DURAN’S DEBUT win against Carlos Mendoza gave little indication of the cyclone to come. In eight more fights that year, Duran stopped or knocked out seven opponents in the first round and the other in the second. First to fall were Manuel Jimenez and Juan Gondola in Colon, then Edward Morales in Panama City. Enrique Jacobs, Leroy Cargill and Cesar Uche de Leon were all one-round victims in the National Gymnasium in Panama. According to La Estrella de Panama, Duran sent De Leon to the emergency room at Santo Tomas Hospital. “He was a very good fighter and had not been beaten,” said Plomo. “Duran left his rival in such a poor condition that he had to be taken to hospital.” De Leon would never fight again. Juan Gondola made it as far as round two in Colon in November, then Carlos Howard was thumped in one in December to complete an explosive first year.
It was clear that Duran was ready for sterner opposition, and the boxers he faced in 1969 were a step up in class. His six fights that year brought six more victories, but none was inside the first three rounds. In January 1969, Alberto Brand was knocked down three times and stopped in four rounds. A six-round decision over Eduardo Frutos was followed by the stoppages of Jacinto Garcia (“Duran almost killed him,” said Plomo), the experienced Adolfo Osses, well-travelled journeyman Serafin Garcia and former Panamanian bantamweight champion Luis Patino. By the end of 1969, Duran was 15-0 and had acquired the nickname “El Dentista” because of his habit of pushing opponents’ teeth into their mouthpiece. He had also set up a juicy crosstown rivalry with Ernesto Marcel, the one fellow prospect who had the tools to compete with the eighteen-year-old terror.
It took eight rounds for Duran to dispose of Patino, a crafty veteran, on November 23, but the win showed the people that here was more than just a one-punch phenom and that he could last more than six rounds. “This was a good fighter, an experienced one, who had done a good number of good fights in Panama,” said Plomo. “So he was like the true exam for those who were building up their careers as professionals. They had to fight against Patino. Duran’s first fight to ten rounds was that one. They got up to the eighth round when Duran pah, pah, pah, knocked him down.”
One of the most famous knockouts Duran would ever score came after the bout. Like most Panamanian men, he had a sixth sense when it came to searching out a good time, women and liquor. If the party didn’t find Roberto, he would find it, and on this night a victory celebration was held in his mother’s hometown, Guarare, where family, friends and well-wishers joined in the revelry.
Duran retold the story years later. “I had defeated a boxer that was from Parita, and Guarare never had had good boxers until I beat that boxer from Parita, and so we had a big party. There was a ball, and they were dancing and we were drinking. A young woman started caressing me but I had very little money left. At that time I used to drink whiskey. So a man got up and said, ‘I will give you a hundred dollars and two whiskey bottles if you knock out a horse.’ I told him to forget about it. And then the woman started caressing me again and asked me what that bet was about. I told her that the man wanted to see if I could topple a horse. Then the man said he was ready to pay, so I accepted.
“I stood in front of the horse and stared at him. I asked where should I hit in order to make it fall and they told me that a punch behind the ear would make him fall. I was very drunk but I hit the horse with all my strength, the horse fell down and I broke this finger. This is the horse story. In exchange for two whiskey bottles and a hundred dollars.”
According to another version of the story, Duran and friends had finished a bottle of what one would later describe as Old Parr rum, but could not pay for it. The bar owner offered a compromise, with Duran’s uncle Socrates Garcia as witness, that if the boxer could knock down a horse with his fist, the cost of the booze would be covered and the friends would drink for free. “They didn’t have the money to pay the tab, so they told Roberto that if he knocked out the horse, the drinks were free for everyone,” said Duran’s friend, bar owner Ralph Bardayan. “He was told to hit him right below the ear. Then after he did it, all his friends and family drank for free.” Duran hit the horse below the ear and it immediately fell to the floor. His right hand was bleeding and his uncle insisted he go to hospital, though due to the booze he’d drunk, Duran felt no pain.
Plomo remembered yet another account. “One day they leave to take a vacation and they stopped in Guarare. By now Duran was pretty developed and was still an amateur. In Guarare, he got on a horse and they told the horse to start stepping, but Duran wanted it to run. The horse didn’t want to run because it was a walking horse. He came down from the horse and he was furious. He punched the horse and it fell down. Yes, it was true that he knocked out a horse.”
