Hagler vs. Leonard: The Pre-Fight Hype Has Already Started : We Should Ask Ourselves: Is this Fight Absolutely Necessary?

It’s time to stop moaning. Ray Leonard and Marvin Hagler are going to duke it out--sometime, somewhere--and nothing we can do will stop it.

We can rage at this extravaganza all we please--call it a sham or denounce it as a Made-for-Closed Circuit Tragedy--but it will not go away.

Four months ago, the Sugar Man asked the Marvelous One to save the last dance for him. Everything since--all the talk about Hagler wanting to retire and the endless haggling that is about to transpire over how to cut up the $15 million to $20 million pie--is all pro forma.

These guys have had their eyes on each other for five years and they’re just not going to retire to their hammocks and color commentary until they’ve whaled the bejabbers out of each other.

Part of the reason is the money. Not so much the spending of it. They are both rich. It’s more the sound of that phrase “perhaps the biggest purse in history.” Part of the reason is fame. Not name or face recognition. They have that. But the idea that, for one night, for one hour, they could just about bring the Western world to a halt. In the presence of such cash and credit, ratiocination fails. Also, professional and personal curiosity are in play here. A trackman may be measured by the clock, but a fighter finds his own greatness within his foe.

Finally, however, this fight is about ego. Leonard, never known for modesty, says he wants to beat Hagler “for history.” And Hagler has legally changed his name to Marvelous.

Before we accept the inevitability of Hagler-Leonard I--you think there won’t be a II?--let’s emit one last short scream. Just to feel better.

This may be one of the most mismatched fights in history. It also could be a sad demonstration of excess pride if Leonard, who’s already had surgery for a detached retina, gets hurt.

By the time these guys get together, Leonard will have had one fight--a lousy one in which he got knocked on his satin pants--in five years. Who says Leonard belongs in the ring with anybody, much less Hagler? Doesn’t Leonard, inactive nearly 2 1/2 years, have to prove he deserves to jump two classes in weight and fight the middleweight champion?

The Leonard of 1981 deserved a shot at big bad Hagler. No matter how good Leonard was in his prime, the Leonard of 1986 hasn’t earned a piece of the Hagler of today. Off Leonard’s last fight, with Kevin Howard in May 1984, he wouldn’t merit a fight with a mediocre middleweight.

If Leonard shows up rusty or timid and says a quick face-down goodnight, is anybody planning to give the public back its $25 million?

Truly disturbing is the question of Leonard’s health. Should this fight be sanctioned? Shouldn’t Leonard have tuneups for his own good?

Enough screaming.

Granting all the miserable possibilities inherent in Hagler vs. Leonard, is there any bona fide reason to be interested in this fight?

Unfortunately, this may turn out to be a much better fight than it deserves to be. By the normal standards we apply to major sports events, this event should not take place. But it will. And we may end up being glad.

Sportswriters have been known to keep souvenirs of historic events that they attended. So far, in 17 years, I have one. It’s a ticket stub that says, “Row 1, Seat 1” for the Sugar Ray Leonard vs. Thomas Hearns fight.

That night, Leonard was almost as much an underdog--at least among the smart-money Vegas types--as he’ll be against Hagler. Hearns’ advantages over Leonard in natural weight, punching power and reach were, respectively: A little, a lot and a great deal. Hagler’s advantages over Leonard in those same basic areas will be: A great deal, a lot and a little. A different mixture, but, conceivably, comparable.

Against Hearns, Leonard’s chance for survival and a decision was, supposedly, to dance and flick, strategize and never exchange punches. Instead, Leonard said “he saw something” and attacked. He won the early rounds clearly and forced Hearns to abandon his lifelong attacking style. To save himself, Hearns danced and jabbed and found his second wind. He also found Leonard’s left eye, closing it completely as he built a large lead in points.

After the 13th round, trainer Angelo Dundee yelled into Leonard’s face, “You’ve got to knock him out.”

So, covered with his own blood, one eye swollen shut, Leonard stalked the bigger, stronger, better armed man. Ray Leonard walked into and through Thomas Hearns that night. He took everything Hearns had to offer to get through his perimeter of jabs and crosses, then, once inside, Leonard tore out Hearns’ heart, chased him from rope to rope, and beat him senseless in that 14th round.

You can hate boxing all you want, but you can’t hate what Leonard did that night. One of the more red-blooded, Hemingwayesque definitions of art is: style in the face of danger. Leonard is a master of that subspecies of art.

It is probable that the Leonard who shows up in 1987 at age 30 will bear little resemblance to the Leonard of 1981. But what if, after a couple of rounds, it’s the old Sugar Ray?

Sure, Hagler demolished Hearns. But it was Leonard who already had destroyed his mystique.

A more interesting case is Roberto Duran. In their second fight, Leonard dismantled Duran in 1980. Once Hagler got around to fighting him three years later, there shouldn’t have been too much left of the Hands of Stone. Yet Hagler could only win a 15-round decision. Hagler couldn’t put away a natural lightweight that night. Will he able to do what no one has ever done--KO Leonard?

If Leonard and Hagler end up having a long, tough, strategic night, who’s to say Leonard--two years younger with only half as many pro fights--won’t have something left?

This is the wishful scenario, but what’s left to us but hoping?