"...From his bald head to his southpaw style to the swift sleep he brought Thomas (Hit Man) Hearns, Hagler is the embodiment of the fighter we don't want Leonard to fight.
"With his middleweight size and love for punishment, Hagler hurts you. He changes you. Permanently."
Hagler reacted like someone who had been duped - again! Worse, he felt betrayed. After he had helped Leonard with his restaurant opening, and had confided his innermost anxieties, now Leonard wanted to fight him. Hagler later said he had been "suckered" by Leonard. "Marvin felt like he was stabbed in the back," said Robbie, his brother.
Two weeks passed without a response. Then, on the "Tonight Show," Hagler replied. "Basically, he has an ego trip or something," Hagler said. "Little jealousy. He's missing the limelight a little. But the way I look at it, I'm just going to sit back and lick my chops. And just wait." He indicated he would make a decision about Leonard within a month.
Hagler, in fact, took 31/2 months to decide, during which he raised the possibilities of a rematch with Hearns as well as retirement. Leonard suspected he delayed and equivocated because he enjoyed, for once, his position of control. Yet, there were tangible reasons for his indecision, including those he had confided to Leonard.
Another was that Hagler's marriage was under stress from the same forces - celebrity and temptation - that had shredded Leonard's. During this period his cocaine dissipation allegedly increased.
"My understanding was that he used it straight through the Mugabi bout and was doing it when Leonard came after him," said John Dennis.
Womanizing seemed to be part of the cocaine/celebrity syndrome.
"Marvin had a mindset where he could do what he wanted in marriage," said Betty Whitney, Pat Petronelli's wife. "No question he loved Bertha when he married her and had children. That changed with his celebrity."
Bertha had a volatile temper and was not inclined to be patient with Hagler's infidelity. She was known to throw blunt objects, and to occasionally raise a lump on Hagler's shaved skull. Hagler's indecision, Arum said later, stemmed in part from his reluctance to see Bertha claim half of his huge purse should they divorce. Bertha, who had wanted Hagler to retire after the Hearns bout, now urged him to fight Leonard. "Why don't you go ahead and get that skinny little runt out of the way?" Bertha told him.
As he waited for Hagler's answer, Leonard trained at Palmer Park and occasionally at Dundee's gym in Miami, accompanied by Jacobs and Dunlap. On one of these trips Dunlap confronted Leonard about his comely escort. "You can't have these females - Marvin will kick your ass," Dunlap said. Angered, Leonard ordered Dunlap to ride in the front of a rented limo, and threatened to fire him, but was talked out of it by Trainer. "He's looking after you," Trainer told Leonard.
The rift healed and Leonard began to work out at Dunlap's 10-acre rural spread at Accokeek, Md. Routinely, he showed up in the morning, ran four or five miles, and chopped a tree - a shoulder-strengthening exercise - provided by Dunlap. By noon he was home for rest and late in the afternoon he was at the gym.
In mid-August Hagler was hunkered at his mountain retreat in Bartlett, N.H., without a telephone. Desperate for a decision, Arum, Pat Petronelli, and Betty Whitney set out from Boston, in the middle of the night, to find him. While Arum and Whitney waited at a motel, Petronelli drove up a mountain road, at dawn, to Hagler's secluded house. Hagler was in no mood to see him.
"Marv didn't want it," Petronelli recalled. "He said, 'I'm done. I want to play.' He just didn't want to fight."
Petronelli marshaled his powers of persuasion. He talked to Hagler about his legacy, getting even with Leonard, providing for his family, the unprecedented vastness of the purse, and the chance to make history. "You'll always wonder what would have happened," Petronelli said.
Finally, Hagler let out a deep breath and nodded. "If I fight this one promise me it's all over," Hagler said. "No more."
Word of Hagler's decision reached Leonard at Cosell's plush home on Long Island, at the Hamptons, where he was a guest. When the call came from Trainer, Leonard and Dunlap whooped it up. Cosell was aghast. "No, you're not going to do that," he said.
"Oh yes," Leonard said.
