Nico Hernandez: Wichita ‘pushed me to do better’

When Nico Hernandez was a young boy, before he ever put on boxing gloves or had Olympic dreams, his grandparents lined him up with the other grandchildren for what was supposed to be a concert of sorts.

Each grandchild was to sing a song when the microphone was passed to him or her. But when the mic reached young Nico, he froze.

“He didn’t say nothing,” Lewis Hernandez, Nico’s grandfather, said with a chuckle. “He’s never been big on conversations, but that’s what I like about him.”

Fast-forward to Tuesday morning, and Nico Hernandez, now 20 years old with an Olympic bronze medal dangling from his neck, was surrounded by cameras in the mezzanine inside Wichita Eisenhower National Airport.

Media members jockeyed for the best position to stick their microphones inches from his face as the hundred or so people gathered in the lobby chanted his name.

It was a surreal moment.

The fans came to celebrate Wichita’s first individual Olympic medalist since 1968. But to Hernandez’s family, Nico is still the same shy and soft-spoken kid they’ve always known.

“This is so weird,” said Sonia Kelley, Nico’s aunt. “You’re used to seeing this happen to somebody else, but not someone in your family. It’s totally different now.

“Now you get to actually feel it and see it, and it’s like ‘Wow.’ ”

Nico Hernandez never had to say much to make Wichita adore him. He didn’t have to thump his chest and announce himself.

Instead, he thumped opponents in the ring and let his success speak for him as his fan base grew.

“He might not say much, but he’s got heart,” said Emiliano Hernandez, Nico’s uncle. “And you can’t teach heart.”

Nico Hernandez had been on an airplane for much of the past 24 hours since leaving Rio. He admittedly was running on fumes when he arrived in Wichita, fueled solely on adrenaline and the rap music that was blaring into his headphones on the plane ride here.

But Hernandez graciously answered every question with dozens of camera lenses pointed at his face, stopping only when an official whisked him away to meet the crowd.

Moments before he appeared to the crowd, he was given a quick run-down of what would happen next: He would be introduced, would wave to the crowd and then would say a few words.

He was dressed in the official Olympic attire: a navy and red Nike sweatsuit, complete with a flat-billed red hat that kept his features somewhat hidden. But when he became visible on the balcony to the fans below, there was no mistaking: Hernandez was home.

When the microphone was passed to him, he didn’t freeze this time.

“You guys pushed me to do better,” Hernandez told the crowd. “I seen you guys on social media back when I was in Brazil. I knew I can’t come back home empty-handed. I got to make everybody proud of me.”

The crowd erupted. Hernandez thanked them one more time for their support, then posed with his medal and smiled at his friends and family below.

His speech lasted hardly 45 seconds, but to the people who know him best, they understood how big that was for him.

“It’s really hard to get up in front of that many people, especially when you’re quiet like that,” said his cousin, Jeremiah Kelley, who is three years older than Nico and grew up wrestling with him. “You have to really get to know him before Nico opens up to you, so it was kind of different seeing him talk like that in front of so many people.

“I was proud of him.”

Chello Hernandez, Nico’s mother, pulled her son in for an embrace that became emotional. Up next was his father, Lewis.

They have been together since Nico Hernandez first started boxing. They are trainer and boxer, father and son, and best friends rolled into one.

And now, here they were, with Lewis looking into the eyes of his son, as he does before every one of his fights, and telling him he loved him.

Neither could stop a tear from streaking down their cheeks when they hugged.

“I always start to tear up, but I make sure I look him in the eye every time I tell him I love him,” Lewis said afterward.

“We went through everything together, and he overcame a lot to get here. I’m just so proud of him.”

Nico Hernandez made his way down the steps to meet the crowd. Family, but also strangers, brought him gifts. People wanted to take his picture, shake his hand, touch the medal. Children bombarded him with autograph requests.

The madness didn’t end until he was escorted into a Mercedes-Benz SUV stretch limousine waiting for him outside.

Finally, he could breathe.

He never wanted to be in the spotlight, and he certainly never imagined he would ever inspire hope for others.

But he couldn’t help but smile. Here was Nico Hernandez, center of attention, embracing his new role as Wichita’s champion.

And you know what? He kind of likes it.

“It feels good,” Hernandez said hours later. “I felt like a superstar.”

This story was originally published August 23, 2016 at 4:53 PM.