Gil Clancy: "Goody Petronelli is in the corner talking like it was a 15-round fight. I would have been a little more emotional if I was in his corner."
Tim Ryan: "I think Hagler has to realize that sentiment is going to have to be with Leonard and he's going to have to knock him out to retain his title."
Gil Clancy: "That's not what they're telling him in his corner. They're talking to him like it's an IBM meeting or something - no emotions."
Leonard moved to center ring. At the bell he extended his gloves to tap with Hagler's in the traditional gesture of sportsmanship. Hagler held back, until Steele guided him toward Leonard and ordered him to tap gloves.
The 12th was theater, as first Leonard, then Hagler, played to the judges. Hagler stalked, and Leonard backpedaled and glided in lateral arcs, just out of range. At one minute Hagler forced Leonard to the ropes and slammed his body with two hard lefts. By now Leonard's response was predictable - he flurried to Hagler's head and spun away. As Leonard danced at center ring, the crowd came to its feet and chanted, "Sugar Ray, Sugar Ray."
Gil Clancy: "You know who the crowd thinks is winning this fight."
Tim Ryan: "Ray Leonard is having fun in there now - what a story."
Leonard mugged and wiggled his right glove in the air. Hagler mimicked him. The two fighters had words and made faces at one another. Leonard unleashed a shuffle. They grappled, Leonard held Hagler's head, and Steele barked, "Let him go Ray."
With 20 seconds left Leonard's back was to the ropes again. Hagler banged at his body, and Leonard flurried softly to Hagler's head.
Ten seconds remained when Hagler ripped a solid left to Leonard's ribs. Leonard "patty-caked," as Moretti recalled it, and Hagler slammed home two more thudding lefts. Then came the final bell, not a second too soon for Leonard.
Barry Tompkins: "How do you like it? How do you like it?"
The parking lot stadium was in bedlam. For the last time the three judges marked their scores. After their pencils stopped moving, Leonard dropped to his knees and was hoisted up by Janks Morton and Ollie Dunlap. Hagler, arms upraised, broke into a kind of nervous shimmy or boogaloo that was out of character and place. The Petronellis, Duane Ford recalled, "told him to knock it off."
Moretti and Guerra gave the round to Hagler, while Filippo gave it to Leonard. The final punch figures had Leonard at 306-for-629 (49 percent), and Hagler at 291-for-792 (37 percent).
Leonard made his way across the rapidly populating ring to Hagler. The two fighters hugged and Leonard pecked Hagler on the cheek. They exchanged a few words that soon would become the object of minor controversy.
Then Leonard climbed atop a strand of the ropes, raised his arms to the crowd, and awaited the decision.
Larry Merchant: "Both fighters think they won the fight."
Split Decision
The stadium quieted for Chuck Hull's announcement at center ring.
"Ladies and gentlemen, here is the decision of the judges. We have a split decision."
Groans and boos coursed throughout the stadium.
"Judge Lou Filippo scores it 115 Marvin Hagler 113 Ray Leonard.
"Judge Jo Jo Guerra scores it 118 Leonard 110 Hagler.
"Judge Dave Moretti scores it 115-113, for the winner by a split decision, and new..."
The noise drowned out Hull. Leonard, poised on the strand of rope, held his arms aloft, shouted, and beamed his million-dollar smile.
Hagler shook his head and flicked a hand, as if to say, "Bullshit." Robbie Sims consoled him, but Hagler's expression hardened with the realization. Victimized, again.
Lou D'Amico climbed into the ring and hugged Dundee. His dream, and the split decision, yielded a $300,000 bulge for Caesars Sports Book.
Merchant buttonholed Leonard and asked him if he could have lasted in a 15-round fight.
"My heart was in the fight - I would have pushed it no matter what," Leonard said. "This was a great accomplishment for me. A lot of people didn't think I could do it - you didn't - for good reason."
Tapping his heart, Leonard said, "What it was all about was what was in here. I hope they don't say Marvelous Marvin Hagler's talent had eroded. I beat a guy who was as determined as he was in the past."
Moments later, Merchant held a microphone up to Hagler and asked if he thought he had won.
