Hands of Stone - Christian Giudice [53]
Although Duran had many girlfriends, none affected him like Felicidad or “Fula” as she was known. In 1972, after much coercion, she moved into his apartment in Caledonia. Their first son, Chavo, or Roberto Jr. was due to arrive later that year.
Instead of defending his title, in September and October of 1972 Duran took on two relatively easy opponents, Greg Potter and Lupe Ramirez, in non-title bouts. Potter, from Joplin, Missouri, was a college graduate and former US Navy champion, a stand-up boxer who had turned pro only a year before but had already gone the distance with both Carlos Ortiz – “a master,” said Potter – and the highly ranked Ruben Navarro. He was relaxing at home after the Navarro bout when his trainer called to say they’d been offered a short-notice, non-title fight against the new champion, whose scheduled opponent had pulled out. Potter trekked to Panama, where he suffered from diarrhea and was weakened when he climbed into the ring.
“It was a slugfest,” he remembered. “I went out and slugged with him and you don’t do that with Roberto Duran. As a young man he grew up on the streets and he shined shoes and had to fight from a young age to keep the money he made, and he had a lot of … the word that comes to mind is hate, built up in him. He was a vicious fighter. He was fighting when he came out of the corner.”
Potter was no match for the fired-up champion and was knocked out in the first round. He later gained a Masters in psychology and a PhD in counseling, and runs a practice counseling on personal performance and goal-achieving. He still recalls his opponent with rueful admiration. “I don’t remember a whole lot about his punch because he knocked me out in the first round. But I think he could hit pretty good.”
Lupe Ramirez, who had previously gone the distance with both the brilliant Antonio Cervantes and the hard-hitting Chango Carmona, was also blasted out in a single round.
Duran’s next opponent was a much stiffer test. Twenty-two-year-old Esteban DeJesus, from Puerto Rico, belonged with the best that his proud country had to offer. He came from the rowdy town of Carolina on the Atlantic coast, otherwise known as “El Pueblo de Las Tumbas Brazos,” or the Arm Hackers’ Town, for the natives’ predilection for violence, often involving machetes. It was also called “La Tierra de Gigantes,” Land of Giants, because it was home to a seven-foot-eleven-inch goliath called Don Felipe Birriel. Baseball hero Roberto Clemente was another celebrated Carolinan. Having survived such a dangerous place, DeJesus learned his trade in the rings of San Juan. An all-rounder who could box, move and punch, he went on to win the Puerto Rican lightweight title in New York’s Felt Forum. He had already boxed in the Garden and his last win had come just three weeks before the Duran bout. He boasted a 29-1 record, with eighteen knockouts to his credit, his only loss coming against WBA featherweight champion Antonio Gomez. DeJesus was the third-ranked lightweight in the world and he was sharp and ready.
Throughout his career, Duran would badmouth Puerto Ricans about how they couldn’t take a punch, and they would respond in kind. Both he and they seemed to enjoy the jingoistic rivalry between two small but proud Latin-American states, both of which lay in the long shadow of the USA. Added to that was the special intensity when Latin fighters face off with their countrymen at their back. “If a Latino man fights a non-Latino you can bet we’ll be rooting for the man who speaks Spanish,” said former world champion Jose Torres, himself a Puerto Rican. “But the rivalry doesn’t stop there. The competition between Latinos is even more exciting. You see, we know each other. We know how to intimidate each other. And we know how to resist it. But we are very dramatic in the process. Some of us even get violent, a luxury we seldom get off the gringo.”Added to that was Duran’s chilling intensity. “When I went up into