As a result, Leonard trained at the larger but less atmospheric Golden Gloves Gym. His first session was open, and about 100 media watched him spar with Quincy Taylor. Flat-footed and stationary, and markedly thicker through the chest, biceps and thighs, Leonard gave the impression that he might confront Hagler toe-to-toe. Indeed, Leonard toyed with a surprise tactic, to move in on Hagler and cut him up. It lasted until Taylor landed a body blow that made Leonard wince and gasp for air. Somehow, media observers failed to gauge the punch, but Leonard's corner was mortified.
"Ray was knocked out on his feet," J.D. Brown recalled.
Later, the van ride back resembled "a morgue," but, if nothing else, the punch cleared Leonard's head and disabused him of the notion that he could fight Hagler at close range. In succeeding sessions closed to media, Leonard reverted to his strategy of movement and finesse.
The eye issue seemed to rankle him. On his first day in Vegas he was required to undergo another eye exam to satisfy the Nevada commission and governor. The painful procedure, in which a small instrument was inserted behind the orbital rim, put Leonard in a bad mood, even as his left eye passed muster.
Media questions about the eye were inevitable, and further appeared to darken his mood. Whereas initially Leonard calculated that the eye issue might work to his advantage and inhibit Hagler, now he was worried that a premature stoppage by the referee or ring physician could result from heightened concern.
Leonard's mood was on display in his last session with the media three days before the bout. Would Leonard predict how long the fight would go? Was he concerned few fighters had managed successful comebacks after long layoffs? Had he changed as a fighter over the years? To each he responded with a curt "No." A reporter who asked about Leonard's refusal to fight a tune-up bout was referred to sarcastically as "coach." Asked who had been his toughest opponent, Leonard said, "Bruce Finch."
Leonard seemed sour and hostile. But since Leonard's emotions often were calculated, nobody was quite sure, not even his inner circle.
"Don't ever try to read him," said Trainer, the attorney. "It's taken me 10 years to get in his head and I know him only a little bit. Everything he does is for a purpose.
"You'll say, 'Gee Ray, yesterday you're happy and today you're sour.' But that doesn't necessarily mean yesterday he was happy and today he's sour. The guy is hard. Everything is choreographed with Ray."
At the final media session, Leonard dedicated the fight to a New York camp for children with cancer. The idea was to present himself as too humane for Hagler to harm.
"It was all a psych," Trainer said later.
Chapter 15
1987: April 6
Lou D'Amico had a dream. The slight and bespectacled manager of Caesars Sports Book dreamt he was in the audience at the parking lot stadium. Leonard and Hagler awaited the judges' decision.
"I can see Leonard in the ring and Hagler in the ring," D'Amico recalled. "Then I can see Leonard with his hands up and the crowd going berserk."
D'Amico, then 40, awakened from his dream on the morning of the fight. He scurried into the Sports Book offices, summoned his four supervisors, and related his dream.
"I want to have Leonard going for us in this fight," D'Amico told them.
The supervisors were speechless.
"They looked at me like I had two heads," D'Amico recalled.
Normally, a sports book puts up odds that generate equal betting on both sides, and collects a modest handling commission. D'Amico proposed shifting the odds to generate more bets on Hagler. If Hagler lost, the Sports Book would pay out less than half of its handle, but if he won it would pay out more than half. In essence, D'Amico wanted the Sports Book to bet on Leonard.
"How is Leonard going to win?" his supervisors asked.
"I don't know," D'Amico said. "I just think he will."
That was how the Caesars Sports Book came to drop its odds on a Leonard victory, from 3-1 to 21/2-1.
The rest of Las Vegas awakened to a comfortable spring day, with partly cloudy skies and temperatures headed up to 73.
At 8 a.m. the Nevada physicians Drs. Donald Romeo and Flip Homansky examined Hagler and Leonard and pronounced them fit. They proceeded to the 9 a.m. weigh-in at the pavilion, attended by 1000 raucous spectators. Leonard weighed in first, at 158 pounds, which raised eyebrows among the cognoscenti, because he had never carried that much weight, and it was speculated he had sacrificed speed and movement for strength. Hagler came in at 1581/2, which was fractionally light for him. Stripped to their underwear, they made brief eye contact, then pulled on their garments and departed.
