Mayfield looks to make a name for himself

(06-08) 23:34 PDT -- Boxers subject themselves to strict diets, long runs and punches to the head and stomach to win better lives. Many, like the Fillmore's Karim Mayfield, survived the inner-city streets and walk into a gym for the first time with their fists already balled up.

And they learn the hard way that promoters are just as dangerous as the men they'll be staring down in the ring.

Mayfield thinks "all the sneaky business" might be behind him as he headlines a fight card for the first time Saturday night at Kezar Pavilion. The welterweight wasn't under contract with his promoter, so he was an easy target for other deal-makers. They made sure that Mayfield always came into fights as the opponent, the other guy, the nobody.

"I've always had to fight on someone else's terms," Mayfield said. "Not only what weight to fight at, but the other fighter's promoter would wait to call me and offer me the fight until the last minute.

"He might know he needs someone in a month and a half, but he'll wait until two weeks before the fight, offer me a couple of thousand dollars and say 'Take it or leave it.' "

Mayfield took the short end of the stick and beat the promoters' fighters with it in a flurry of strikes. He is 12-0-1 with seven knockouts, and he says eight of those fights were last-minute deals against fighters who were supposed to beat him.

A quick counterpuncher, Mayfield, 29, throws shots from all angles and though he might look wild at times, he packs a lot of power and has a good chin.

On Saturday, the 2006 California Golden Gloves champion gets to be the favorite, going against Sergio De La Torre (11-13-3) in an effort to build some support and momentum toward an even bigger local fight. Doors open at 6 p.m., with the bell for the first undercard fight ringing at 7. Tickets range from $15 to $75.

"This is like a dream come true for me, to fight in my city in front of my people," Mayfield said. "I am very, very excited."

This is the first pro boxing card in San Francisco since heavyweight David Rodrigues headlined a 2004 show at the Longshoremen's Hall near Fisherman's Wharf. Kezar hosted heavyweight champ Rocky Marciano 55 years ago, but overhead costs in the city are very high, and there haven't been many fights since the 1990s heyday of local Irish brawler Pat Lawlor.

Could that be about to change?

"There's a great boxing history in San Francisco," promoter Phil DiMauro said, "and now fans have a new local hero."

'Unorthodox and exciting'

DiMauro saw Mayfield, who's 5-foot-7, fight as an amateur and knew he wasn't just another fighter.

"He's unorthodox and exciting," DiMauro said. "He gives the crowd its money's worth, he's made a name for himself, and I think it was meant to be, for him to fight in his hometown."

Mayfield's brother took over managing duties from Los Angeles-based Jackie Kallen - played by Meg Ryan in 2004's "Against the Ropes" - two fights ago.

"We wanted to fight locally, so we made a change," said LaRon Mayfield, who has a music label, Mo' Betta Entertainment, and is a party planner. "We think Karim has the warrior spirit, the potential to be champ ... and this is the time to make our move. This is the time to build him up."

The Mayfields don't need any more hype with the kids in the area. Karim makes regular appearances at youth centers around the area - "giving life lessons" - and the brothers and their mom, Yolanda Banks, host an annual youth camp for 20-25 children at Lake Camanche.

"This fight is for the kids," LaRon Mayfield said. "This shows them there is something different you can do besides hanging on the corner, getting in trouble and dealing drugs. Karim and I come straight out of the Fillmore and we have been to 30-something funerals. ... It doesn't have to end that way."

Boxing as kids

Both Mayfield brothers took to boxing, or organized punch sessions, as children. They would solve differences with cousins and friends by putting five pairs of socks on each hand and going a couple of rounds.

Their dad finally bought them boxing gloves, and they took them to Washington High for bouts during recess. No weight divisions and no spectators - if you wanted to watch, that meant you were next in line to fight.

As he got older, Mayfield stopped fighting for fun. In what now seems like a lifetime ago, he could be a "knucklehead" at times and even spent a couple of days in a juvenile detention center. At least in those days, Mayfield didn't have to worry about someone pulling out a gun when things got heated.

"I grew up in a bad neighborhood, and there were a lot of guys looking to earn their stripes or make a name for themselves," Karim Mayfield said. "So I had to back up everything I said with my fists. Nowadays, you get shot."

Ben Bautista, the executive director of the Straight Forward Club boxing gym who shares training duties with Virgil Hunter, heard about Mayfield's exploits and urged other kids to bring him to the gym. That was 11 years ago.

"You may be undefeated in the streets, but boxing is a different story," Bautista said. "What happens when you throw all those punches and you don't knock the other guy out? Then what are you going to do? Boxing teaches you discipline and self-control."

From amateur to pro

Mayfield did not have his first amateur fight until he was 22 and, after going 41-6, he turned pro when he was 26. He has beaten four previously undefeated fighters and also gained confidence when he sparred against former champions Antonio Margarito, Shane Mosley and Ricky Hatton.

Last week, Mayfield, who lives in Daly City with his wife and three kids, was sparring at the Straight Forward Club in the Tenderloin. There is no shortage of real life downstairs from the gym, and a sweaty Mayfield took a second to reflect on the kids he's trying to get off the street.

"These kids have beefs with each other, and those beefs never get old," he said. "You may not see someone for a long time, but it's still there. That's no way to go through life, always looking in the rearview mirror for someone who is out to get you or worried about the police. There's more out there than that."

E-mail Vittorio Tafur at vtafur@sfchronicle.com.

This article appeared on page B - 1 of the San Francisco Chronicle