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Herald Exclusive: Marvelous Marvin Hagler’s long climb

Former champ thinks back 40 years to winning the middleweight title

A beer bottle flies though the air and another lies on canvas as American boxer Marvin Hagler kneels on the floor after beating British World Middleweight Boxing Champion on Saturday, Sept. 27, 1980 at the Wembley Arena. Referee Carlos Berrocal Panama stopped the fight. (AP Photo/Bob Bear)
A beer bottle flies though the air and another lies on canvas as American boxer Marvin Hagler kneels on the floor after beating British World Middleweight Boxing Champion on Saturday, Sept. 27, 1980 at the Wembley Arena. Referee Carlos Berrocal Panama stopped the fight. (AP Photo/Bob Bear)
(Boston MA, 06/11/18) Boston Herald Celtics beat writer, Mark R. Murphy on Monday, June 11, 2018.  Staff photo by Matt Stone

The deep cavern of Wembley Arena was erupting sound, mostly with patriotic songs and the ongoing drone of soccer chants, on the night of Sept. 27, 1980.

As George Kimball, the late Herald columnist and boxing writer, described it in his book “Four Kings,” “around the arena the bloodthirsty mob engaged in soccer chants. Many of the spectators had arrived bearing Union Jacks, which they brandished like battle axes. There were even guys dressed in beefeater costumes.”

Members of the oft-violent National Front — so-called skinheads — were in the stands, and bottled beer was being sold by the case at concession stands. Alan Minter, who tried to defend his middleweight title that night against Marvin Hagler, had stirred this hateful broth when he made the following declaration roughly a week before the fight:

“No black man is going to take my title.”

So Minter was a white nationalist. Who knew? Certainly not Hagler, who saw the headline on a newsstand while taking a walk outside his London hotel. He bought the paper, read it, and funneled Minter’s words into his omnipresent rage. Minter died Sept. 9 at age 69.

Hagler always summoned hatred for his opponent. Years of fighting in the wilderness, before finally receiving his due with a title shot in 1979 against Vito Antuofermo, had wired him with disdain for every man in the other corner.

“That didn’t sit well with me, but you gotta stay focused, that’s about it,” Hagler recently said of his reaction to Minter’s words. “People are going to do everything they can to destroy you, to get you angry, to get you mad, and that way you lose your game plan. I stayed focused, didn’t let it bother me.”

Then he laughed.

“My whole career has been like that, even to the end.”

Hagler entered the ring with Goody and Pat Petronelli, Brockton trainers and managers who had weaned him since the age of 15, and the brothers were worried by the scene, and those intoning chants.

The lights were abruptly shut off, with that sound now booming out of the darkness. Goody told Hagler that “they” were trying to “psyche” him out.

“I said ah, Goody, I think this is like disco music — HEY,” said Hagler, who started dancing, as if it really was disco music.

“It was good. It relaxed me a little better, and it seemed to relax Pat and Goody also, because they said YOU don’t seem to be worried, so WE ain’t worried.

“And when the lights went back on and he comes out, now that’s showtime. That’s gold, man.”

Hagler slashed the fair-skinned Minter’s face to bits over the course of his three-round TKO, stopped because of four flowing cuts and the British boxer’s inability to keep blood out of his eyes. Once the result was announced, the projectiles started launching. Hagler’s crew formed a human teepee over him, and that’s how he celebrated winning the undisputed middleweight championship of the world – while shielded from harm by the Petronellis, his brother Robbie Sims, and Danny Snider.

Mostly, the bottles hit spectators. Harry Carpenter, the iconic British announcer calling the fight, was hit by a bottle, and later called it all, “a shame and disgrace to British boxing.”

Hagler and his entourage, including his mother, Mae Lang, was rushed off in a car to the hotel, where it was determined the streets were still too angry to go out and celebrate. A hotel ballroom would have to suffice.

That night, 40 years ago today, started the second-longest reign by a middleweight champion in boxing history, over six years and seven months. Hagler successfully defended his title 12 times — 13 if you share the popular belief that he beat Sugar Ray Leonard.

But before any of this legendary run happened, Marvelous Marvin Hagler had already fought enough to fill another man’s career — 49 times, with a 46-2-1 record, before getting his first title fight. He fought 11 times alone in 1974.

“The way they tried to avoid me only made me that much meaner,” he said.

Heavyweights back a middleweight

Joe Frazier once famously once told a young Hagler, “You have three strikes against you — you’re black, you’re a southpaw, and you’re good.”

Nowhere was Hagler’s brutal slate more in evidence than in Frazier’s hometown. At one stage in his slow climb, Hagler had to fight his way through the city of Philadelphia, stepping into the ring against the Philly-raised and trained quartet of Willie “The Worm” Monroe (three times), Bobby “Boogaloo” Watts (twice) and Eugene “Cyclone” Hart and Benny Briscoe (once each). Hagler avenged initial losses to the first two. And the Briscoe fight, a unanimous decision in August 1978, finally pushed Hagler onto the radar of promoter Bob Arum.

