Hit Man - Brian Hughes [2]
I made a number of visits to the Kronk, taking my own boxers there to gain experience and knowledge in this unique atmosphere, while all the time learning myself. During one trip, I was watching the sparring when the tall, stick-thin figure of Thomas Hearns appeared. After a brief bit of stretching he put on his sparring gloves and got in the ring to spar against a light-welterweight named Dujuan Johnson, who was known by the nickname “Mr Excitement.” I watched with total absorption as they boxed four rounds of extraordinary ferocity and skill. It was better than any fight I had ever seen.
Hearns would go on to prove himself as one of the most loved and respected world champions and an all-time great. His story – and that of one of the best trainers in the world and his unique gym – has been a real pleasure to recount.
Brian Hughes, M.B.E.
1 THE DEFINING MOMENT
THERE IS A defining moment in every boxer’s career. A moment when he faces a choice, both mentally and physically, about the direction in which his career is going to travel. Thomas Hearns’s moment arrived on the steamy summer night of 18 August 1980. His actions would change his life and the boxing landscape for ever.
For a fleeting moment, the 11,500 crowd in Detroit’s Joe Louis Arena were silenced as the lights dimmed and shrouded the arena in darkness. From what seemed a distance, the thudding bass of Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger” began to rise up, shaking the foundations and reigniting the carnival atmosphere that had infected the night air. Standing in the dark entrance to this gladiatorial bearpit, Thomas Hearns made his decision.
The spotlight searched and then bathed him in its glare. When the Detroit fans saw their idol, the decibel level rose to a crescendo as Hearns, wearing an all-white ensemble of shorts, shoes and dressing gown, quietly mouthed the words he had insisted be stitched into the back of his gown: “Let’s Get It On.” He looked ready to go. At the first sight of their man, the spectators erupted and, as he danced and shadowboxed his way towards the ring, the waves of emotion reached a stifling intensity. Lindy Lindell, a local boxing historian who was at the ringside, described the atmosphere as “a cauldron of undiluted throbbing noise. The noise shook the arena to its very foundations.”
Waiting for him, like a hawk watching its prey move into range, was the impassive welterweight champion of the world: Jose “Pipino” Cuevas. The Mexican, wearing a simple green dressing gown, was a son of a butcher and assumed the same detached, clinical – and brutal – manner to his work as his father. He had made his way towards his workplace with a minimum of fuss or ceremony. He, too, appeared eager to dispense with the hype and keen to get down to business.
Indeed both fighters looked irritated by the extended formalities conducted by an immaculately-dressed Master of Ceremonies, Jimmy Lennon, Senior, who theatrically announced the contest between the Hit Man and the Butcher. Lennon summarised both fighters’ backgrounds and pedigrees in some detail. Cuevas was twenty-three years old, Hearns two years his junior. Both men had enjoyed long winning streaks. The champion had lost only once in his last twenty-one fights and had held the world crown for over four years. A thunderous puncher, he had made eleven successful defences and just one of those fights had gone the full distance. Hearns had the perfect record of twenty-eight straight victories, with twenty-six opponents failing to hear the final bell. No-one expected this bout to go the distance.
When the referee, South Africa’s Stanley Christodoulou, called the two men to the centre of the ring to issue his final instructions, they both strained at the leash. Hearns glared straight through Cuevas, who studiously ignored him and chose to study the canvas instead. By the time they momentarily retreated back to their corners to await the clang of the bell, there was a palpable buzz of excitement all around the arena.