unless he would be guaranteed $8 million to de la Hoya’s $10 million, which was either a bluff or a way to pull out of the fight entirely. His reported guarantee of $2 million would have to do, and since Mayorga fought, it clearly did.

Nobody sane thought De La Hoya would stand in front of Mayorga. With a better lead hand and more conventional boxing skill, De La Hoya had the ability to set the distance and pace of the bout, to work how he pleased. But De La Hoya stood his ground in the opening minute of the fight and timed a left hook that put Mayorga down.

The champion rose from the canvas and retreated like any bully would. De La Hoya walked him down and hurt him with a series of punches at the two-minute mark. Mayorga lashed out and landed enough to keep De La Hoya from getting reckless and to make it to the bell.

Mayorga wanted to turn the fight into a brawl and give himself a chance to win, and a big right uppercut in round 3 nearly opened the door for him. But De La Hoya’s chin was still sturdy after all those years. Most of what Mayorga landed came at a price, as De La Hoya timed him on the way in with both hands and softened him up over the next few rounds.

Round 6 began with De La Hoya completely on the front foot, which is how he stood to give his left hook more leverage. One minute into the round, a combination that started to the body and ended with a few left hooks put Mayorga down again. This time, Mayorga got up with a different and more resigned look on his face. When the fight resumed, De La Hoya attacked and threw nearly 40 punches, forcing referee Jay Nady to step in and end matters.

“He got under my skin,” De La Hoya admitted after the fight. “I had to show the bully that I wasn’t going to back down.”

As he had before, Mayorga sheepishly admitted defeat and apologized for his pre-fight words. He wasn’t that hurt, he said, just sad about losing his title.

In the 20 years since De la Hoya-Mayorga, the landscape of boxing’s superstars transformed alongside the evolution of media consumption. At this point it’s difficult to imagine a top-selling fight not involving Floyd Mayweather or Manny Pacquiao. But in 2006, De La Hoya-Mayorga became boxing’s fourth-highest selling non-heavyweight bout, and the top fight spots were all occupied by “The Golden Boy.”

De La Hoya eventually crossed paths with both Mayweather and Pacquiao, and claimed he laid the blueprint to defeat the still-unbeaten Mayweather. More accurately, he paved the way for the next generation of the sport’s stars and used venom from opponents like Mayorga as fuel.