Hands of Stone - Christian Giudice [134]
The numbers from the fight proved astounding. Moore-Duran fight brought the biggest crowd – 20,061, of which 19,000 were paid admissions – since Ali-Frazier II in 1974. Duran was on a $100,000 purse, with the possibility of $500,000 in incentives, while Moore was guaranteed $300,000.
More than 20,000 packed the Garden that June evening. Coming in to the fight, Duran was a 2-1 underdog. Boxing experts such as Michael Katz, Shelly Finkel and Jim Jacobs all sided with Moore. In fact, very few thought Duran would win. Although Moore was a Bronx native, the momentum shifted as the majority of the fans flocked to see their own Latin legend. “This is my town, my city, I’m the all-American, and everybody was for Duran,” Moore would complain later. “Everybody was Panamanian.” Not quite everyone, however. Before Duran stole the spotlight, another icon stole his thunder. “All of a sudden Muhammad Ali walks into the building and you hear nineteen thousand people start chanting his name,” said Steve Farhood. “And remember he’s only three years removed from boxing.”
During referee Ernesto Magana’s pre-fight instructions, Moore took the notion of staredown literally as he tucked his head in his powerful chest and thought about the coming battle. With Moore’s chin on chest and Duran swiveling his head like a speed bag, Magana addressed both fighters as a son would his children. Duran looked over at Moore’s bowed head with a glare. Moore was a kid who could be great, but Cholo had been there already.
The first minute saw barely a punch landed as the combatants circled the ring. The key moment came just before the bell. Duran threw a jab and seemed to thumb Moore in the right eye at the same time. Moore lifted his glove to the eye and pawed at it, a giveaway that he was hurt. The move was more than a distraction, but was emblematic of the ensuing violence, as Moore was in with an opponent for whom rules meant little.
The injured eye was already closing when Moore came out for the second. For the next two rounds Duran, the veteran, embarked on a controlled but brutal assault, his hooks pounding the champion’s ribs, his jabs finding that damaged eye. Moore fired back, but at ringside Ray Leonard noted that Duran was “going with” the punches, rolling his head to mitigate their impact.
Duran poured it on, insulting Moore in the clinches, slipping his counters, jerking his head back with uppercuts, splitting his bottom lip. Moore had never been privy to such savagery, and had no idea how to cope. He started at Moore’s chest, then led to his head, confusing the younger man. “Is he hurting you?” Moore’s worried trainer asked between rounds. “Are you all right?” Moore didn’t need to answer: the shock and pain was written on his bruised face. In round five, the challenger landed two crunching rights, then was warned for a low blow. He showed no mercy, never did. By round six, Moore’s eye was closed so tightly that his corner no longer worked on it. With Moore blind in one eye, Duran was now picking his shots, while the champion tried to work inside where his lack of vision was less of a hindrance.
In the seventh round, it became massacre. Moore was still throwing punches but Duran’s short left hooks found his jaw with sickening repetition. After one short flurry from Moore, Duran gave him a classic shit-eating grin. Puss and sweat flew off Moore’s right eye. Ringsiders cringed or hid their eyes behind fingers. Moore’s girlfriend and mother passed out. Journalist and Athletic Commission boxing representative Jose Torres, who had seen men die in the ring, was on his feet screaming, “Stop the fight, stop the fight.”
The massacre hit its hideous peak as Duran finally threw a straight right off a hook and Moore was blown off his feet and hurled to the canvas near the ropes. Nobody would have objected to stopping the fight as a brave Moore pushed himself up on his feet. There was little left in the fighter, but heroically he rose to his