Hands of Stone - Christian Giudice [85]
They stood across from each other for the last time. They had shared an ongoing dialogue in the argot of the streets but now it was no longer about Puerto Rico and Panama anymore, just two fabulous boxers who dominated a division they were both outgrowing. Duran kept his distance at the opening bell, jabbing and moving away from that familiar left hook. DeJesus also hesitated to engage. Neither fighter wanted to rush to battle.
The fight erupted in round three. Duran pounded DeJesus with his signature right hand to the head, followed him to the ropes but let him off. DeJesus returned fire and pasted Duran with a right of his own. Still, the men couldn’t equal the pace of the rematch.
Snarling and sneering, Duran barged DeJesus around and shook him again in the sixth with a barrage of thudding hooks. DeJesus fell into Duran’s waiting arms from the force of the punches, the weary look on his face was unforgettable. Bruises loomed on his cheek and on his eye. Duran refused to let up, but DeJesus took his best punches and danced away from any serious damage.
The most telling punch of the night landed in round ten, a magnificent right that sent DeJesus and his brujos back into a corner. It was only a matter of time before Duran caught up with his opponent. Going into the eleventh, the judges – one from the WBA, one from the WBC and one from the Nevada commission – had Duran comfortably ahead. DeJesus, however, was brave, and landed his best punch of the night, a left uppercut to the jaw that unbalanced Duran.
The Puerto Rican tried to follow up in the twelfth but a right to the chin – thrown seconds before his own right hand – sent DeJesus down. He began to paw helplessly, trying to grasp a rope, anything. In Panama people would refer to it as puso a gatear, pawing like a cat. It seemed DeJesus did not want to go on, but referee Buddy Basilico stared hard at him and felt he could continue.
These two fearless men had engaged in a boxing trilogy so macho and yet so cerebral that it touched the highest peak of the Noble Art. Now the end was nearing. DeJesus regained his feet and seconds later walked into another right hand. Duran’s next eleven punches connected as DeJesus lay expressionless along the ropes, as if praying that Basilico would step in. After the first nine punches connected, DeJesus lazily slumped into the ropes. Duran landed two more vicious shots before DeJesus handler Manny Sciaca entered the ring. Surprisingly, Basilico, with back turned, had still not stopped the slaughter. The fight was stopped at 2:32 of the twelfth round. “I cannot erase the loss,” said Duran. “But tonight I erased DeJesus.”
He was, finally, the undisputed lightweight champion of the world. He had also equalled the record of twelve successful defenses set by the Joe Brown. His jubilation did not stop him engaging in a brief brawl in the ring with DeJesus’ brother, which was quickly broken up. “I knew I had the fight in the seventh round when I punched him in the throat,” said Duran later. “I could have knocked him out earlier, but I felt that I must fight cautiously because I had not fought for a long time. DeJesus was best in the early rounds but after that I was able to make him miss a lot.”
It marked the end of a three-fight feud steeped in Latin lore, where two men forged mutual respect through bitter conflict. It is the nature for boxers to fight, hug and forget. In forgiveness they form a brotherhood. Though not ranked among the very greatest Puerto Rican fighters, DeJesus was well respected in boxing. “He had a lot of fans,” said Jose Torres, the former world champion from Puerto Rico who became a journalist