Hands of Stone - Christian Giudice [135]
Bumps contoured Moore’s face, yet for some reason the normally competent Magana let the slaughter continue. He seemed to be the only person in the Garden happy for the bout to go on. “Davey Moore was terribly beaten,” remembered Bert Sugar. “The generic ringside writers thought that Duran had stuck a thumb in his eye, myself not included, because his eye had ballooned. He was getting the shit kicked out of him. That was Duran at his greatest because he was through, or at least that was the thinking.”
The referee visited Moore’s corner but still the bout continued. Round eight was torture. Moore tried to hold on, but was trapped in his corner and terribly beaten, Duran’s thumping right landing again and again. A white towel fluttered into the ring, thrown by Moore’s corner, but Magana didn’t see it, and ignored screams from ringside for it to be stopped. Only when Duran’s handlers rushed between the ropes did Magana finally spot the towel and halt the round at 2:02.
Leon Washington, Moore’s trainer, would later claim in an interview that, “The only reason [Davey] wasn’t defending himself was that he couldn’t see.” Washington’s logic was based on the absurdity that he had no problem allowing a blind fighter back into the ring with a butcher. “Watching that fight, we knew we were watching the end of Davey Moore,” said Steve Farhood. “Duran was Duran and took this guy apart,” added Gil Clancy. “He did a complete job on him.”
Jumping up so that his body would hang over the top rope, Duran searched the crowd through tears of joy. More than twenty thousand fans lifted the Garden roof with a chant of “Doo-ran, Doo-ran” as the fighter, with tears rolling down his bearded cheeks, stepped through the ropes onto the ring apron and extended his arms, chanting with them, “the satanic eyes suddenly so human and weak.” Someone held him around the waist to stop him falling into the press section as the fans in the $100 ringside seats strained to touch him. In the cheaper seats, his fans waved banners declaring, “Feliz Cumpleanos, Manos de Piedra” – “Happy Birthday, Hands of Stone” and began to sing “Happy Birthday.” Soon the song was taken up by the whole stadium. “It was an amazing moment,” said Farhood. “It was like you were watching a rebirth.” Even Sugar Ray Leonard, looking on from ringside as a CBS commentator, climbed into the ring and held Duran’s arm aloft. The new champion thanked him, then added in English, “Say hello to your wife and your son.” Old enmities were blown away in the tide of emotion.
In eight rounds of action, Duran almost knocked the life out of Davey Moore. He also became the seventh fighter in history to win titles in three weight classes, joining the elite fraternity of Bob Fitzsimmons, Tony Canzoneri, Henry Armstrong, Barney Ross, Alexis Arguello and Wilfred Benitez. He cracked open a bottle of Moet and Chandon champagne in his hotel room to celebrate.
Duran had fulfilled the promise he made in the fall of 1982 to win a title in Torrijos’s honor. “I can’t find words to express how I failed in the past,” said Duran after the fight. “There are no excuses. Once I thought I was a man; now I am a man and I know it. In truth, I have such enthusiasm, like it was the first time I came to New York.”
“When everybody was thinking I am finished, I am world champion again,” said Duran the next day, after partying into the early hours. “After last night, I forget what happened in the past. I think only in the present and the future. I was born again last night.”
THOSE PEOPLE WHO had lined up to disparage Duran after Leonard II now crowded the same streets to share in his return to glory. Duran eventually