Hi, I'm Dave I. Safe Founder of StoryCore.
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And up past the ring, the pride of Islos Anhelis California.
Sinisa Estrada is one of the best boxers out there.
In fact, she holds the record for the fastest knockout in women's boxing.
Just seven seconds into the first round.
Sinisa lands a lightning quick flurry of punches and her opponent goes down a car.
Every athlete is always looking for an edge.
Something to make them just that little bit better than the other guys.
A secret weapon. And ever since she started boxing when she was just eight years old, Sinisa's secret weapon has been her dad, Joe.
When you got your first win, I really lifted your hands up in the air like you were so proud of like you.
Sinisa was 17 when she brought her dad in to record with us in 2010.
She was an amateur boxer on the verge of turning pro.
And her biggest supporter was her dad, who also happens to be her coach.
What are your favorite moments that we've been together?
Well the best is like in the gym and stuff.
And the hardest is also in the gym because that's where we disagree the most.
But why? Because you don't listen.
But the best is in the gym every day.
Athletes like Sinisa show up to games and matches and do things most people can't.
It's like magic. And there's no room on a scoreboard to show all the hard work it took to get there.
And there's no room on a scoreboard to show all the hard work it took to get there.
And there's no room on a scoreboard to show all the hard work it took to get there.
And there's no room on a scoreboard to show all the hard work it took to get there.
And there's no room on a scoreboard to show all the hard work it took to get there.
And there's no room on a scoreboard to show all the hard work it took to get there.
When he was younger, Joe Astrada used to box at his local community center.
It was never something he considered or even wanted for his daughter.
But she had other ideas.
I was watching a boxing fight one day with you and my brother.
I mean, I don't know too many eight-year-old girls who would look at a boxing fight and think it's fun.
But for some reason I did.
She says, hey, dad, do girls box?
And I'm like, yes. A few minutes later, she says, can I box?
And I'm like, sure, baby, you can box.
All right, well, you take me to the gym.
I said, yeah, I'm a month-wind bike.
Maybe even like two months or more.
And she just brings it up again.
Hey, dad, can you take me to the gym?
You told me we're going to take me to the gym.
I remember you kept telling me over and over.
I didn't know how hard it was either.
I just thought I was going to go to a gym and get in the ring and fight because that's what I wanted to do.
She went in and went to ring with this little boy and got hit in the stomach really hard.
She looked at the little kid like, I'm going to get you.
And she just went right at him.
I was just swinging. No technique in her punches.
She just wailed away and it was like, wow, I just saw that.
It was like the coach said, stop, stop.
They stopped the fight.
The little boy was crying.
And that's the moment where I said, my little girl's a fighter.
She was meant to do this.
How does it feel when you see me in the ring?
Well, it hasn't changed from the first time I saw you in the ring.
It's kind of hard. The first time I watched you get hit, I really wanted to jump into that ring.
You'll see me moving and trying to slip every punch.
That's being thrown at you.
I'm actually moving around.
So it's like if they're hitting me, how is it for you?
What do you feel like when you're in the ring?
It's a feeling that's like hard to describe.
Before I'm fighting, I feel so many different emotions.
It's crazy. But once I'm in the ring, I really don't feel anything.
I mean, because I'm so comfortable in there.
It's what I'm meant to do and I want to keep fighting.
Oh, cool. That's good. What I admire about you is how you changed over the years.
And just the person you become.
I'm not who I used to be. You know?
Yeah, he came a long way from being into gangs and stuff.
All of a sudden, me wanting a box, it just all changed.
I completely stopped doing all the drugs and everything that I used to do before.
Because that's the second one.
You made that decision.
It's over. I mean, I'm going to stand right behind her and be a good father to her.
And I love you with all my heart, baby.
And probably you know, and I'll always be.
I love you. Not too long after this interview, Sennisa Estrada fought her first professional match.
And 14 years later, she's the undisputed female minimum weight champion of the world and remains undefeated to this day.
For this next story, we're going to stay in the ring.
But instead of gloves, we'll don a mask.
John Torres Jr. grew up watching his father moonlight as a wrestler and a persona inspired by Lucha Libre Mexican wrestling.
John Torres Sr. died in 2011 and his son came to story core with his dad's best friend and fellow wrestler, Abraham Guzman, to remember him.
My dad, he will always tell me to put him in a chokehold and he will easily break it.
And I was always so impressed by that strength.
He was my hero, man. I remember he had the white boots, the white mask with kind of like a red beak was the falcon.
He was the falcon. Yes. And my dad was a neat freak.
So he fold things a certain way.
And everything was in this giant gym bag.
Every day I would look at that bag and say, man, there's stardom in that bag.
But he would discourage me when I was young.
He always said, you could be something better than that.
Dr. lawyer and then our relationship collided.
There were a lot of absences from him growing up.
But the thing that always brought us back was wrestling.
Over the phone, we will talk about wrestling for like hours.
And I remember he said, I want to tag team with you one day.
And so you started training me.
I learned that you wanted to start wrestling.
So I said, well, let's see what I could do.
And I trained almost every day.
I told my dad and he said, I'll be there Saturday for your debut match.
That Thursday I get a phone call from my cousin.
And he's like, did you hear?
And I was like, no, what?
But he's like, your father.
And when he said my father, I already knew.
I said, my dad died. And he could barely say, yeah, over the phone.