1986: 12 Rounds
The bout was negotiated during a two-month period, mostly over the telephone, with Hagler in New Hampshire, his attorney Morris Goldings in Boston, the Petronellis in Brockton, and Leonard and Trainer in Maryland. But in his Garbo-like seclusion, Hagler refused to put in a telephone. This lent the process a comical aspect.
When he needed to be consulted, Pat Petronelli called Hagler's neighbor, who relayed the question and called back with an answer.
"One day this happened two or three times," recalled Goldings. "Little did we know he had to run up a mountain to do it - nobody knew this guy wasn't next door. Finally, the poor guy said, 'I hope this is the last question - I'm getting exhausted.'"
Leonard had four objectives. He wanted a 12-round distance rather than the "championship" 15-round distance. He wanted a ring no less than 20 feet square - some were 18 feet square - and he wanted 10-ounce attached-thumb gloves rather than 8-ounce. All three conditions mitigated Hagler's presumed advantages of conditioning, strength, and punching power. Lastly, he wanted the fight in Las Vegas, which was odd, given that he had been furious at the scores for his 1981 bout with Hearns.
Most important was the 12-round distance. Though Leonard had needed 15 rounds for two of his major wins - against Benitez and Hearns - he now favored 12. The unspoken reason was the uncertain effect of his three-year cocaine and alcohol binge. Only Leonard knew how much he had indulged, and what his body could sustain.
Two cocaine-related deaths of athletes had made headlines over the summer. University of Maryland All-American Len Bias, chosen No. 2 in the NBA draft by the Boston Celtics, succumbed to cocaine intoxication. Cleveland Browns safety Don Rogers died of a cocaine-induced heart attack. Bias had spent his younger years playing basketball where Leonard learned to box, at the Palmer Park Community Center. Leonard could not but have been affected by Bias' death and wondered about his own physical erosion.
As the talks progressed Leonard came to a realistic assessment of his limits. Urged by Trainer, Leonard had undertaken a series of mock 10-round bouts, complete with scoring judges and referee, against imported sparring partners who, like Hagler, fought left-handed and right-handed. One of the mock opponents, Dwayne Cooper, was a Hagler look-alike. Another, Robert "Boo Boo" Sawyer, had been a Hagler sparring partner. Still another, Quincy Taylor, became a middleweight champion in 1994. In the mock bouts Leonard wore large gloves but no headgear, while his opponents wore headgear and small gloves.
"Ray had four fights so he could see what it was like to fight again," recalled J.D. Brown, the assistant whose job was to bring in sparring partners.
Leonard stopped two of the mock opponents, but two others lasted the 10-round distance. He now had an accurate gauge of his endurance, and knew that a 12-round distance against Hagler was smart.
Initially, Hagler opposed Leonard on all three demands, and most stubbornly on the 12-round distance. He remembered that he needed the 14th and 15th rounds to overtake Duran in 1983.
But Hagler's priorities were financial. Trainer understood this from the outset when Petronelli insisted that Arum handle the promotion, rather than bid it out.
"I said, 'We're in a perfect situation - we're both free agents - let's bid it out and get the best deal we can get,'" Trainer recalled. "But Pat was doing business with Arum. It was disappointing."
Arum offered a large up-front guarantee, and less risk, but his cut of revenues ultimately came out of the fighters' shares.
Leonard and Trainer decided to bargain with cash. Over the course of several weeks they lowered their price. Each step down, they asked for a concession. Eventually, they offered to accept a fixed guarantee and leave Hagler most of the upside from closed-circuit theater and pay-per-view TV revenues. Leonard would get a guarantee of $11 million, plus the bonus
revenues from the Washington and Baltimore areas. Hagler would get a guarantee of $12 million, plus the bonus revenues from everywhere else, which were projected at $6 to $7 million. So, from an initial position of near parity, Hagler rose to more than 60 percent, while Leonard dropped to less than 40 percent.
With this "victory" at the table, Hagler agreed to Las Vegas, the larger ring, and larger gloves. But the 12-round distance was the prize, still undecided. This issue, the last sticking point, was settled in mid-October at Goldings' elegant offices on Beacon Hill, in a historic brick building by early-19th century architect Charles Bulfinch. Trainer was there, along with the Petronellis and Goldings.
