Hands of Stone - Christian Giudice [156]
Duran tripled up his right hands in the fifth and appeared invigorated in the sixth, while the Blade concentrated on a consistent body attack. Between rounds white healing cream was smeared on Barkley’s eye. In the opposite corner, Plomo sponged Duran’s face hard. Another man massaged his stomach. Duran was already looking through them, listening to his own instincts rather than his cornermen. “The big thing was how Duran changed his game plan during the fight,” said DeCubas. “The original plan was to turn Barkley, make him move and never let him get set. But the canvas was so thick that Duran had to stay in the trenches with him and go into the eye of the tornado.”
Barkley doubled up on a left hook and stunned Roberto late in the seventh round. Duran stuck his chest out as Cortez jumped between the fighters at the bell, then Plomo entered and nudged him back to the corner. Neither boxer was backing down.
This one is for Davey. Barkley nearly laid to rest Davey Moore’s ghost with a brilliant left hook in the eighth round. It caught Duran walking in and spun him around like a shotputter, his glove brushing the canvas, then his body contorted away from his opponent. Duran’s army of fans fell silent. Barkley stood for a moment, astonished his foe was still on his feet, then stormed in throwing right uppercuts and left hooks to the body. He raised his hand as the round ended. The crowd booed him but he had won the round and was gaining the edge.
“Barkley threw a punch at my chin, and I moved so Barkley would miss. I slipped and I ended up looking at the ring,” recalled Duran. “When I looked up Barkley hit me in the neck. He thought that he had me in a bad state but he didn’t have me dizzy. When I got back to the corner, Plomo said, ‘What the hell’s wrong?’ I said, ‘No Plomo, I went to go maneuver around and he hits me square in the throat.’ He asked if I was dizzy and I told him what the hell dizzy was. ‘Clean these gloves, I’m going to beat this black guy.’ I inspired myself from within. I told him, ‘You’re too strong for me; you’re too tall for me; but I know more than you.’”
Barkley’s left eye was by now a slit covered by bumps. Still, as the tenth closed Barkley’s left hook had proven to be just as effective as Duran’s right hand. Then Duran came back. Having tasted a left hook early in round eleven, Barkley got nailed late in the round with a right hand that froze him for a glancing left hook and another solid right that sent him to the canvas. Referee Cortez was over him counting away as he stared into Barkley’s squinting eyes. Rolling on his back, Barkley pushed himself up by the count of five as Roberto waited patiently to begin his celebration. With twenty-five seconds left for Duran to finish him off, the shots didn’t come fluidly enough and Barkley hung on, though partially blinded and stumbling.
The legions of fans who had made the snowy trek were on their feet. It had been a caustic eleven rounds of give-and-take. The final stanza began with a Duran left hook on the inside; Barkley responded with an uppercut. Both knew that they needed a strong finish, and with no charades they fought till the end. As the bell rang, Duran in typical style jutted his jaw in the middle of the ring as if to ask for more.
Plomo embraced him at the bell, then Duran hugged Barkley and told him in broken English, “Man, you very good, very strong.” Propelling himself closer to the crowd from the top rope, Duran signaled for approval. “Next time I fight Leonard I will be in a lot better shape. I love you Panama! I like you Miami. I like you United States.” He looked up and pointed his fist to the sky in relief and exultation. And as the scores were about to be read to the crowd, there was no indication that this was the last time Duran would truly be young again.
As the hubbub fell silent, the verdict was announced. The official scorecards showed a split decision: 118-112 and 116-112 for Duran, against 116-113 for Barkley. At thirty-seven years and eight