Not present at the morning events were four others who would play roles in the bout. Richard Steele, of Las Vegas, was the referee. Dave Moretti, of Las Vegas, Lou Filippo, of Downey, Calif., and Jose (Jo Jo) Guerra, of Monterrey, Mexico, were the scoring judges. All three judges were veterans who had worked several championship bouts.
The Nevada Athletic Commission had appointed all four within the last 10 days in a process hidden from public view. The Mexico City-based WBC, the only sanctioning body whose title would be contested, had submitted an initial list of judge candidates. The Nevada commission had selected the three judges from the WBC list, although the commission had latitude to expand the list with local judges. Nevada officials probably added Moretti's name to the initial WBC list, recalled Duane Ford, then the commission chairman.
"You get this list and if you're on the commission you're particular because outside officials can come in and lay an egg and we have to explain," recalled Ford. "You're familiar with an official before you let one come in here."
The two fighters were not permitted a formal veto, though, as a "courtesy," their input was considered. Hagler, who distrusted all things British as a result of his 1980 bout in London, rejected Harry Gibbs, of England, from the initial list. Guerra was appointed instead. Hagler and the Petronellis knew little about Guerra or Gibbs, but they embraced stereotypes that Mexican judges preferred punchers to boxers, while European judges preferred boxers to punchers. Guerra, they believed, would be more amenable to Hagler's style.
Steele, 43, a former Marine and professional (light heavyweight) boxer, had refereed numerous title bouts throughout the 1980s, including Hagler-Hearns. Moretti, 42, who worked in customer service for an association of publishers, had judged title bouts since the early 1980s, notably the Larry Holmes-Gerry Cooney heavyweight match in 1982. Filippo, 62, a metallurgist and a former pro boxer, had judged title bouts for 10 years but was best known for his role as a referee in the Rocky films. Guerra, 54, made his living in real estate and had worked 40 title bouts.
Caesars was mobbed throughout the afternoon and early evening, its casino and pool area and sports betting parlor shoulder-to-shoulder with boxing enthusiasts, gamblers, and assorted hustlers. D'Amico estimated that 50,000 people were on the property, including more than a thousand owners of liquor stores in for a convention. Those with tickets, including about 2000 "preferred" customers who were provided comps by Caesars, jostled with those who simply wanted to be close to the epicenter. Scalpers got as much as $2500 for a ticket.
Hagler, wedged between the Petronellis, Robbie Sims, and a couple of security aides, used a service elevator and a delivery entrance to get to his dressing room behind the stadium. Leonard arrived in a van that dropped him almost at the door of his dressing room. Guerra and Filippo, anonymous, made their way from their expense-paid rooms at Maxim's. Steele and Moretti arrived from their local residences.
Celebrities and VIPs filled up the choice seats near ringside. Sinatra arrived with restaurateur Jilly Rizzo and Betty Whitney. Entertainers Billy Crystal, Whoopi Goldberg, Joan Collins, Timothy Hutton, Gene Hackman, Jack Klugman, Tony Danza, Dolph Lundgren, Gregory Harrison, Telly Savalas, David Brenner, Chevy Chase, and Bo and John Derek were there. The Pointer Sisters, who were to sing the national anthem, settled in near ringside. John Madden, Jimmy Connors, Yannick Noah, Willie Mays, Wilt Chamberlain, John T
hompson, Ray Mancini, and Thomas Hearns were present. Security officials tried to restrict paparazzi from clogging up the aisles during the preliminary bouts, with little success. Joan Collins and Bo Derek were favorite targets of the cameras, to their delight.
Hagler and Leonard were in adjacent dressing rooms at the indoor pavilion, separated by a thin plasterboard wall. Sound from both dressing rooms carried into the other, recalled Marc Ratner, the Nevada official who was the inspector in Leonard's dressing room.
"When Ray was getting his hands taped by Angelo Dundee they were yelling through the wall, 'Hagler, you're an old man, you're not gonna win tonight,'" recalled Ratner.
Somebody from Hagler's side pounded on the walls and shouted a retort, which provoked another volley from Leonard's group, led by his brothers, Roger and Kenny. The give-and-take went on for an extended period. Leonard seemed better able to ignore it than Hagler, who was tense. Hagler appeared to hyperventilate at one point, according to what "a reliable source with access" told D'Amico. Steele, the referee, came to both dressing rooms to go over rules and regulations, and to instruct both fighters to "obey my commands at all times."
