Life’s Work: An Interview with Sugar Ray Leonard

During his 20-year career as a professional boxer, Sugar Ray Leonard won world titles in five weight classes, became the first in his sport to earn more than $100 million in prize money, and helped fuel fans’ interest in boxing following Muhammad Ali’s retirement. Today Leonard calls fights for the streaming sports service DAZN and raises money for pediatric diabetes research. Courtesy State Archives of Florida Leonard while in training for his 1989 fight with Tommy Hearns HBR: You had a difficult childhood: You lived in a violent neighborhood and saw a lot of conflict at home. Was that a useful upbringing for a boxer? Leonard: Boxing is a poor man’s sport. It’s a sport that demands your outright respect. Most people look at boxing or any contact sport and say, “Wow, I couldn’t do that,” because they don’t possess the thing inside of us that makes us go through pain. It takes something to activate that. That’s what separates fighters from other people. How did you come to bypass boxers’ traditional reliance on promoters to arrange fights and instead do deals that gave you a bigger piece of revenues? I’d seen so many horrible scenarios—situations where legendary fighters were taken advantage of financially. And at the end of their careers they had nothing to show for their work. After I won the Olympic gold medal, I enrolled at the University of Maryland—I didn’t plan to become a professional boxer. That changed because my dad was hospitalized for diabetes. I turned pro to make money to pay the bills. I was introduced to an attorney, and he showed me how to structure my fights in a way that allowed me to control my life and my legacy. Our approach was unprecedented at the time. Among boxers, you were unusually successful as a celebrity endorser. What drove that? I’d like to think it was charisma. Other fighters said I was “white collar” because I was doing endorsements and other things outside the ring. That bothered me. I never discussed it, but in a strange way it made me a better fighter. It was about composure, and not letting people get inside my head. Your career was marked by repeated retirements and comebacks. Why so much indecision? I like to say I was the champion of retirements. When I first retired, at 26, people told me how happy I should be—I had money and fame. But at that point it wasn’t about money or fame—it was about legacy. Coming back was about fighting other guys, particularly Marvelous Marvin Hagler. Around that time I also made a new friend named cocaine. As an alcoholic and an addict, I always felt safe inside the ring, because I controlled things there. That drove me to keep fighting. Do you regret the later comebacks, which kept you in the ring until age 40? I regret the ones I lost: Héctor Camacho, Terry Norris, the second fight with Tommy Hearns (which I won on the scorecard, but which he really won as far as I’m concerned). Looking back, I do have regrets, but I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I hadn’t gone through it. How much did fear of injury play into your career decisions? There’s a push and a pull. As champions, we feel invincible pretty much until we hit 50. I never thought about getting injured. My family, my friends, my fans—they told me their concerns about my getting back in the ring against guys like Hagler. I had an eye injury, but each time I’d ask my ophthalmologist, and he’d say my chances of reinjuring the eye were very remote. There is a certain fear, but it’s outweighed by the desire to be number one. Especially now, retired and at age 63, I say, “Wow, that was risky.” But you take risks. For people who’ve never seen you fight, which bout is most worth going back to watch? The 1981 fight against Tommy Hearns at Caesar’s Palace, for the unification of the welterweight crown. That fight exemplifies determination, intestinal fortitude, and heart against one of the greatest fighters ever. I remember talking to Muhammad Ali about his third fight against Joe Frazier. He said, “Ray, I was close to death during that fight.” I looked at him like he was crazy, but that’s the same feeling I experienced against Tommy Hearns. I was losing after 12 rounds, and it took so much—mentally, spiritually, psychologically—to come back. Why is televised boxing in decline? When I was coming up as an amateur, my fights were on free network television. People got a chance to know me and other young boxers. Fans became fans because they followed our careers. That doesn’t happen anymore. Young fighters are rushed along, and they may not have pay-per-view potential. But there’s so much talent out there. I’m an announcer for DAZN, and I love it because I get to meet and watch all the young boxers. I still love being around boxing.

Life’s Work: An Interview with Sugar Ray Leonard

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