Hands of Stone - Christian Giudice [63]
Despite stifling heat and humidity, Duran, resplendent in green trunks with yellow stripes and a Super Malta advertisement, wasn’t even sweating as he entered the ring for the showdown at the Nuevo Panama Gymnasium on 16 March 1974. The combatants had nearly identical records with Duran 40-1 (thirty-five KOs) and DeJesus 41-1 (twenty-nine KOs). Sixteen thousand fans had snatched up tickets ranging from $10 to $100 apiece, and Duran was a 2–1 betting favorite. HB soda and Atlas beer flowed as the fans watched local fighter Mario Mendoza ignite proceedings with a seventh-round knockout victory.
Once again, Duran would find himself looking up at DeJesus. DeJesus started strongly and set up the first big left hook with a straight right that landed flush on Duran’s jaw. Duran’s unruly black locks flew up in the air as he tried to balance himself. Unable to recover, the next left hook flattened him, again. He rose quickly with a disgusted look, took an eight-count and promised to exact revenge.
“I don’t agree that he beat me in the first fight,” said Duran. “DeJesus fought with Roberto Duran who just had an accident. When I fought the rematch, I was having too many problems making the weight for the fight here in Panama. I get a pimple on my face, I break it and keep messing with it. I burn it and get scarred. When he knocks me down in the rematch, Plomo says to me, ‘Hey what happened, he knocked you down with the same hand as before?’ I said, ‘Take it easy man, I’m about to rip his ass up.’”
Cornermen Arcel and Brown knew their fighter was only temporarily shaken. Between rounds, Duran sat without emotion, no snarl or disdain, just innocence; a surreal snapshot of detachment. Whatever the old men preached, Duran looked through them. He knew what to do. In truth, DeJesus, 134½, had also struggled mightily to shed pounds to reach the 135-pound lightweight limit, and lacked the vim of their first fight.
The old adage that you “don’t hook with a hooker” was forgotten as Duran tore into DeJesus in an action-packed second round. In the third, Duran responded with a blizzard of punches. On the inside he shortened his blows, used his shoulders to crowd the Puerto Rican and raked DeJesus with the top of his head. He ended the round with a furious nine-punch barrage. It marked the first clear-cut round for Duran in over thirteen rounds of boxing with the Puerto Rican.
The champion began to move and show his defensive skills in the fourth, landing and avoiding DeJesus’ counters at blink speed. He had the ability to “go” with a punch, turning or tilting his head slightly, but decisively on impact to negate the force. Blows that looked solid to spectators and seemed to jolt his head were in fact robbed of power. Rarely did Duran take a clean shot. The challenger was always dangerous, but was clearly bothered by both his opponent’s attack and the Panama heat. His blows arrived singly, not in combination, and he began to jab and move to dodge punishment. Brawling with this Duran was not an option.
The champion bled first, a gash opening under his left eye after the sixth round. But he ignored it to land a left-right combination and then artfully fall into DeJesus, bringing his elbows up to his chest to grab him in a clinch to prevent any counter. It was a beautiful sequence, executed in rapid succession.
By round seven, the writing was on the wall. The force of Duran’s punches could be measured by the swaying of the crowd; with each solid hit they rose in a wave, arms aloft. The roar became deafening when Duran clubbed DeJesus to his knees with a quick right hand halfway through the round. For a few seconds it looked like DeJesus wouldn’t get up. He looked all in, yet he couldn’t stay down. Being a boxer came with a steep price. Defeat was no shame but any perceived lack of courage was. The life he had chosen