Local boxing analyst Daniel Alonso claims to be a bible of the sport in Panama. “Some myths are very difficult to prove. Duran would go back to Guarare in the province of Los Santos. In this area there are a lot of animals. Maybe, but there is no way to prove it.”
Life and legend were already becoming intertwined.
4
Streetfighting Man
“No black man can beat me.”
Roberto Duran
ROBERTO DURAN WAS not the only rising star of Panamanian boxing. As the sport entered its boom period in the tiny Central American state, others were hunting for glory with the same hunger and determination. The most notable was Ernest Marcel, known as “ñato” because of his pug nose, which had little cartilage left after years of boxing and was jammed onto his face as if composed of silly putty. Marcel was three years older than Duran and came from Colon. He spent much of his youth playing basketball in local leagues, but was always the smallest player on the court and eventually realized that there wasn’t much room in the game for five-foot-seven-inch guards in a sport of six-footers. He turned to boxing.
There was no better place to hone his skills than the hotbed of Colon. The province had a knack for hatching and matching the finest boxers in Panama. Inevitably Ismael Laguna, who lived down the street, was his yardstick. “I liked Laguna’s style and started learning his tactics when we sparred together,” he said. “He was my inspiration.” With help from trainer Felipe Vega and boxer the Manhattan Kid, Marcel would create his own style at the Arena de Colon. Although he eventually left to live and box in Panama City, he firmly maintained his roots back there.
In 1966, after more than seventy amateur contests, Marcel turned professional with a first-round knockout. After a string of wins and one draw, Marcel lost his first in a trilogy with Miguel Riasco – whose brother Rigoberto would later win the world junior featherweight title – in July 1967, and dropped another decision nine months later to Augustin Cedeno. While some boxers came up with excuses for defeats, Marcel knew he had a lot to learn. Learn he did, and he would lose only twice more in his entire career.
Marcel won his next fifteen fights, recording eleven knockouts. Along with his rise came new managers, Captain Vasquez and Colonel Ruben Paredes, who Marcel entrusted to get him better bouts. The military was heavily involved in the sport and Paredes, an important figure in the National Guard and would later briefly run the country, had been a prime mover in the expansion of boxing under the Omar Torrijos regime. Paredes developed a close relationship with Marcel. “Torrijos gave support to all the sports in Panama and helped lift up the boxing here,” said Marcel. “Panama was down before and now it was getting back up with his help. He helped make gyms in Maranon, and got the police to help also.”
After a revenge knockout win over Miguel Riasco, the young featherweight contender with the pug nose was about to embark on the most significant battle of his career. Duran was right around the corner. Who was this kid from Colon trying to take my turf, Duran thought? Many things traveled through Duran’s stubborn head, one being that he had something to prove to his people. By kicking Marcel’s ass, he could avenge the loss of his friend and stablemate Riasco and stake his own claim. Yet a fight between Duran and Ernesto Marcel was one that the Panamanian Boxing Commission
was hesitant to make. Why build one prospect and destroy another? The real concern was with Duran’s inexperience. Many believed he was too green to challenge Marcel, but Duran told Carlos Eleta he wanted the fight and would win it. “Marcel was ready to fight for a world championship at that time but the boxing commission in Panama would not approve that fight with me,” he added. “Eleta did everything he could to get the fight to go.”
It was the fight everyone wanted to see. From the rich businessman loosening his tie in a Panama City nightclub to the campesino on his farm in Chiriqui, from Chorrillo to David, the topic of conversation was Duran versus Marcel. The two young stars shared a country, a weight class and a tug-of-war on bragging rights. Both were young, insolent and egotistical in the macho way of the barrio. Both were also coming of age at the right time. Two years earlier a cocksure lieutenant colonel, Omar Torrijos Herrera, and his accomplices had staged a military coup and had overthrown President Arnulfo Arias. By 1970, Torrijos was entrenched himself as the Leader of the Panamanian Revolution, and would build a legacy that eclipsed all of Panama’s military heroes. In the quest for a new social democracy he backed the poor, taxed the rich and increased the power of the military. “In 1972, the military started to support sports in Panama,” said Marcel. “Panama was down and Torrijos was making everything better. He made gyms and began to get support from the police.” He would make boxing a national sport.
