WHAT WOULD HAGLER DO?

A tribute to Marvelous Marvin

I became a die-hard Hagler fan more than a decade after he climbed through the ropes for the last time – and when I’d finished boxing myself.

In my twenties, I would train with a friend in his garage. We’d do a circuit, with bodyweight exercises and bagwork, some rounds on a treadmill and a few rounds of body sparring. As we trained, we’d play classic fights on an old box television.

There was one fighter who always stood out for me. Hagler was relentless in the ring. He was more a force of nature than a human being: a two-fisted attack that never let up, a southpaw with a right jab that could sprawl an opponent on the canvas.

We must have watched the super fight with Sugar Ray Leonard dozens of times, and I always had Hagler winning. Leonard’s flashy flurries impressed the judges but didn’t put a dent in Hagler’s stride. He kept walking forward with murderous intent. How can you take a title from a champ who puts on more hurt and never takes a backward step?

We had some hard training sessions in that garage: you couldn’t justify slowing down the treadmill because you were puffed-out, when you were watching Hagler working like a demon for a twelve-round war.

Later, I read Four Kings: Leonard, Hagler, Hearns, Duran and the Last Great Era of Boxing, and my admiration for Hagler only deepened. I learnt about his tough upbringing and his hard road to the middleweight title. He didn’t get a shot until his fiftieth fight. There, he was robbed with a controversial draw. Next chance, against Alan Minter, he took the decision out of the judges’ hands and won inside three rounds.

What should’ve been his moment in the sun was blighted by a rioting British crowd. Instead of leaving the ring with the belt on his shoulder, Hagler was escorted out by policemen, under a barrage of beer cans and abuse. He never did earn the same respect as Sugar Ray Leonard. He had to legally change his name to ensure the ring announcers would call him Marvelous Marvin Hagler.

As someone who struggles with focus – I’ve sat down to “finish” this piece a dozen times now – I was also in awe of Hagler’s single-minded determination. He held training camps at a deserted summer resort at Cape Cod, where he spent every moment training or thinking of the coming battle. “I put myself in jail,” he said. “There’s nothing but concentration. It’s a beautiful spot to train: fresh air, beautiful scenery, and I got my sand dunes to run.”

For seven years, he reigned as middleweight champ, taking the toughest fights the division could serve up. He tackled John “The Beast” Mugabi in a brutal encounter that showed, while his reflexes and speed had slowed, his warrior spirit was undimmed. Mugabi’s run of 25 knockouts came to an abrupt end when Hagler stopped him in the 11th round. The story goes that watching that fight ringside, “retired” Sugar Ray decided he could take the now-diminished champ.

When Hagler “lost” to Leonard, he walked away from boxing. And I liked that too. He didn’t need to chase more glory. It wasn’t his place to atone for mistakes the judges had made. He had given all he had, and we were lucky to witness it.

In the last year or so, Hagler became something of a role model amongst a few training mates. When we’re weighing up another round of pad work, or considering whether to call off a session because of a light drizzle, we ask each other, “What would Hagler do?” It’s always rhetorical. The question answers itself, and we push ourselves a little more.

When a friend texted, “RIP Marvin Hagler”, it was a bit of a gut punch. He was indestructible in the ring. Dead at 66-years-old seemed too young. Of course, it’s not really the death that matters – it’s how he lived his life.

Hagler leaves a powerful example behind for anyone looking to reach an important goal, in the way that he trained and fought. Believe in yourself, never give up, and work hard; work harder than you thought was humanly possible (and then work a little bit harder).

Long may he be remembered and celebrated.

WWHD