"I did win the fight, no doubt about it, " Hagler said. "After the 4th round I took the fight, kept it going, made him fight every second of the way. I kept the pressure on. He didn't hurt me, that flurry stuff didn't mean anything. I'm in Vegas, you know. He stole it. He knows he lost it, everybody knows he lost it."
"Would you consider a rematch?" Merchant asked.
"I don't want to think about that," Hagler said. "I don't think it's fair."
"Were you surprised at the pace he sustained?"
"That's all he had to do - anybody who goes the distance with me... I gotta tell you Larry, I'm the greatest. I proved I'm the true champion. He didn't knock me down, didn't hurt me at all. C'mon. I just can't believe it."
Hagler moved to exit the ring. From behind Leonard tapped him on the shoulder in a poignant scene captured by HBO's camera.
"Marvin, Marvin," Leonard said.
Hagler glanced sideways at Leonard.
"It wasn't fair," Hagler said.
"We're still friends," Leonard said.
"It's not fair."
"But we're still friends?"
Hagler turned to leave.
"It was a good fight," Leonard said.
Hagler glanced back. He said something inaudible about "Vegas," and added, "You gave me a good fight."
Leonard reached for Hagler's right hand with his left. Their hands clasped for a moment, and then Hagler pulled away.
Later, at the pavilion, before the assembled media, Hagler aired his version of their first exchange of words, just seconds after the final bell.
"Leonard told me himself, 'You beat me,'" said Hagler. "And I was so happy, man, I knew I beat him. And then when they take it away from me like that, it's hard to believe."
Leonard later claimed Hagler misunderstood him.
"I said 'You're still a champion to me,'" said Leonard. "I would never lie to Marvin."
Chapter 17
1987: The Cause of Emotion
Hagler left the pavilion and crossed the parking lot toward the hotel. Thirsty, he spotted a beer truck at a loading dock. "Hey man, can I have a beer?" he asked the stunned driver, who recognized him at a glance. "Sure Marvin, have all you want," he was told. Hagler shouldered a case, thanked the man, and disappeared into the hotel.
Leonard rode on the shoulders of his security chief, James Anderson, through a cheering casino at Caesars. He had lost 13 pounds, and was weak and dehydrated, but wanted to soak in the acclaim. At the coffee shop he ran into Emanuel Steward.
"Who do you think won?" Leonard asked.
"To be honest with you, I had Hagler by a point," Steward said. "But the fact you did what you did puts you on a whole other level - I have so much more respect for you."
The next morning Leonard bought a $15,000 Piaget watch at a hotel boutique.
That same morning the Hagler camp retaliated against Guerra and Moretti.
Pat Petronelli told media that Guerra "should be put in jail" for giving 10 rounds to Leonard and 2 to Hagler. His statement implied Guerra had committed a crime, though no crime actually was charged or uncovered, unless being human, with feelings and preferences, is a crime. Petronelli had no way of knowing that as a young man, in the mid 1950s, Guerra had lived in Chicago. There, he held a factory job and boxed as an amateur at a local gym. One day Sugar Ray Robinson, training for a comeback bout against Ralph "Tiger" Jones, came into the gym and asked for a sparring partner.
"He wanted to pick up speed," Guerra recalled. "The trainer, George Gainsford, said to me 'You're fast - do you want to help him a couple of rounds?' And I said, 'Sure, he's my idol.'"
That was how Guerra came to spar two rounds wit
h the boxer who created the mold - and nickname - for Leonard. If Sugar Ray Robinson was Guerra's "idol," it stands to reason that Sugar Ray Leonard exerted a strong emotional pull on him. That was human bias in its most innocent non-criminal form. Leonard had only to give Guerra a plausible cover to exercise his bias.
In the face of criticism, Guerra refused to apologize or voice regret. "Leonard out-punched Hagler, outsmarted him, out-boxed him," Guerra said.
The irony was that the Petronellis had insisted that Guerra replace Harry Gibbs, the English judge chosen initially. They seemed to have forgotten that Gibbs had voted for Duran over Leonard in their first bout in 1980. Gibbs later said that he had scored Hagler an 8-4 winner over Leonard.
That same morning Bob Arum phoned Duane Ford, said, "I think the fight was fixed," and voiced "concerns" about Moretti, who gave 7 rounds to Leonard and 5 to Hagler. Ford alerted the office of Nevada Attorney General Brian McKay, who launched an investigation.
