“He win, I lose, he complaining,” he quipped.
18
Tommy Gun
“A lot of people came to me and said to watch him because he was a legend, but I already knew this, and he could do anything he truly wanted to do in that ring. But I felt like my skills and my abilities were greater. More than me watching him, he had to watch me.”
Thomas Hearns on Duran
IT WAS, IN hindsight, a mistake. To fight the world’s best middleweight, take a seven-month layoff, then step straight into a war with the world’s best light-middleweight without so much as a tune-up bordered on madness. But money has a way of barging aside all other considerations in boxing. In the latest in a series of massive bouts, Duran agreed to fight Thomas “Hit Man” Hearns on June 15, 1984, in the arena outside a Caesar’s Palace parking lot in Las Vegas. Hearns’s WBC junior middleweight title belt, which he had won from Wilfred Benitez in December 1982, would be on the line.
Duran should have defended his own 154-pound WBA title against number one contender Mike “Body Snatcher” McCallum, but abdicated his belt for the money bout with Hearns rather than face the mandatory challenger. The skilled McCallum showed up at the Duran-Hearns press conference to protest the decision to push him aside but no one was listening. “Originally Duran was going to fight a rematch with Hagler because he fought him so tough the first time around,” said Emanuel Steward, who managed both McCallum and Hearns. “The WBA told me that Duran was not going to fight McCallum. It was either Duran fight Mike for $500,000 or Hagler for $5 million. Due to Rule Nineteen or something like that, something about the betterment of boxing, it would be Hagler and Duran again. I told Mike that we couldn’t stop the WBA. I said, ‘I tell you what, Mike. Duran can fight Tommy and you could fight the winner for the title.’”
Although McCallum agreed to Steward’s proposition and was put on the undercard of the Hearns-Duran fight, he was angry. “Mike was supposed to fight on the undercard for $250,000, which was the most he’d made to that point,” said Steward. “I wasn’t going to take a penny of that, I told him. Then Mike said that he wasn’t going through with the fight because he was supposed to fight Duran instead of Tommy. So he fell off the card.”
Duran had lapsed back into his old routine and was more interested in making music than training. Some reports had him coming down from as much as 196 pounds. “He was not in the best shape,” said Luis Spada. “The time before that fight, he was involved in his music orchestra. When we signed the contract in the Dominican Republic to fight Hearns, he went to play in the orchestra. Roberto wanted me to stay with him and the orchestra. I said, ‘No, I’m not here for the music. I am going back to Panama.’ After that he was taking too much time with the orchestra. When he needed to train, there was no time left for training.” Duran struggled to focus on the bout at hand. His ultimate aim was a return bout with Leonard but it didn’t pay to underrate the Hit Man.
Tommy Hearns was an elongated stalker of frightening power. His hooks landed like whiplashes and his straight right was one of the hardest in boxing. Hearns also felt Duran was made for him: too small, too old, no longer dangerous. From the fashion in which Duran picked off punches, probed with his left to land the right, pulled his head back, searched for the left hook to the body and even to his defensive tactics, Hearns knew how to respond. Steward taught Hearns to shoot jabs to Duran’s chest to bring down his guard and the pair analyzed every attribute about the man. While Duran had grown into his role as more erudite than powerful in the ring, Hearns had to prove to himself that the right hand he injured against Wilfred Benitez was back to form. During training sessions, Hearns sparred with Olympic hopeful Mark Breland, Milton McCrory and Duane Thomas. Breland was so quick that Duran would appear in slow motion by comparison. There were days in training that Hearns wouldn’t even win a round and it became an inside joke at camp.
“Duran wasn’t a spent fighter at that time,” said Steward. “He was coming off a great fight with Marvin. I always liked to work with speed and it was Tommy’s speed that was too much for Roberto. When we prepared for Duran we didn’t have any short guys for Tommy to work with. But we worked on many little tricks for Duran. It was all about speed and Tommy would say, ‘Duran won’t be as quick as these guys I’m training with.’”