In the early spring of 1970, both Duran and Marcel made their way to Mexico City, part of a group of Panamanian boxers sent by Eleta and others to train there in some of the toughest gyms in the world. Always alive to new experiences, Duran was happy to escape the grimness of Chorrillo. His interest was also piqued by the thought that his father might be in Mexico City. Leaving the Beyreyes Hotel a few hours before a training session, he excitedly roamed the vast city, a $500 stipend from Eleta burning a hole in his pocket, and soon got lost.
“The Mexican arena where I fought was very close, and I asked this Mexican how do I get there and he says, ‘Just keep straight and you have to see it.’ What a coincidence, and the gym was open. I remembered that arena because I used to watch a lot of Mexican movies. I watched wrestlers like El Santo, Chavo, Blue, all these Mexican wrestlers, so I climb into the ring and make believe the ring is full and I felt like I was a wrestler.”
While there he also met a beautiful girl. “I fall in love with this Mexican woman … and I have to leave for Panama,” said Duran. “Eleta had this guy like a second hand named Issac Kresh. He asked me, ‘You want to fight right here in this Mexican ring?’ And I said, ‘Hell, yeah I do.’ He told me that the fight would be against a guy named Felipe Torres. He said it would be in about three weeks and I told him, ‘Let’s get it on.’ The real reason I wanted to stay was because of the beautiful Mexican girl I had met.”
Torres had just gone the distance with the highly ranked Kuniaki Shibata of Japan and had never been stopped, but Duran knew nothing about his style. It didn’t matter to him and rarely would throughout his career. His opponent could do the worrying. Duran fought with the same instinctive aggression as his Mexican counterparts, with little regard for grace or beauty, though his defence was becoming ever more subtle. Fighting in his opponent’s home, he couldn’t let it go to a decision.
“We go to the movies, and I tell the girl that I am going to stay for a few days because I have a fight,” said Duran. “And she said, ‘With whom?’ I told her Felipe Torres and she was astonished. She knew a lot about boxing, but she didn’t want to say anything to me. The day of the fight my girl is there, but I had charisma and had won over the Mexican people.”
It was 5 April 1970, and Duran had a girl by his side, the Mexican fans warming to him and a right hand from Hell. He also had a fierce desire to see his opponent destroyed. Winning on points was a frustration; seeing the other man prone on the canvas was the ultimate high. He was so obsessed with the knockout that he wouldn’t even allow a photo of Eleta’s nephew standing over him in the middle of the ring. The knockout was sacred, not a joke.
Both men went toe-to-toe. “It was a very bloody match and the guy gave me a punch and I ended up way over across the ring, but I never fell,” said Duran. “It was back and forth, both of us flying across the ring. The fight’s over and we were worried that we were going to get robbed. I had the face like a tamale. I was all swollen and so was he. When the unanimous decision came out for me, a big fat guy … picks me up and says, ‘You just beat the ninth-ranked featherweight in the world.’ Marcel never wanted to fight Torres, and I come in without any notice and beat the guy.”
Something else happened on the trip to further the rivalry between Duran and Ernesto Marcel. “I had a sparring session with Duran,” said Marcel. “I beat him bad for two rounds and after it he called Eleta and told him that he wanted a match with me. Duran was very upset about the beating I gave him in practice. He said, ‘No black man can beat me.’ Then he went back to Eleta in Panama and told him to get the fight.” According to Duran, the two never sparred.
Leaving his Mexican girl behind, Duran returned to Panama. As they shared the same gym for training, Duran and Marcel crossed paths on occasion, and neither gave any ground. Marcel was out to prove that he wasn’t scared of the man who frightened so many opponents, while Duran was just Duran, bold and confrontational. What the public saw, the scowl and stare, was no act. To beat his opponents, he had to hate them.
“When the fight with Marcel was realized, Marcel was training at Neco de La Guardia,” said Duran. “I used to train at the same time from twelve to two-thirty every day. After that I would go play basketball. When Marcel was training he would yell to me to get in condition because I’m going to knock you out. I told him that I was going to knock the shit out of him.