The month-long investigation cleared Moretti, who passed a lie detector test. It turned out Moretti had judged a bout in Norfolk, Va., in late March and had flown back to Las Vegas with Billy Baxter, the manager of one of the fighters. Baxter, a prolific local gambler, had talked to Moretti about partnering as boxing promoters. Baxter also had let Moretti know that he had placed a sizeable wager, of at least $30,000, on Leonard. Baxter's relationship with Leonard was such that he had helped arrange for the private home he used before the bout.
Moretti's actions were not criminal, but it stands to reason that Baxter, a potential business partner, exerted a strong emotional pull on him. Leonard had only to give Moretti a plausible cover to exercise his bias.
The attacks on the two judges served Hagler's and Arum's interests - the more dubious the decision the greater the impetus for a rematch, should there be one. But they also reflected the controversy over the decision. The debate began almost the instant it was announced. In a poll taken by Newsday of 25 ringside observers, 12 thought Hagler won, 10 scored it for Leonard, and three had it a draw.
A sampling of opinion, spoken and written, for Hagler:
Eddie Futch, trainer to several world champions: "I thought Hagler had a slight edge, probably by a few points. He was the champion and he made the fight with his aggressiveness."
Ray (Boom Boom) Mancini, former lightweight world champion: "Hagler definitely won the fight. Doesn't body punching count for anything anymore? Leonard wasn't doing anything in there but showboating."
Bob Verdi, Chicago Tribune: "They gave Leonard points for befuddling Hagler, making him look awkward, for taking Hagler's punches without splintering. Hagler was judged for what he should have done, not what he did. So astonishing was Leonard's imitation of himself that judges paid to be objective became accomplices to Leonard's filigree."
Steve Kelley, Seattle Times: "Alibis and sour grapes are as much a part of the fight game as blood and bluster. You listen to excuses, you wade through the sour grapes and you forget them. But last night was different. Marvelous Marvin Hagler was robbed."
Hugh McIlvanney, the Sunday Times: "This was showboating raised to an art form, and the brilliance with which it was sustained was a tribute to Leonard's wonderful nerve, which is cut from the same flawless diamond as Ali's...But, however much the slick ploys blurred the perceptions of those on the fevered sidelines, they never broke Hagler...he had enough to press on through his early frustrations and throw the superior volume of hurtful punches. I'm convinced Hagler won the fight; a draw, and the retention of the title, was the very least he deserved."
A sampling of opinion, spoken and written, for Leonard:
Mitch Albom, Detroit Free Press: "Fighters speak with their bodies, and in the final rounds Monday night Hagler's said defeat, he had been stumped, stymied, tripped up by light punches and fast footwork and psych job that he knew was coming. And that must have been the worst part. Like a man who can stay awake no longer, Hagler closed his eyes and found his old nightmare - right in front of him. 'I knew this would happen,' he mumbled at one point."
Jim Jacobs, historian and fight manager: "I thought Ray won clearly. He mixed technical skills with intestinal fortitude and Marvin Hagler got old before my eyes."
Fred Klein, Wall Street Journal: "The name of the sport is boxing, and on Monday night here Ray Charles Leonard showed why. He gave Marvelous M. Hagler a little this and a little that and a lot of air. When it was over he had Hagler's cherished middleweight championship belt. If Marv had worn a wristwatch into the ring, Leonard would have lifted it, too."
Tony Kornheiser, Washington Post: "He'd come like a cat burglar, stealing the crowd and the championship from Hagler. Hagler had advertised a war, and Leonard had obliged. But they weren't reading from the same manual. Hagler fought conventionally, attacking and pursuing straight ahead from a position of strength. Leonard, recognizing his inferior numbers, hit and ran, tantalizing and tormenting Hagler by fighting a thinking man's war."
Jim Murray, Los Angeles Times: "He didn't just outpoint Hagler, he exposed him. He made him look like a guy chasing a bus. In snowshoes. Marvelous Marvin Hagler should have put stamps on his punches. He kept aiming them at places Sugar Ray had left much earlier in the evening."
Among those who scored it a draw were Merchant, Dave Anderson of the New York Times, and Greg Logan of Newsday.