The judges, Moretti, Guerra, and Filippo, took their seats at the edges of the canvas. Filippo and Guerra were on opposite sides. Moretti was opposite the TV broadcasters, Gil Clancy and Tim Ryan, for the live closed-circuit telecast, and Larry Merchant and Barry Tompkins, for HBO's delayed telecast.
Finally it came time for the atavistic entering of the ring. Everything about it - the robed and hooded specter of the fighters, the "blood scream" of the crowd, the ripe anticipation of violence - suggested an ancient and primitive rite. "You know they're not cheering because they like the two guys," recalled journalist Wallace Matthews. "They're cheering for them to kill each other."
Leonard came first, down an aisle lined by police, surrounded by his entourage who fended off the outstretched hands of fans. In place of a traditional boxing robe, he wore a tapered white satin waist-jacket with red trim, flared sleeves and flared red collar - a fanciful Through the Looking Glass fashion. His face was dark and serious as he inched forward, bobbed up and down, and rolled his shoulders. He clambered into the ring, jabbed and fired combinations at the air, spun backward, punched more air, shook out his legs, and jumped lightly from foot to foot. Then the waist-jacket came off to reveal white satin shorts with red stripes. Red tassels on his shoelaces provided racy accents.
Hagler came next, fronted by Robbie Sims and flanked by Pat and Goody Petronelli. His dark blue robe was traditional, with the hood up over his head, and a white towel wrapped around his chest up to his neck. Edwin Starr's song, "War," blasted from the stadium speakers, and Hagler's face was partially hidden, which created a chilling effect, as though he were Hooded Death. In the ring Hagler removed his robe to reveal dark blue trunks with white stripes and white waistband. He shook out his magnificent torso, and jumped lightly from one foot to the other. Leonard, meanwhile, prowled from one side of the ring to the other, and nearly brushed shoulders with Hagler, who was anchored near his own corner. They avoided eye contact.
High atop Caesars Palace a high-tech fireworks display exploded into an out-sized American flag as the Pointer Sisters sang the national anthem.
Ring announcer Chuck Hull, a local fixture with a deep voice and a coiffure of gray hair, announced the scoring judges, ringside physicians, and the referee. Then it was time.
"This is the main event of the night," Hull proclaimed. "Twelve rounds of boxing for the WBC middleweight championship of the world.
"Introducing in the blue corner, fighting out of Potomac, Maryland, weighing in at 158 pounds, with a pro record of 33 wins and one defeat with 24 KOs, he is the challenger and former undisputed welterweight champion of the world, Sugar Ray Leonard."
Leonard's introduction ended in a crescendo of boos and cheers. Hull continued.
"And in the red corner from Brockton, Massachusetts, weighing 1581/2 pounds, his pro record is 62 wins, 2 draws, 2 defeats and 52 KOs, the WBC middleweight champion of the world, Marvelous Marvin Hagler."
Hagler's introduction brought a louder more enthusiastic ovation. The crowd was with Hagler.
Steele summoned the fighters and corner men to center ring. Hagler stared at Leonard while Leonard looked down.
"Okay listen, I gave both of you your instructions in your dressing room," said Steele. "I want to caution you again - obey my commands at all times. Shake hands and good luck."
They tapped gloves and returned to their corners. Angelo Dundee talked to Leonard and smoothed clear grease above and below his eyes. Goody Petronelli spoke to Hagler, who pounded his gloves against his chest, and muttered, "Let's go" over and over.
The corner men cleared the ring. The two fighters shook their limbs and looked at one another. The bell rang for Round One.
Chapter 16
1987: Twelve Rounds
Rounds 1 and 2: Leonard
Leonard's sorcery, con, science and salesmanship - his very essence - took hold at the opening bell. Within seconds Hagler was, as referee Richard Steele later described it, "sort of hypnotized."
Gil Clancy: "Hagler is not boxing as a southpaw. I just don't like that at all - why he does that I'll never know."
