When It Comes to Marvin Hagler, Sugar Ray Leonard Still Pulls His Punches

I just finished reading Sugar Ray Leonard’s autobiography, The Big Fight: My Life in and Out of the Ring, published earlier this year by Viking. Not the best boxing book by a long shot, it is Leonard’s cathartic attempt at reconciliation and redemption—more or less.

He gives hints at why he abused cocaine and alcohol all those years, admitting to being sexually abused as a young amateur, once by a coach, another time by an older benefactor.

Page after page, he laments not being there for his son Ray Jr.’s childhood and confesses openly to cheating on his first wife Juanita time and time again, with no excuses.

But when it comes time to come clean about the “Superfight” with Marvelous Marvin Hagler in 1987, he won’t.

Now, that may be because he truly feels he won the fight. But I think it’s because he can’t stop perpetuating the con.

I’ve watched that fight numerous times over the years. Upon finishing Leonard’s book, I watched it again. Every time I do I come to the same conclusion: Hagler won.

Leonard literally stole the crown from atop his head. Here’s why:

1. Hagler pressed the action. That’s undeniable. Leonard even writes that, in the mind of the judges for his first fight vs. Roberto Duran, he was constantly on the defensive, and “that was no way to retain my crown.” In my view, Hagler did everything he was supposed to in order to retain his title. Ostensibly, Leonard would agree.
2. Sugar Ray basically won during the last 30 seconds of each round, launching an onslaught of punches right in front of the scorers’ table. In his autobiography, he admits to throwing “as many flurries as possible in hopes of leaving the judges with a positive impression that might help me secure the round.” In interviews before the fight, Leonard said on more than one occasion that he was going to steal rounds and win over the crowd. He apparently won over the judges, too. Well, one judge in particular…
3. While Dave Moretti scored it seven rounds to five for Leonard, and Lou Fillippo scored it that way for Hagler, Jo Jo Guerra went off the reservation. His two colleagues’ scores, both logical and reasonable, were overshadowed by Guerra’s ridiculous tally of 10 rounds for Leonard, two for Hagler. Sugar Ray felt compelled to write that even he had to agree “there was no way I took 10 of the 12 rounds,” but he stopped short of saying the fight may have been too close to call. One round the other way by Moretti and it would have been a draw, and Hagler would have retained his belt.
4. Leonard admits that his draw with Hearns in 1989, eight years after their historic first bout, should have been a win for his pal Tommy. Why not give Hagler the same respect? Is it because Hagler never warmed up to Leonard, the man who needs people to like him? Ever since Hagler was robbed in Vegas in ’87, he’s more or less shunned Leonard, while the “Hitman” and Sugar Ray couldn’t be chummier.
5. The 12 rounds that Leonard negotiated hard for (which he told Ringtv.com was in order to accommodate his return after a long layoff) ensured that Hagler wouldn’t have a chance to face him in rounds 13 to 15. The way Leonard fell to the canvas exhausted after the final bell makes me think Hagler would have lowered the boom in the “championship rounds.” He just never got the chance to get there.

I have to admit I never really cared much for Sugar Ray Leonard. While I appreciated his skills in the ring, I didn’t like him. He was the media darling, the flashy fighter with the million-dollar smile who chatted it up with Howard Cosell and infuriated me by retiring four separate times.

I liked Hagler. He was the blue-collar, no-nonsense southpaw from Brockton, Mass., who’d lock himself away during training camp and fought like the champions of old.

Sure, much of America was impressed with Leonard. He was articulate, personable and charming. And he was impressive in his comeback fight against Hagler. I didn’t think he’d be that good after that much time away from the ring.

But he didn’t win the fight. Hagler, who had been victimized in Las Vegas before, was jobbed again. It’s no wonder he’s still bitter.

Read Sugar Ray’s book if you’re a fan of his, or of boxing. But if you want to read a more honest account of his fight with Hagler, pick up a copy of Steve Marantz’s book, Sorcery at Caesars.

It’s less revisionist and says right up front, in the first sentence of the prologue, what Sugar Ray won’t confess to: “On the night of April 6, 1987, Sugar Ray Leonard stole a fight. A couple of million witnesses saw him get away with it.”