Trainer made an appeal to Hagler's conscience. At the time the 15-round distance was recognized by the World Boxing Association, but not by the World Boxing Council. Both groups were tainted by corruption, but the WBA had the added taint of doing business with South African boxing interests. At the time, South Africa brutally oppressed its non-white majority through a set of laws known as apartheid. Much of the world had carried out a sports boycott of South Africa since the early 1970s. Arum, who promoted shows in South Africa, was dubbed the "Apostle of Apartheid," although Arum contended that by doing business he encouraged reform.
"Leonard used this brilliant tactical maneuver," Goldings recalled. "You don't want to go with the organization that supports South Africa. He played that card."
Trainer told Pat Petronelli the 12-round issue was "a deal breaker" and that Leonard was prepared to pull out. This was unlikely. Indeed, in an HBO interview after the bout, Leonard said, "He could have said 15 rounds - what could I have done? I couldn't have said anything. He was the champion. I don't think he realized that."
Leonard, who had shunned politics as a matter of business, now positioned Hagler with a political argument. The irony was thick, though lost on Petronelli. He phoned Hagler in New Hampshire and laid out the ramifications. They discussed the possibility Leonard's demand was a bluff.
Hagler decided not to find out. He did not want to call a bluff if it meant being on the side of a pro-South African organization. He might win the hand, but lose his self-respect and reputation.
"Marvin was no dummy," Goldings recalled. "He understood that issue."
Hagler might have insisted on 15 rounds, and absorbed the political heat, if he had felt it absolutely necessary. Duran had been a close call, but four opponents had fallen since Duran. It had been 101/2 years since he lost to Willie Monroe - his last defeat. Hagler could scarcely remember losing. Hubris had become the spoiled offspring of his success.
Trainer goaded Hagler's pride.
"You're telling me it's going to take 15 rounds to beat the welterweight," Trainer said. "You've got to be kidding me. Nobody in the world thinks the fight is going to go 12 rounds."
"Marv thought it wouldn't make a difference," recalled Pat Petronelli. "He didn't think Ray could hurt him, and he didn't think he could dance for 12 rounds. Marv thought he would knock him out. The rounds, gloves, and the ring didn't matter."
A third and unspoken reason could have accounted for Hagler's capitulation. He may have decided, as Leonard may have, that fast living had sapped his endurance.
In accepting the 12-round distance Hagler avoided one political pitfall, but stepped into another. The Mexico City-based WBC was closely aligned with promoter Don King. For years Hagler had refused to deal with King, while Leonard had allowed him to co-promote the first Duran bout. If Leonard beat Hagler, King could bid on a rematch. Or, if Leonard won and retired, King could gain control of the middleweight division. If Hagler won, Arum would remain in control.
Hagler's advisors should have been wary of the WBC. Later, when they insisted on a Mexican as one of three scoring judges, they should have been wary.
"Marvin was always battling the system - he had no real political smarts," Emanuel Steward recalled. "He was just a country bumpkin, so to speak, a country boy."
1986: Killing Him Softly
The curtain went up - literally - at New York City's gilded Waldorf Astoria Hotel on November 3, 1986.
It was made of gold tufted satin, and it ascended dramatically above the stage of the Grand Ballroom. Revealed, to the amazed silence of hundreds of media - and the chuckles of a few - were Leonard and Hagler, upon elevated pedestals, side by side. The two warriors stared into the distance as cameras blazed away.
Hagler wore a practical New England suit of dark cloth, with a red tie and gold stickpin. Leonard wore a tapered Italian jacket of white leather - custom made for $1,200 - with a peach vest and taupe tie. No question which was the tortoise and which the hare.
(c) 1987 Globe Newspaper Company
Hagler displayed one of his prized belts on the promotional tour more than four months before the bout.
They posed together for the first time since their contracts had been signed. They did not look at each other or exchange a word, not even a thank-you for the guaranteed $23 million pot they would share. Eventually they sat down at a head table, as the promoter, Arum, took the dais.
"I'm reminded of an old Hebrew prayer," Arum, a Talmudic scholar in his youth, said. "Bless our God who allowed us to see this day."
Leonard spoke first, and instantly waged psychological warfare.
