Hands of Stone - Christian Giudice [176]
Duran’s sisters Anna and Isabelle live with Clara at the home in Los Andes. They are obviously fond of their brother and credit him, not VictorninoVargas, with being the father they needed. They talk about Duran’s jealous streak and how every boyfriend feared their brother. However, Anna does not like the attention that she gets for being related to a famous boxer. Everywhere she goes people say, “There’s Duran’s sister.” She has stayed with her mother for support but yearns to travel. There are no chairs in the house, just empty space. Family members and friends filter in and out throughout the day. Ripped photos of Duran’s career adorn the walls. All of this is a sign that life has changed and might never be the same.
“It was a painful moment when Roberto was boxing,” said Clara. “It was a great pain to know he was receiving punches. I would always just wait until it was over and then I would ask him if he won. I don’t know what happened [to my son],” said Clara. “Sometimes this idea makes me very sad, and so I start singing a song, a popular song, and then I feel like crying…
“I go to his house because he does not come to my house. He always behaves very well with me. He kisses me and asks me to take care of myself. I always tell him not to worry about me. So I leave and come back home. He asks me not to marry again and I tell him I won’t. I do not know how does he feel now … It just makes me sad to see my son like this, for he was a very good son. That is why I sometimes feel like singing the song that goes, ‘Mano de Piedra Duran …’ [she starts singing a song in which she prays to the Virgen del Carmen for her son, and another one which also tells about Duran’s life, ‘No Llores Más,’ a bolero]. This is a song Roberto likes very much. I heard this last song when they were singing it on the radio, and I learned it.”
Tears form as she sings the final song for her son.
JOURNALIST DANIEL Alonso, who has known Duran for many years, calls his life “a story with a sad ending.” But it is not over, and who can say how it will end? Sadness and poignancy there is, but also hope and a defiant kind of joy. “He has that house and many expenses and many problems,” said his brother Toti, “but he remains the same person. He has not lost his high spirits. He is never sad. You can see him here in the Chorrillo on Sundays, always laughing and having fun. He goes to the beach. If he sees someone who needs money, he will always give him some. He does not care about money.”
Salsa superstar Ruben Blades once told a reporter, “You go to his house and there he’ll be in his shorts. It is not a plastic thing, Roberto’s life. It is amazing. The more attention he gets, the less complicated he gets. He is very, very close with all of his relatives. He doesn’t travel with people who want to make him feel great by saying, ‘Yes, Yes, Roberto,’ all the time building up his ego. He doesn’t need them or want them.”
Roberto Duran’s hands are soft, fleshy maps of a life of fighting in streets and rings. His knuckles are ghastly bumps, narratives of the men who confronted him. The man – father, friend and son – has lived in extremes. He has stood with presidents, dined with world figures, danced with goddesses, defeated poverty, partied with celebrities, sipped the world’s best champagne, driven expensive cars, draped himself in rare jewelry, and brawled and bested the world’s toughest men. He thrived among crowds. When his people turned away, he turned inward; when the world called out, he soaked in its luxuries. When he fought, he punched to kill. When the sport passed him by, he still heard its addictive call. All fighters do. As his reflexes and skills slowly left him, he tilted at ghosts that no longer existed.
Yet when someone was in need, he