Hagler started in a right-handed, or orthodox, stance, with his left foot and left hand forward. A rare ambidextrous fighter, Hagler could fight orthodox or left-handed, but he was more effective as a southpaw for the reason left-handed pitchers are effective in baseball - they are less frequently seen. Leonard, who had been confused by ordinary southpaws in the past, expected Hagler to fight as a southpaw and occasionally switch.
"To be honest, it was a rather dumb move," Leonard said later. "If he came in southpaw it would have been more difficult. I would have had to concentrate on my balance more."
Not only was Hagler right-handed, he was cautious. He had vowed to "smash out" Leonard's eye, but instead, he plodded forward at a deliberate pace.
Hagler's cautious start gave Leonard time to get his bearings, calm his nerves, and find a groove. It allowed spectators and judges to exhale, expectations to adjust, and drama to build.
Larry Merchant: "It's very clear Leonard is trying to fight a tactical fight, moving away, flurry, clinching, moving again."
Hagler's down-tempo start in an orthodox stance was curious. The most generous explanation is that he sought a quick knockout, and his right-handed stance was a ruse to confuse Leonard and set up his right hand.
"Marvin was fighting for power," said J.D. Brown, Leonard's "spy." "Marvin would use his right hand for the power punch. He fought from the right-hand side because he was trying to knock Ray out."
But Goody Petronelli later conceded that Hagler abandoned his fight plan.
"That wasn't part of our plan at all," Petronelli recalled. "He just did it. You do things out of natural instinct and he probably didn't even know he went right-handed."
The most plausible explanations come back to the basic and complex psychology between Leonard and Hagler. Pride, vanity, ego, macho - a testosterone-spiked stew of masculinity - were at stake.
Clancy believed Hagler decided to beat Leonard at his own game, as a boxer, and not a brawler. The hubris that lured Hagler into a 12-round distance may have convinced him he could out-box Leonard.
"He was so overconfident," Clancy said later. "He wanted to show Ray he could out-box him."
Tense in the dressing room, Hagler's judgment in the ring may have been impaired by nerves.
"At one point I did this," Leonard recalled, demonstrating a feint. "And he did that" - he demonstrated Hagler's nervous reaction.
"And I said to myself, 'he's just as scared as I am.' So that kind of neutralized things, it gave me a better feeling, a better footing...because I felt that his nerves were just as jittery as mine."
Absent pressure, Leonard was able to dart and feint and sneak in an occasional punch. At two minutes Hagler switched to southpaw and scored to Leonard's body.
With 30 seconds left, Ollie Dunlap shouted "thirty," from his seat at ringside. On cue, Leonard flurried. His three-punch combination was the most active moment in the round.
"My plan was to keep moving and have my corner yell 'thirty seconds' and then attack with a series of combinations to steal the round," Leonard recalled.
Hagler's response was a half-second late and missed. In the final seconds they grappled and were separated by Steele, who barked, "Don't hold him Ray."
All three judges scored the 1st round for Leonard. The 2nd round was more active, though still tentative. Hagler applied more pressure and worked to Leonard's body, but for long stretches he plodded and boxed at a distance.
Gil Clancy: "Ray has done a psych job on him."
Leonard directed a stream of chatter toward Hagler, according to Steele, the referee.
"Leonard would say 'I told you you couldn't box. I told you you were nothing but a puncher, nothing but a slugger,'" recalled Steele. "The more he did it the more Hagler tried to out-box him."
Hagler did not say much, Steele recalled. But Leonard remembered that he did.
(c) Jeff Gale
Hagler lost the first four rounds trying to out-box Leonard.
"Hagler was talking to me," Leonard recalled. "He called me a girl. He said, 'Slow down, sissy.' 'Fight me like a man, little bitch.'"
With 30 seconds left Leonard scored with a right hand, and in the final seconds, as they grappled, Leonard landed to Hagler's body.
(c) Jeff Gale
Leonard's fast hands tattooed Hagler's burnished skull.
Again, all three judges gave the round to Leonard. After two rounds Leonard had thrown 51 punches and landed 29, while Hagler had thrown 54 and landed 11. They were slow rounds, and had they occurred in a club fight, spectators might have lost interest. But in this fight they were important, because Leonard's viability was established. The crowd began to shift toward Leonard.
Sorcery at Caesars: Sugar Ray's Marvelous Fight Page 13