COMMENTARY : Act of Courage Didn’t Involve a Single Punch

For his greatest triumphs in the ring--the memorable 1979 conquest of Wilfred Benitez, the 1980s victories over Thomas Hearns and Marvelous Marvin Hagler--Sugar Ray Leonard will be remembered for one attribute more than any other.

Courage under fire.

He showed it in abundance in his 14-year pro boxing career, and he showed it again Saturday in Washington, D.C., under the most difficult of circumstances, when he admitted he had used cocaine.

Leonard’s most memorable achievement was probably his upset of Hagler. His courage that night of April 6, 1987, outdoors at Caesars Palace, was spectacular.

Leonard, who had had only one, nondescript fight in the previous 61 months, was a 5-1 underdog. When they rang the bell, Hagler, as always, was ferocious, relentless, overwhelming. In the fifth round that night, Hagler hit Leonard flush on the chin with a tremendous right uppercut. Leonard’s knees wobbled. His whole body seemed to sag. For a second or so, it seemed he would go down.

But he didn’t. His courage kept him on his feet. He weathered that storm, and several others that night. Each time, uncommon bravery in combat bore him through the storms. Leonard could have packed it in at any of a half-dozen points that night, probably figuring he would get another chance in a rematch.

And they would have cheered him afterward anyway.

But he didn’t pack it in. He willed himself through every crisis. And he not only took Hagler to the last bell, he won a close decision.

So courage is this man’s trademark. In his major fights, when courage became a factor, he won. In fact, his courage remained intact longer than his boxing skills. In February in New York, his courage could do nothing more than keep him on his feet through the final rounds of his last fight, when Terry Norris beat him badly.

But Saturday in Washington, Leonard, six weeks after announcing his retirement at 34, gave us one more show of bravery.

This time, his opponent was his heartbreak, tears and a cracking voice, not Hagler’s fists. He bared long-hidden parts of his personal life.

He was responding to a Times story Saturday, in which it was disclosed that his former wife, Juanita, in sworn statements during divorce proceedings last summer, had said Leonard had used cocaine during their marriage.

He admitted it Saturday, and he admitted it immediately. He summoned reporters as soon as he had read the story. There were no days-long, closed-door meetings with PR types or lawyers, planning how to “handle” or “salvage” it.

He came clean, did it promptly and maybe the honesty of it all turned out to be a master stroke of public relations after all. Once he spoke, the story was over. No more need for speculation, hearsay, conjecture. The facts spoke for themselves, and he said so. Where others would have denied, pointed fingers at the messenger and threatened lawsuits, Leonard--bravely and intelligently--just ‘fessed up.

But it was difficult, perhaps as difficult as staying on his feet after that Hagler uppercut.

He fought to get the words out: “I stand here ashamed, hurt . . . “

He publicly apologized to his family, and, in effect, to the public. He had appeared in 1989 anti-drug public service announcements, but had remained silent throughout about his own past cocaine use.

The man and his courage.

It was a class act. The video of Saturday’s news conference belongs right up there on the VCR shelf, next to Leonard vs. Benitez, Leonard vs. Hearns, Leonard vs. Hagler.