In contrast, little went right for the Duran camp. “When we left Panama we went to Nassau in the Bahamas,” said Plomo. “He had been drinking and was throwing up, which lowers his defenses. We spent two months there but he was not able to train there even once. He was sick all the time. After two months there that Duran had not been able to train even one full day, he was not in good condition to fight against Tommy Hearns. If Duran ran, then he would not be able to do anything else, and if he trained, then he could not run. When we arrived in Las Vegas, Duran had still six pounds to lose. He had to run in the morning and then go to a sauna before getting on the scale. After this Duran thanked God because he had arrived to the required weight. He said he did not know what would happen during the fight but he could not cancel it, for he would have to face a claim in such a case and that would be too expensive.” Duran admitted to this author that he trained only two weeks in the Bahamas and one in Hollywood for the bout.
Two days before the bout, Duran told a New York Times reporter, “More than anything else, I wanted a rematch with Leonard. He was the best I ever fought, and I wanted to show him that I could beat him when I was at my best.” It suggested his mind was not on the job in hand, even though his opponent was every bit as formidable as Leonard. Hearns’s goal, meanwhile, was an assault on Marvin Hagler’s middleweight crown.
Before the bout, a story made the rounds that Hearns burned Duran mentally without trying. If true, it marked the first time that Duran was intimidated before a bout. Duran was a past master at pre-fight intimidation. With some it worked, with others it didn’t. Thus, Duran expressed his fears and insecurities through intimidation. When it didn’t work, he lost an edge. For years he had been typecast as a maniacal fighter with little control. Now, Hearns had switched the roles. At one point before the bout, Hearns pulled Duran’s hat down over his eyes, a sure-fire mistake in any setting.
“That happened, sure,” said Hearns’s trainer Emanuel Steward. “Roberto just ran away when Tommy pulled his hat down. I don’t know what it was, but Tommy always intimidated Roberto. Even when Tommy was like twenty years old and he was at a fight with Roberto in Las Vegas. I’ll never forget because Roberto was talking to someone and Tommy went up and tapped him on the shoulder. Roberto quickly backed away when he saw Tommy. It was like he saw a ghost or an evil spirit. That was Duran’s role; he was the intimidator. But Tommy always possessed something, like a spiritual thing over Roberto. Roberto was always passive around him whether it was at the press conference or on the street. It was very unlike Roberto.”
To Hearns, whose memory is sketchy, the hat incident seemed harmless. “It could have been true,” said Hearns. “Me and Roberto were playing around and I pulled his hat down. I thought it was just build-up for the fight. I didn’t look at it like it could have been something to make a man change his heart. Just playing around.” Hearns would later add, “It was always a must for me to take control before a fight. You never let a man dictate what that you’re supposed to be doing. I must be in charge and if I’m not then there’s something wrong.”
Juan Carlos Tapia concurred, “I would go running with him every morning. He was not in shape. He was intimidated by Hearns and I could tell he was not ready for that fight.” Carlos Eleta recalled, “I saw him training by the TV before the Hearns fight. I said, ‘My God he is going to fight him like that. He cannot even fight with me.’ He didn’t train at all.”
Others leapt to Duran’s defense. “That fight should have never been made,” said ex-manager Luis DeCubas. “Duran took it for the money, and he didn’t train like he should have. Duran told me personally that making weight for that fight was one of the hardest experiences of his
life, but intimidated, never! That guy don’t get intimidated by nobody.”
Whether Duran had fallen under Hearns’s spell or not, all indications showed that he had begun to mellow. Plomo Quinones recalled other problems. “There was an American man who used to say he was a friend of ours but he was actually Hearns’s spy. We only found this out after the fight, when we realized he was happy with the results and celebrating with the people surrounding Hearns. Duran is such a good person that he thought this was a real friend.”
Both men suffered to an extent from the Leonard Syndrome. Hearns had their 1981 fight to win, but got tagged and stopped in round fourteen. “I hurt myself against Leonard three years ago,” said Hearns. “I’ve been proving myself ever since, but the Leonard fight is in the past. It should be kept there. I resent it when people keep putting it up to me.”