“Eleta had a company that sold vitamins and he gave me one called Mighty Tech. He told me to take two each day and I thought, if one vitamin is going to make me strong, if I take two then I’ll be strong as a bull. I started taking the vitamins in pairs. But they only got me sick. I got this type of wart on my butt, and I couldn’t run and I couldn’t jog. I told Eleta they had to stop the fight because I couldn’t train. I always remembered that Marcel used to tell me that he didn’t want to hear any excuses that I was sick or anything. I was fed up with that.”
Duran went to the equivalent of a back-alley doctor, his childhood pal Chaparro Pinzon, nicknamed Shorty. The biggest bout in Panama was riding on his rudimentary medical knowledge. “Three days before the fight, I still couldn’t walk,” said Duran. “Two days before the fight, I let Chaparro stay at my house because he was really poor and had no place to go. He would run with me in the mornings and go with me to the gym. He says, ‘Let’s pinch this wart and you’ll get cured.’ I was sitting on the bed screaming like a little girl because he takes out the roof of the wart on my butt and I’m drawing blood like crazy. About four hours later my fever goes down and the swelling between my legs starts to disappear. The next day I wake up like a bull and say that I’m going to knock the shit out of that bastard and he’s going to pay for everything he said.” Eleta was kept in the dark about Chaparro’s crude surgery. “Nobody knew about anything that happened at my house,” said Duran. “I was going to win despite my sickness.”
Duran and Marcel met on 16 May 1970, over ten rounds at 128 pounds, at the Nuevo Panama Stadium. The trash talking was over. Both fighters knew what a win would mean to their careers. Duran was undefeated at 25-0, while Marcel was 24-2-1. “Marcel was a helluva fighter,” said Eleta, who pulled the strings to make the fight happen. “But I knew that Duran could beat him.”
Under different circumstances, Duran and Marcel might have been friends, sharing ring notes at late-night haunts. With help from Old Parr they might have squared up over the pool table, thrown some playful jabs, then hugged each other in the way boxers do: one arm, strong grasp, with a hint of nostalgia. But Roberto Duran Samaniego and Ernesto Marcel grew up on different sides of the tracks. Colon and Pa
nama City were close, but if you were from Colon, then you weren’t from the capital and that’s what mattered most. “It was the best from Colon against the best from the city. That’s why the fight was so big in Panama,” said Marcel. Such sentiment was echoed around the country. Fans took sides, grabbed a beer and settled in.
Inside the arena a swooshing sound, unique to Panama, circled like a wave with every punch landed. It appeared to most that Duran had the edge through the first nine rounds. Certainly he was the aggressor, and stung his opponent more frequently. Even if his punches weren’t hurting Marcel that much, they arrived from all angles. But it was close, and Marcel believed he was ahead. Now in the final round, according to Marcel, he was still utilizing the same in-and-out tactics that had held up in the earlier rounds. Marcel agreed it was a close fight, although Duran’s pride wouldn’t ever allow him to admit such a thing. However, the last ten ticks of the clock would remain embedded in Marcel’s head, a lonely reminder that to agree to be a boxer is a contract based on vulnerability in a callous world that grants no freebies.
Then, with ten seconds left in the final round, referee Isaac Herrera waved his hands and decided not to let Marcel finish the fight. He said Marcel had barely thrown a punch in the round and he was stopping the bout because of his inactivity. Others claimed Duran had nailed Marcel, and forced him to run to survive the last round. It was ruled a tenth-round technical knockout to Duran. There was confusion. Neither fighter was hurt or close to being knocked out, but there was concern from the Eleta-appointed referee that Marcel wasn’t throwing punches.
“Everybody in Panama wanted to know why he stopped the fight,” Marcel recalled. “I asked the referee many times after, why he stopped the fight. And Isaac Herrera, one of the greatest referees in the world, tells me he really didn’t know why he stopped the fight. I was winning, so people wanted to know why they stopped the fight. Yes, the fight was narrow. After the fight [Herrera] said that I wasn’t fighting.”
Hands of Stone Page 7