I remember leaning against the wall and just breaking down, crying.
And on the day of my debut, I was at the cemetery, bearing my dad.
That's when I decided that wrestling was my legacy.
One of the things I think about, if he was still alive today, like, how would he feel?
I think he'd be proud because I see a lot in you and him.
You're certain wrestling moves.
I'm like, I've seen that before.
And sometimes when I talk to you, I feel like I'm talking to you that again.
Even the laugh, people don't know it.
But when you laugh, I hear them all the time.
You know, I want to keep his name alive.
And that's what I've been doing ever since.
That's John Torres Jr. in Abraham Guzman, remembering John Torres Senior, also known as the Falcon.
When we come back, how a grandmother became a competitive BMX racer.
Cycling was our life. I mean, that's what we did.
And the nice thing about it was we did it as a family.
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When Kitty Weston Nour started competing as a BMX racer, she was often the only woman on the track.
It was her son Max Nour, a BMX rider himself, and a champion who introduced her to the sport when he was just 10 years old.
I was having a bad week, racing.
And you're giving me pointers.
You got a pedal. You got to keep pedaling.
And at the time, I was like, well, if it looks so easy to you, then why don't you try it?
And it was Mother's Day of 88.
I did my very first race.
I was 40. I borrowed your gloves, I borrowed your helmet, and I rode your bike.
I was hanging on for dear life.
I didn't exactly tear up the track either.
And I said, I told you so.
True. But I tell you what, I had a whole new respect for what you were out there doing.
And the other thing I said was, well, hey, this is something I can do.
At first, I was a little embarrassed, I guess.
But you don't have to do it a little while, and we were traveling together.
It was great. It's kind of our family sport.
It was. So yeah, I thought it was really cool.
How other mothers really looked up to you.
But I was a little concerned.
What was that? People always got hurt, breaking arm, collarbone, and then you ended up having a cycling accident.
You had broken your neck.
And then senior in the hospital was pretty tough, especially considering the doctor's saying she might not walk again.
Right. I was paralyzed from the shoulders down.
But I was very determined that I was going to ride again.
And seeing you get back on the track, I was a little nervous at first.
But you were doing what you loved to do.
I mean, I was really inspiring.
You know, people ask me, you continue to race.
And my question to them is, well, why not?
As long as I can keep the two wheels on the ground, I'm good.
Max is now retired from BMX Racing.
Kitty is 76 and still competing.
She is currently the oldest female BMX racer in the United States.
Now we're going to speed things up.
Every race car driver relies on their crew.
It's impossible to get through a race without them.
A driver and their team can end up being like family.
And in the case of Windel Scott, his crew was his family.
His own sons worked as his pit crew, and they'd all traveled to races together from their home in Virginia.
Windel Scott was black and drove during the Jim Crow era.
He was the first African American to win a race at NASCAR's elite, major league level.
He died in 1990, and his son Frank and grandson Warwick sat down to remember him.
He started racing in 1952, and you know, it was like Picasso, like a great artist doing his work.
He was in that car. He was doing his work.
And as children, we didn't have that leisure time.
You know, we couldn't go to the playground.
He sat us by nature to garage.
Back in remember him getting injured, and he just take axle grease and put it in the cut and keep working.
But he wouldn't allow to race at certain speedways.
He had death threats not to come to Atlanta.
And they had to say, look, if I leave him a pound box, that's what I got to do.
But I'm going to race. I can remember him racing in Jacksonville, and he beat him all.
But they wouldn't drop a checkered flag.
And then when they did drop a checkered flag, they had my father in third place.
When the main reasons they gave was there was a white beauty queen, and they always kissed the driver.
Did he ever consider not racing anymore?
Never. That was one of my dad's sins.
When it's too tough, everybody else is just right for me.
I think I can remember one time when we were racing in Atlanta 500.
And he was sick. He needed operation.
And I said, daddy, we don't have to race today.
He whispered to me and said, lift my legs up and put me in the car.
So I took my arms and put my hands on his legs.
I kind of act like I was hugging him and helping him in the car.
He drove 500 miles a day.
I how did his racing career officially end?
Well, finances. You know, he couldn't get the support where other drivers that we were competing against had major sponsorship, providing them engineers as many cars as they needed.
He did everything that he did on his own pocket.
He always felt like some days don't get his big break.
But for 20 years, nobody mentioned one little scar.
At one point, it's like he never existed.
But he didn't let the drive him crazy.
I think that's what made him so great.
He chose to be a race car driver.
And he was going to race until he couldn't race no more.
When Del Scott was finally inducted into the NASCAR Hall of Fame, in 2015.
That's all for this episode of The Storycore Podcast.
It was produced by Max Young Rice and Judd Estee Kendall.
Amy Drupstaska is our executive producer.
Our technical director is Jared Floyd.
And our fact checker is Katie Scott.
The art for the season was created by Liz McCarty.
Special thanks for this episode to producers Nadia Raymond, Lina Anwar, Joshua Christensen, Kelly Maffet, and John White.
And facilitators Lily Percy and Grace Polly.
We're loving hearing the stories that listeners are leaving on our voicemail.
In this week, we want to know who in your life is your secret weapon.
Is it a family member or a friend?
Tell us why in a voicemail at 702 706 talk.
That's 702 706 T-A-L-K.
I'm Michael Graflow. And I'm Jasmine Morris.
Thanks for listening.