The promoters of the fight were Shelteron, headed by Shelly Saltman, and Gold Circle, run by Bill Kozerski and Walter Alvarez, who would deal with a worrying financial ebb and flow before the fighters met in the ring. Days before the event, the boxers still weren’t sure if or when it would happen. “Even up to the day before, it was a question of financing, the promotions, the whole thing was built out of a house of cards,” said Bert Sugar, who broadcast the bout. Emanuel Steward made sure a letter of credit was in the bank weeks before the scheduled date or he was taking his fighter back to Detroit. “I was packed and ready to go home,” he said. “Tommy would never fight unless we had a letter of credit a week and sometimes two before the fight. But the promoters hadn’t given us the money. So Henry Wald, the President of Caesar’s, came to me and promised me that Caesar’s would stand by a guarantee. Wald stopped me from packing and I went on with the fight. I had even reduced Tommy’s, whose WBC title was the only one on the line, purse so that Duran was making more money than he was.”
Duran might have benefited from a postponement. He was reportedly making $1.6 million to Hearns’ $1.8, significantly more than if he had fought McCallum, but the move was tantamount to boxing suicide. People criticized Hearns’s chin but nobody, legend or not, was going to best him in a shootout – not at 154 pounds. “Hearns could intimidate but he could also hit,” said Bert Sugar.
They called it “Malice in the Palace” and 14,824 people waited for the entrants. Duran came in at 154 pounds, bang on the limit, with Hearns nearly a pound lighter yet looking twice as big. While Duran had five losses in eighty-two bouts, Hearns’s only blemish in thirty-nine bouts was the Leonard loss. More important than the records, Duran was giving up five inches in height and eleven in reach. “No one has ever really tried to hurt Duran,” said Steward before the bout, “but Tommy will.”
The theme to Rocky II blared from the speakers as Duran, who had officially relinquished his WBA light-middleweight title shortly before, followed a cadre of handlers into the ring. Spada, in a tight-fitting blue jumpsuit with DURAN stitched on the back, nudged the ropes so that Duran could climb through. He looked sharp, replete in a jet-black robe and a thick beard that perfectly fit his face. Hearns, in a red robe with gold trim, seemed almost to gleam as he moved slowly behind a mass of soldiers resembling Roman gladiators. Twisting his arms and then shaking them out to the end of his fists, he breathed intensity. Reaching the ring, he disrobed to show a wiry but sculpted body. Hearns had been sparring in the Kronk Gym with some of the quickest and most talented boxers in the world. He bounced around the ring and shot blur-fast jabs. The Hit Man had never looked in better shape.
In contrast, a strangely subdued Duran sat on his stool before the introductions. The Panamanian didn’t stick his fist in Hearns’ face like he had done to DeJesus seconds before their battles, nor did he swagger past, throwing a glare or a punch in the direction of the opposing corner. Instead he sat in his corner with shallow eyes. “I wasn’t with Duran in that fight,” said former manager Luis DeCubas, “but I remember hearing about how he used to go into the shower after workouts and just lay down on the shower floor for hours because he was so weak. When he got into the ring, he was just sitting there.”
Such a small detail might have been missed in an ordinary fighter, but it was easy to look into Duran’s eyes and notice emptiness. Even if Duran wasn’t scared of Hearns, the popular opinion was that he had not prepared sufficiently to be in that ring that evening. “There were only a few fighters in the history of boxing who could not be intimidated at all. And Duran was one of them,” said Jose Torres. “If it’s true that he didn’t train properly at times, then of course he hurt himself. He was such a mental fighter that he had to be aware if he was in condition or not. Even if you are not in condition but you are aware that you didn’t train properly, it affects you. If he didn’t train, then he knew he didn’t train and that’s the thing about smart fighters. They use their heads for everything, even unconsciously.”
Under a darkening night sky in the temporary outdoor arena, Duran tentatively circled to his left, seeking an opening. To land a shot, he had first to reach Hearns, but the American’s jaw looked like he’d need a ladder to hit it. A jab bounced harmlessly off Hearns’s washboard stomach. The Hit Man looked supremely confident, flicking out his left to set up the missile in his right glove. Duran appeared concerned about getting hit. Pushed against the ropes with a strong right hand, he flailed back.
