Hopkins Never Is Shy About Discussing Past

Demons. Always, there are demons for Bernard Hopkins to fight.

At 40, he has survived them all, from the rough streets of Philadelphia to the terrifying confines of Pennsylvania’s Graterford State Prison, in his battles in the ring and his battles with all those who surround the ring -- promoters, television executives, the media.

On this particular day, in his expansive suite in an exclusive Pasadena hotel, several days before the 20th defense of his middleweight title -- against Howard Eastman on Saturday at Staples Center -- the only demons on Hopkins’ mind are undetectable ones: germs.

In an effort to stave off a cold virus, a flu bug or any other floating menace to his finely tuned body, he has turned the heat up full on a cool day, and fortified his chest with an undergarment that covers him up to his neck.

With an interviewer seated next to him, Hopkins is doing what he does best, other than fight. He is talking -- about everything from his criminal past to his love of all things Philly to his longevity in the ring. To call this exercise an interview is stretching the point. The questioner is lucky to get in a few words when Hopkins pauses for breath. Somehow, though, everything falls into place.

Question: You started boxing in a gym at 7, usually a good way to stay off the streets and out of trouble. Instead, you became a street thug on the road to prison. What caused you to take that wrong turn?

Answer: You come up in the neighborhood, you got what you call the older cats, They are the guys running illegal street numbers, selling coke, prostituting women. Those are the guys you look up to more than your parents.

I was always a guy who could fight. At 13, 14, 15, I used to beat up guys three, four years older than me. I’d be on the avenue, I’d see a guy and I’d say, ‘Yo, you got some money?’ I knew he did. Or he has some jewelry. And we’d get into a fight and I’d get the money or the jewelry.

The older guys used to come to me to go after other guys. I was like the neighborhood hero. People seen me coming, they tucked in their change and left. In the neighborhood, you are either the lamb or the wolf. You couldn’t be both.

Q: Did you ever get involved in crimes other than robbery, which is what landed you in prison?

A: Just beating people up. Never been involved in any shootings. Been stabbed two different times, one by the heart and one in the back. There were other times you can’t really count because they didn’t really get me. Just a little scratch.

Q: Was it the experience of being in prison that turned your life around?

A: Prison didn’t do it at first. I had TV -- ESPN and HBO -- a cot, a job, allowed a visitor once a week, and had the use of a gym. The first year in there was about gaining respect.

You wanted to find the baddest guy on your prison block and get respect from him. Guys who had murder raps, guys who were in there for life were respecting me.

I had no problems because they knew I could fight. I saved other inmates who came to me for help. When I got on the prison boxing team, I was the champion for four years. Nobody wanted to fight me.

But after a while, I looked around. I saw the law [library] empty and the basketball court and gym full. I saw guys serving life sentences not thinking about going home, just happy and content. I wasn’t comfortable with that. I didn’t have an institutionalized frame of mind.

They took my name away and gave me a number: Y4145. That was my name. That was 18 years ago, but I’ll never forget it. I know Y4145 better than I know my Social Security number.

I didn’t want that. I got tired of it. People die while you’re in there -- I lost my brother -- and you can’t do nothing about it.

People want to know why they can’t beat me in the ring? I don’t think I’m that talented, but I’m well-disciplined. I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I don’t eat bad foods. I stay in condition. A lot of that came from prison, where I made a choice to be extremely disciplined so I could get out.

I could have taken other avenues in there. I seen people shoot dope, seen people snort coke, seen people make their own jailhouse wine. They’d find a way. You’d be surprised how creative you can be in an institution. The discipline I learned in avoiding that made this life I now have.

Looking back at what I put myself through from age 17 to 22, any hard struggle I have now in the ring, any hard punch I take, any adversity outside the ring with promoters, any time I don’t get an opportunity for a big fight, any time I am not getting respect, none of it compares to those years in prison.

When I have struggles now, I reflect on the fact that nobody expected me to succeed anyway. So I already won.

Q: When you were released, did prison officials express doubt you could succeed?

A: I was 22 years old when I was released, still room for mistakes in life. I had been in trouble over 30 times, including the juvenile system. I had an eighth-grade education and I was looking at 8 1/2 years of parole. I told them I wasn’t coming back and they said, “Wish you well, Y4145.”

I said to myself, “Whatever I have to do to survive that’s legal, I’m not going back.”

I worked as a dishwasher and then I worked for a roofing company. But I knew I was going to make my living as a fighter. I didn’t have any choice. I was a bad thief.

Looking back, I have accomplished so much.

I proved you can make it if you want to. When I speak to kids in class about my story, they listen. The teachers are amazed. They tell me, “They’ve never been this quiet before. They chased Santa Claus out of here.”

Q: Which other athletes do you admire?

A: If I was in a foxhole, the guys I’d want with me are A.I. [Allen Iverson of the Philadelphia 76ers] and T.O. [Terrell Owens of the Philadelphia Eagles].

Q: Except for a loss in your pro debut to Clinton Mitchell in 1988, your only defeat was in 1993 to Roy Jones. Was that your toughest fight?

A: Roy was a learning process for me. The fight wasn’t tough for either one of us. Roy just won.

Q: So many fighters, at the end of their careers, become old overnight. How do you know that is not going to happen to you?

A: I don’t know that. I have no control over that clock. Do I feel or look the same as I did when I was 25? Absolutely not. But with age comes wisdom. When people keep reminding me that I’m old, if I start thinking about it, that’s when I will become old.

Here you got a 40-year-old who has been undefeated for 12 years, making his 20th title defense, dodging Father Time. I think it’s only fair to say that Bernard Hopkins is a special athlete who only comes around once in a great while.

Of course if I win Saturday night, they’ll say, “Bernard, you are a young 40.” I can’t win.