"Before we put on our fight faces," Leonard said, "I want to take the chance to thank Marvelous Marvin Hagler for this opportunity."
Leonard walked a few steps to where Hagler sat, and extended his hand. Hagler ignored it and stared straight ahead. After a few awkward seconds Leonard returned to the dais.
"Apparently he already has his fight face on," Leonard said.
(c) 1987 Globe Newspaper Company
Hagler started the publicity tour in Boston in November 1986, but quit after appearing with Leonard in several cities.
This was the first volley in Leonard's "kill Hagler with kindness" campaign. The idea was to keep Hagler pacified, on the theory that he fought best when angry. Leonard's intention was to praise Hagler, show him respect, and anesthetize his inner beast.
"I never said anything to upset him, because I didn't want to piss him off to make him more motivated to train harder," Leonard recalled. "I was very nice to him...that's reverse psychology."
Hagler spoke next. His remarks were a transparent effort to conjure enthusiasm. He said he had long anticipated the bout, and had saved "my body, my mind just for this occasion." But his true frame of mind was best revealed by a hint he dropped.
"If this is your last fight, you want to make sure it's a good one," Hagler said. "I'm coming out smoking, physically and mentally."
(c) Angie Carlino
Comedian Bob Hope, center, thanks Hagler, left, and Leonard, right, for the memory, during the promotional tour, December 1986.
Soon both fighters embarked on a 12-city promotional tour. One of the early press events was in Boston. Leonard flew in, while Hagler drove up from his home in Hanover, Mass., and arrived 45 minutes late. When he walked in Leonard buttonholed him.
"Marvin, this is a business. You can't be late."
"Yeah, yeah, I got kids," Hagler said.
"When you go to work, you go to work," Leonard said.
Hagler nodded and offered no rebuttal. Now Leonard had asserted himself as the more professional.
They promoted the bout in Bethesda, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and San Francisco. At each stop Leonard praised and complimented Hagler. In Las Vegas, Leonard said, "It's an honor to get in the same ring as the marvelous one." Then he introduced his sparring partner, the Hagler look-alike, Dwayne Cooper, whose shaved head evoked a mirthful reaction from the media. Hagler joined in the merriment, and insisted he was "better looking" than Cooper. The more jocular Hagler was, the better Leonard liked it.
(c) Angie Carlino
Marvelous Marvin Hagler, left, promoter Bob Arum, center, and Sugar Ray Leonard, right, promote their bout at Caesars Palace, December 1986.
At one event Leonard and Hagler posed together fo
r a photo. Leonard matter-of-factly took Hagler's fist and pulled it to his chin. Docile, Hagler stood with his arm extended.
"Normally, if a guy would take your fists and put it up to his chin, you'd snatch it back," recalled Pepe Correa, one of Leonard's trainers. "Hagler never did. And that gave Ray time to check out what his reach was."
After the San Francisco event, Hagler told Arum, "I can't take this anymore." He knew the tour had dulled what little edge he had. Hagler cancelled out of press events in Chicago, Detroit, Houston, Dallas, San Antonio, Atlanta, and Miami.
"Why couldn't he tell me he was going to knock my head off?" Hagler said. "All he kept saying was that he was honored to fight me. I didn't need to hear that."
Chapter 13
1987: Palm Springs and Hilton Head
Spring is the most beautiful season on the desert. Tourists came to the Coachella Valley for the soft breezes, flowering plants, blue skies and golf. At the foot of the San Jacinto Mountains, in Palm Springs, lay the Canyon Hotel, where Marvelous Marvin Hagler trained. His workouts became another spring attraction.
After his afternoon session in the tent behind the hotel, Hagler signed autographs and posed for photos. Now in camp for seven weeks, this was how he thanked the 150 to 175 fans that paid $5 to watch him train.
This particular day the autograph line included a middle-aged African American man with dyed gray hair, horned-rim eyeglasses, and a hat pulled down over his forehead. When the man reached the front of his line Hagler assented to his request for a photo without a second thought. The man handed his camera to Lee Samuels, Arum's assistant, and put his arm around Hagler as Samuels snapped the photo.
Sorcery at Caesars: Sugar Ray's Marvelous Fight Page 11