In the middle of a combination that sent him falling through the ropes, it appeared that Duran was bravely calling for more punishment. A clipping Hearns uppercut opened a cut over his left eye. It was the least of his concerns. There was confusion, which brought a temporary halt to the action, and Duran put his hands up matador style and turned his head as if to ask Padilla for an explanation. A split second later, another uppercut sent him reeling around the ring. “Hearns moved in, purposeful and unhurried, feinted with a left jab to the body and quick as a flash brought over a right to the chin that put Duran down heavily,” reported Boxing News. “Duran propped himself up on his left elbow, got to his knees and made it to his feet at the count of five. But he looked unsteady.” Despite this, he waved Hearns in with his glove, ready to take what was coming, in desperate trouble but the King of Macho once more.
Hearns blitzed him against the ropes with both hands, then dropped him again with a short left hook with a few seconds left in the round. Padilla gave him a standing eight-count and Duran, visibly shaken, headed toward the wrong corner between rounds, something he often did. As if chasing a drunken buddy walking into traffic, Plomo sprinted over to redirect him, a dripping sponge in his hand ready to rinse Duran’s blood-smeared face.
At the start of the second Duran appeared to have recovered and the two fighters touched gloves respectfully before resuming. Hearns, sharp and focused, quickly exerted pressure. Duran did land some punches, but not hard enough to even dent the Detroit slugger. Hearns ripped away, tagging Duran flush on the chin with terrible rights. The challenger was in deep trouble and fought back on instinct in a final show of defiance. Then came the end. “Hearns missed with a big right but Duran was backing up again and in disarray,” said Boxing News. “Hearns shot out a quick double jab to the body, more feints than serious punches, and then struck with a pulverizing right hand to the chin that ended the fight.”
The punch landed with such force that Duran was out before he hit the ground, face-first. Referee Padilla stepped in and declared a technical knockout at 1:07 of the second round. There was no need to count. “After that last knockdown it was like he was dead, gone,” said Emanuel Steward. “It wasn’t just a right hand he hit him with but what we call a ‘running’ right hand. He was sliding in fast when he hit him with it. Tommy was looking at his chest and Duran never saw the punch.”
In the middle of the ring, Hearns – who was aware that a Hagler fight was all but guaranteed – said he knew that Duran was hurt in the first round. “It’s the Hit Man coming back again,” said Hearns, who fulfilled a second round prediction he made in the papers before the fight. Then he hugged Duran and picked him up like he wa
s a little kid.
As Plomo and Spada rushed Duran out of the ring as if fleeing a bad dream, a crimson stain marked the spot where Duran had landed. If the exit in New Orleans left a bad taste, the head-first collapse that Duran took was more uncomfortable to watch on many levels. In New Orleans there was confusion and it took time for people to understand what had occurred. At first nobody, including Leonard, had an idea that Duran had surrendered. And although the boxing community might never come to terms with Duran’s shocking exit, it wasn’t painful to watch. Hearns left him flat out, his face on the canvas in a fusion of blood, slobber and sweat. “The final curtain falls on a legend,” lamented Boxing News.
No one had ever knocked out Duran, a man whose solid chin was even harder than his fists. Anyone with an interest in him – friend, opponent, family member, associate – would have difficulty dealing with it. “Thomas Hearns really beat him up. It was a sad day for Panamanian boxing,” said Ismael Laguna. “Hearns had all the advantages against Duran, more reach, he could hit hard and was taller. The way he caught Duran with that one-two punch and the way Duran fell without even putting his hands on the floor, the way he hit the floor head-first, I would not forget that moment. Duran would trust his punching power too much, especially his right hand. My wife was a very big fan of Roberto and I had to take her to the hospital after the fight. She almost fainted. She was so mad about what happened that she thought Duran was dead.”
Money, a lot of it, had softened his edge, his belly. Even the anger that so defined his ring presence seemed to have disappeared, and with it his threat. “I do know that he didn’t train properly,” said Bert Sugar. “Yes he got the shit kicked out of him brutally with overhand rights right on the jaw but I got the impression from not training and not knowing it was going to happen, he just wasn’t prepared. These were guys who could intimidate and not back it up. Hearns could hit. When Duran went down in the second round, nose bounced on the canvas, it was like a plane landing.”
Hands of Stone Page 32
