Commentary : Is the Sugar Ray Leonard-Thomas Hearns Fight Really a War?

Under attack as brutal and vulturous, the timeless sport of boxing, as Bill Brubaker’s comprehensive articles illustrated, is on the defensive. Its base of support is shrinking. Even its most dedicated loyalists recognize this. Conceding the need to expand boxing’s audience, promoter Bob Arum trumpeted his intention “to introduce our sport to the elegant lady in Dubuque, Iowa.”

To that end Arum has come up with an interesting marketing strategy: He has billed the Ray Leonard-Thomas Hearns fight as “The War.”

Maybe Arum has inside information we don’t. Maybe elegant ladies in Dubuque carry AK-47s under their skirts, and their idea of fun is to pop somebody in the chops with a two-by-four. Like Washington sportscaster Glenn Brenner, I think it may have been wiser to promote the fight as “An Evening With Laura Ashley.” But what do we know? Arum went to Harvard Law School. We didn’t.

Anyway, Arum cooked up the concept, then left the execution to Washington’s sports PR man extraordinaire, Charlie Brotman. After serenading the press with enough military marches to drive John Philip Sousa screaming from the room, Brotman came on stage wearing an ersatz military uniform (“He must’ve borrowed it from the valet,” said Leonard’s attorney, Mike Trainer, “I guarantee you he doesn’t have to have it back in an hour”) and a silver helmet that looked like a soup tureen on his head. A District of Columbia National Guard team presented the colors, and Brotman intoned, “Welcome to the war zone. It’s official. It is a war.” To underline the motif, Brotman welcomed a man “who is no stranger to war -- that’s exactly why we invited him,” and introduced former Marine Corps commandant, Gen. P.X. Kelly.

Here’s where it crossed the line from tacky-but-tolerable. Here’s Kelly, a man who sent soldiers into real war, stared into its real horror, and he’s barking on, “Let me promise you the Strategic Air Command’s on full alert. The Marine Corps is ready to conduct a massive amphibious assault. When we say war, we really mean war ... Make no mistake, this is war. Draw your helmets and flak jackets. You want war? We’ll give you war.”

Later, Kelly would laugh and say, “Oh no, this isn’t real war. This is just a promotional gimmick.” (The U.S. Senators from Nevada, Harry Reid and Richard Bryan, who stood to “ratify and confirm this war” at Arum’s request, would say the same thing: that it was strictly promotional, a gimmick, an economic boon to Nevada.) But winking off camera doesn’t mitigate your performance on camera. All the elegant ladies in Dubuque see when they watch the tape of that press conference is the confusing sight of a former Marine Corps commandant and two U.S. Senators pretending boxing is war.

Boxing has used the metaphor of war before; the Gerry Cooney-Michael Spinks “War At The Shore,” for example. But it was never stretched out as tastelessly or shamefully as this. Boxing isn’t war. By participating in this dog and pony show, Kelly, however well-intentioned, trivialized his soldierly profession; Bryan and Reid, who may be accustomed to such excessiveness in Las Vegas, appeared foolish, carrying a bad joke too far.

Arum’s approach to Leonard-Hearns II has turned a new corner in boxing promotion-onto wrestling’s side of the street. Wrestling hawks itself as global morality plays, wraps itself in glitter and exaggeration, and tweaks the funny bone. In court cases, though, wrestling admits it’s merely a show, following a script.

Boxing is entertainment; all sport is. But at its core boxing is an honest, elemental competition between men. Boxing has honor. Wrestling has fake blood, Halloween masks and tearaway T-shirts.

It was insulting to Leonard and Hearns to have them solemnly march on stage carrying helmets and theatrically stare at each other. (First of all, Leonard wasn’t dressed like a soldier. He was wearing an atomic plum sportsjacket that made him look like part of the trombone section at a Carribbean bar-mitzvah. Second of all, it was difficult for him to keep from laughing.) We’ve learned to expect hype at fight promotions, but these are men of character, history and substance. They deserve more noble treatment.

You can make fun of this fight. Heaven knows, I have. Hearns has been put on his fanny two fights in a row now, which makes him “The Sit Man,” not “The Hit Man.” Knowing that he dare not get into the ring with anyone young, fast or talented, Leonard has picked Hearns for the first bout in his Grand Masters of Boxing Series (which will undoubtedly air on PBS, introduced by Stormin’ Norman Mailer). From there, Leonard can go through Hagler and Duran, then fight Jake LaMotta for the vacant WBM antelope weight title.

The subliminal acknowledgement of the doubts about this fight show up when Trainer constantly refers to Leonard and Hearns as “these young men,” and Arum covers his product in metaphor. There has been and will be a deliberate attempt to persuade the public that while Leonard-Hearns I may have occured eight years ago, Ray and Tommy were teenagers at the time. Yet in a moment of rare candor, Hearns analyzed himself and Leonard, and allowed, “He’s slipping. He’s losing something as well as I am. We’ve both aged.”