Hands of Stone - Christian Giudice [108]
Before the fight, Duran had asked a reporter, what is a kid born yesterday going to teach me? But it was more about what Leonard had learned from Duran. He had learned that he couldn’t allow another fighter to intimidate or anger him before a fight, and that he couldn’t beat a streetfighter in a slugfest. Hawaii allowed Leonard to face reality. He returned from his vacation set on revenge – but on his own terms.
“When I was running on the beach in Hawaii everyone was telling me, ‘Man, that fight was close. Man, if you fight him the other way you’ll beat him.’ I got such support from fans that I told Mike [Trainer], ‘Let’s go back and fight him. Now, right away.’”
On June 24, meanwhile, the new welterweight champion had landed in Panama to an estimated 700,000 fans jostling for a glimpse of him. It was declared Roberto Duran Day in Panama. “I want you to know this,” he told the crowd, pointing to his championship belt. “This does not really belong to me, but belongs to you, my people, my people who supported me and whom I love.” The crowd, misunderstanding where he was pointing, burst into laughter. “The Panamanian public always thinks the wrong thing. I grab the belt and say, this that is hanging here is for you guys,” said Duran. “I’m talking about the belt, and the Panamanians thought I was talking about a little further ‘down south.’ And after a while it became a big joke.”
Fittingly, given how he would celebrate over the next few weeks, a new beer, Manos De Piedra, was brewed in his honor. No more dropping horses in Guarare to pay for liquor tabs, or shining lawyers’ shoes for pittance; now he had the money to buy the bar and the horse. Young, handsome and draped in the Armani that he and Chaflan used to admire in store windows, Duran had everything he could have dreamed of. With months of hard training and abstinence behind him, he embarked on an unending party, surrounded by a mass of sponging friends and family.
Duran went back to New York to continue the party with his friends Abuela Lopez and Chivo Sagur. “Duran took them both to New York together with his own wife after he won in June,” said Plomo. “They remained there until September, and they would go out a lot together. He confessed having spent about $100,000 during that time in New York. He would pay for all the expenses.”
Carlos Eleta, whose grip on his boxer had inevitably loosened as he became older, wealthier and more independent, faced a crucial decision. An extraordinarily lucrative offer was on the table for an immediate rematch with Leonard. Should he take it? The rich landowner worried about his fighter’s lifestyle. The way Duran was running off the rails it was not impossible that he could lose his next fight even if they selected a patsy.
Ever since the day Eleta had caught Duran stealing coconuts in his backyard, he had felt a bond with the young tearaway. They had made millions together and their business relationship had turned into a familial closeness. But money had also evened the playing field and gave Duran freedom – or license. It was perhaps a sign of how Eleta’s control was slipping that he felt compelled to tie up a rematch with Leonard quickly, before Duran self-destructed; for he already suspected he could do little to stop him. “I made that rematch in three months because he started drinking,” said Eleta. “I said if he will fight again, he would lose to a second-rate fighter.”
To this day, people are critical of Eleta’s decision. “I was surprised that he made the rematch that quickly,” said Luis DeCubas, who would manage Duran towards the end of his career. “If you know you have a fighter who’s going to celebrate for a while, then wait to make a rematch.” It was