At the time the top of the middleweight division was dominated by South American fighters like Carlos Monzon and Hugo Corro of Argentina, and Colombia’s Rodrigo Valdez. Hagler, and Brockton, couldn’t have been more lost in the promoter’s blind spot.

Arum admits he needed to be prodded, but never imagined the outside pressure that finally came to bear on Hagler’s behalf. He received two letters, one each from Sen. Edward Kennedy and Thomas “Tip” O’Neill, Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives.

Both letters called his attention to Hagler, and asked why the then 25-year-old fighter, after proving his worthiness over a long period of time, had never received a title shot. Both also threatened to bring Arum before Congress, where there would be many questions about the improprieties of boxing.

Were these two powerful politicians serious?

“Who the (bleep) knows?” said Arum.

“I immediately called up Rip Valenti – in those days we did closed-circuit and Rip was my exhibitor in New England – and I said ‘Rip, I’ve got these crazy letters, I don’t want any (bleeping) trouble. See what you can do, and I’ll have a meeting with the Hagler people’,” said Arum. “Rip handled it, and he and the Petronelli brothers came to visit me in my office in New York. I arranged for Marvin to fight an Argentine fighter – Norbert Cabrera. I was doing an event in Monte Carlo, and Antuofermo was fighting Corro for the middleweight title. I said to them that if Marvin beats Cabrera, I’ll have him fight the winner of that fight for the championship.”

Hagler was relieved. The heavy hitters were finally in his corner.

“I heard that story about the letters, and it was the truth, because I was already champion, but they never gave me the opportunity,” he said. “I was glad to see that Tip O’Neill stepped in, and I heard they forced (Arum) to listen, saying this guy deserves a shot at the title, I think they’re going to do something with the boxing, maybe close it down. It wasn’t fair.

“I was the uncrowned champion. That’s what they used to call me.”

Monte Carlo was a far cry from the Cumberland County Civic Center in Portland, Maine, site of Hagler’s last fight – a three-round TKO victory over Jamie Thomas.

Ranier III, the Prince of Monaco, had an arena built in a soccer stadium parking lot, and the locker rooms looked out over the ring. Hagler, on the undercard, took Cabrera apart on his way to a an eight-round TKO. Corro and Antuofermo saw it all.

“So Corro and Antuofermo, while they were warming up for their fight, witnessed Marvin’s destruction of Cabrera,” said Arum, chuckling as he added, “People say that when Antuofermo and Corro fought each other, each of them was happy for the other guy to win. They didn’t want to fight Marvin.”

But this time Hagler couldn’t be dodged. Then again, he didn’t quite move ahead, either. With Tip O’Neill ringside, Hagler fought Antuofermo to a 15-round split draw in Caesar’s Palace on Nov. 30, 1979 – a ruling debated by many, including Arum. When Arum proposed a rematch, British promoter Mickey Duff successfully lobbied instead for Antuofermo – still the champ – to fight Minter.

Minter’s subsequent victory created further tangles. Antuofermo got the rematch, this time with Minter successfully defending his belt in London. Hagler, in the meantime, had fought three times since his draw with Antuofermo, including wins over Boogaloo Watts (TKO) and Loucif Hamani (KO) in Maine, both by the second round, and a 10-round unanimous decision over Marcos Geraldo in Las Vegas.

Arum sighed.

“Poor Marvin, I’m stuck with Marvin doing 10-round fights all around New England.”

Until he had to hop the pond, anyway, where there was a barely concealed secret.

“Minter, we discovered, and his father, were white nationalists — fascist bastards,” said Arum, as revulsed now as he was 40 years ago.

Dolce Vito

Antuofermo knows about cuts. This native of Bari, Italy, was finally forced to retire because of cuts. His punch-dented profile lent itself to gangster films, and post-retirement roles in “Goodfellas,” “The Godfather III” and “The Sopranos.”

But he may have never seen a fighter get cut more quickly than Minter. Hagler opened a gash under Minter’s left eye a minute into the first round, and went to work making it worse, and worse.

“Minter had the same trouble with Marvin I had when I fought (Minter),” said Antuofermo, whose London rematch had to be stopped. “The blood goes into your eyes and you can’t see. That’s what happened to me. I was going into the corner bleeding, and I was coming out of the corner bleeding. The blood was going into my eyes and I couldn’t see. When I fought Minter the second time I was trying more to see than to fight Minter. He was probably having the same trouble.

“Minter was cut pretty bad. Marvin was very dominant. He was good at it. He’s Hagler, you know.”

Indeed, Minter’s last hurrah that night was his elaborate entrance, with over-sized Union Jacks leading the procession and the crowd singing “God Save the Queen.”

Though the punch that opened Minter’s first cut was described by announcer Howard Cosell as “a short, chopping right,” Hagler doesn’t recall.

“Whichever one got him, that’s what it was,” he said. “I didn’t realize how tall he was – much taller than I was, and him being a southpaw too, they always said two southpaws makes a terrible fight. But if you stay close enough, you can’t tell if he’s southpaw or right-handed.”