The debate was academic, of course. Leonard was the winner, and the object of public acclaim. Americans who knew little about boxing knew plenty about underdogs, and America's fondness for underdogs reached across its history. Leonard was likened to the New York Mets of 1969, Elvis Presley, Hank Aaron, Jimmy Carter in 1976, the fictional Rocky Balboa, and even the Founding Fathers.
"We are a people who admire the person of limited attributes who fights back," Indiana University sports psychologist Eugene Levitt told USA Today. "That appeals to the American soul...the little man overthrowing the big man."
"People have a hero again," said humorist Art Buchwald, who watched a closed-circuit telecast outside Washington, D.C. "Sugar Ray was an underdog. Everybody was worried about his eye. Everybody was worried he couldn't fight. Hagler looked ugly. Sugar Ray looks like somebody you'd adopt. You like the boy-next-door to win."
Leonard won because he tapped into the zeitgeist, as an underdog and as an actor. Indeed, McIlvanney likened boxing judges to theater critics reviewing an actor's performance while "making the pseudo-scientific adjustment of putting their impressions into figures."
"No one has ever understood the boxing judge as reviewer of theatre better than Sugar Ray Leonard," McIlvanney wrote; "...the overriding priority for him appeared to be the manipulation of official minds."
The third judge, Lou Filippo, who gave 7 rounds to Hagler and 5 to Leonard, summed it up. On HBO, a few days later, Filippo was asked if judges tend "to watch the guy who is doing the unexpected."
"That's absolutely right," Filippo said. "Everybody had their eye on Leonard. He causes the emotion."
Chapter 18
1987: Vanished
Leonard's magic was powerful, indeed - it made Hagler vanish. He vanished from the ring, never to fight again. For months after the fight, he vanished from his family and friends, almost literally. In seclusion he brooded and wept.
Not even his record payday could cheer him. The bout had grossed about $77 million, with close to two million closed-circuit customers, and about 80,000 (out of a potential 700,000) home pay-per-view buys. Leonard's share came to just under $12 million, while Hagler's came to about $18.5 million, an upgrade from his first purse of $50. The money should have cushioned his disappointment, but his mood grew darker by the day.
Pat Petronelli struggled to describe Hagler's fragile emotional state and finally settled upon "funk."
"Marv is in a funk," Petronelli said. "He's not himself."
Leonard returned to Washington and was greeted by 1000 fans at National Airport. A few days later Merchant interviewed him for HBO's delayed telecast. By now Leonard was annoyed
with efforts to cheapen his victory. He had been through this before, when Duran's "No Mas" stained his triumph in 1980.
Thus, when Merchant asked Leonard what "stuck out most" about the fight, his response was the verbal equivalent of a low blow.
"The most surprising thing that sticks out is that the fight was relatively easy," Leonard said. "I was able to hit Hagler with shots I would have hit an average guy who was a 12th or 15th contender. I'm not taking away from Hagler but he was more susceptible to punches than I anticipated."
Merchant pointed out that Hagler was perhaps the only "long-time" champion to lose his title by such a close decision, to which Leonard responded, "I don't think it was split. I beat him fair and square, decisively. I think it was unanimous."
Leonard's comments could not have improved Hagler's mood, if indeed he heard them. In late June 1987 Hagler and Bertha legally separated after she told a Massachusetts court he had pushed her out of the house and thrown a boulder at her car.
Days later John Dennis reported on Channel 7 in Boston that Hagler had fallen into "widespread alcohol and drug abuse" and that friends and family members had sought a medical intervention.
Hagler came to the Channel 7 studio and denied he used drugs. "He said 'You're wrong, I'm not doing this stuff,'" Dennis recalled. "He had the worst head cold you ever saw. His nose was running and he had a Kleenex in his hand. He sat and blew his nose and wiped his eyes. He was denying a coke problem while he had one in front of us. He said he had allergies."
Hagler admitted to Dennis that the loss to Leonard was on his mind. "I've been trying to keep from getting down," he said on-air. "I still think I won the fight, but I realize life has to go on and I still have to grow."
A rematch was widely anticipated, simply because a market existed, perhaps more fertile than the initial market. The bout had been that good, and the outcome that controversial. In a rematch both fighters reasonably could expect to divvy up $25-30 million.
Sorcery at Caesars: Sugar Ray's Marvelous Fight Page 15