So Hagler went to work on the cut.

“That’s the monster that comes out in me – that always came out in me when I was in the ring,” he said. “You see blood, even if it’s my blood, that’s war. I worked on the cut, but it wasn’t my goal.

“Just that most of the English people, they cut very easily because of their skin. I think the Irish are the same type of thing. They cut easily. It was no surprise to me, but the main thing was that I had to keep on my attack, and our strategy was working very well. I believe that when I caught him with that good punch and he started bleeding, he went to hold his eye and I attacked him, because he couldn’t see. Those were some good punches there.”

Minter tried to exchange punches in the second and third rounds, which only hastened his decline. Hagler swarmed him in the third, knocking out the Brit’s mouthpiece halfway through. The fight was stopped 30 seconds later, with Minter now trying to protect his mouth.

Cosell found a hiding place under the ring after the first bottles landed and smashed, as Hagler was led to safety, guided by his crew to a pack of British Bobbies, and out into a car that was punched and rocked by the crowd as the entourage rode away. Arum led out the elderly Valenti, recalling, “It rained bottles. You looked at the sky, it was like a rainstorm. I’ve never seen so many (bleeping) bottles.

“We had a car for Marvin with a driver to come to the arena and go back to the hotel, and those (bleeps) broke in the windows of his car. It was scary (bleep), really scary, scary stuff. I went all over with (Muhammad) Ali so I saw some scary stuff then, but this was terrible. I’m pretty well-read and knew about the English fascists during the second world war, but I was shocked that it still existed in 1980.”

In terms of an interactive experience, none got closer to the action than the two Minter fans seated behind Antuofermo, who was on hand with Italian television.

“I was rooting for Hagler, so when Hagler (won) the fight I jumped up,” he said. “So two guys in the back of me tapped me on the shoulder and said in an English accent ‘Who the (bleep) are you rooting for?’ I said for Hagler. They figured I was white, I would be for Minter.”

One of the men began to throw a punch and Antuofermo laid him out, saying pleasantly, “I hit a guy and I walked away.”

A Marvelous life

He now shuttles between his longtime residence in Milan and a stateside home in New England, does some speaking and boxing commentary in Europe, and likes the camera.

“I’m looking for another shot at a movie,” said Hagler, who acted as a U.S. Marine in a pair of Italian action films – “Indio” and “Indio 2,” as well as a 1996 film with Puerto Rican star Giselle Blondet called “Virtual Weapon” – described by critics as a comedy/science-fiction film. He’s worked on location in Italy, Russia and The Philippines.

When Antuofermo was on location in Rome filming “Godfather III,” Hagler visited the set and went out to lunch with his former opponent and the star, Al Pacino. Neither boxer recalls much of what was said – Antuofermo laughs about the fact that Pacino spoke poor Italian, and used him as an interpreter – but they had a routine for the Italian media.

“The reporters would say, ‘So, Antuofermo, what happened to your face? I’m sorry about your face’,” said Hagler. “And he would say ‘why you talking about my face? This guy over there, he’s the one that did this to me’.”

Hagler has no regrets – “I left with all my faculties, heh-heh, that’s what’s most important, and your health. I’ve been blessed in that sense” – and has yet to hear an offer that would entice him to get together with the rest of the so-called Four Kings on a reunion project. As much as Leonard has expressed a desire in the past to reunite himself, Hagler, Roberto Duran and Thomas Hearns in front of a camera, at least one member of the group hasn’t been swayed.

“Well, you know, if they want to pay me…,” said Hagler. “We tried to talk that over at one time, but everybody is trying to make money off of us instead of saying we want to pay you guys. Understand we have to make a living too, even after boxing.”

There’s no disputing the golden age significance of the Four Kings. They all fought each other at least once during Hagler’s reign. But Hagler’s climb to become one of the earliest stars of HBO Boxing was a longer affair.

Sugar Ray Leonard was christened coming out of the 1976 Olympics, Hearns rode to early prominence as the lead fighter out of Detroit’s fabled Kronk Gym, and Duran’s star had ascended in Latin America at a young age.

But when Hagler gave thanks from the canvas on that night 40 years ago, he had already traveled twice the distance of the company he was about to join.

“Whatever it took, that’s what I had to do,” he said. “I think I’m the only fighter in the world that, when I won the title, I wasn’t able to show the world the championship because everyone started throwing bottles and things. I was rushed off when my moment to shine was right there.

“I just thanked God for giving me my gift after all of these years. Climbing this road wasn’t an easy road, but at the end, if you hang in there through trying to beat all of the politics and everything that’s involved in this game, and by me just having the courage to stick it out, God just gave me that gift. And I thanked him, and I continued to thank him, because my road was going to begin again after I became champion.

“But the only way you’re going to get me out of there is if you hit me with that ring post, because I’m not going nowhere. I was ready. All the fights I had toughened me up and got me ready, prepared for anything that came afterwards.”