ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I had wanted to tell my real story for many years, but something always got in the way. Mostly, it was me. Before I could place my life in any kind of perspective, I needed to understand it myself, to better determine why I made the decisions I did, in and out of the ring, and to figure out what those choices said about who I was, and who I wanted to be. In the spring of 2008, liberated from the dangerous spell that alcohol and drugs had cast over me, my ideas and feelings became more focused, more authentic. It was time, at last, to embark on this most exciting journey.

I knew it would not be easy, that it would open up wounds I had preferred to bury, forever if possible. But I also knew I would never get on with the future if I didn’t. The past was ugly. The past was filled with one lie after another. The past made me harbor deep shame and regret for all the people I hurt. Yet the past was mine, and it was my responsibility to claim it more fully as my own, whatever the consequences.

Once the memories flooded in, and they were hard to stop, I became humbled by the amount of family members and friends who’ve meant so much to me over the years. The list must begin, of course, with my mother and father, who allowed me the freedom to pursue my dream of capturing the Olympic gold medal. Even when the task appeared overwhelming, they did not back off in their belief in me for an instant. I never told them just how much I relied on their faith. Somehow I think they always knew. The same goes for my brothers and sisters. They were always in my corner.

Speaking of my corner, I was blessed with three dedicated men who conditioned me to win—Pepe Correa, Dave Jacobs, and Janks Morton. They put in hour after hour at the gym to help me became a champion. I’m very grateful, as well, for my relationship with Angelo Dundee, whose invaluable words in the corner during the first Hearns fight—“you’re blowing it, son”—gave me a defining moment in boxing history. It was a fight I could have easily lost.

When I reflect on my fighting days, I owe a special gratitude to the proud men I fought, who were trying to earn a living just as I was, and to the trainers and managers who prepared them for battle. We were all in it together, even if we were trying to beat one another’s brains in. I have run into quite a few of them since I retired, and after we share memories of our youth, we always walk off as friends and that means the world to me. Some of the men I fought have not been as lucky, the sport taking its toll on them as it always does. I pray their remaining days be as comfortable as possible.

As for comfort, I will be forever indebted to my good friend and attorney, Mike Trainer, a man who, at times, wore a lot of hats. Because of Mike, I didn’t wind up like so many in my profession. He always put my interests first, and that’s rare in boxing. His wife, Jill, was a saint, sparing him when I needed him, which was quite often. Assisting Mike was the amazing Caren Kinder, who was priceless during my career and is now a member of my family along with her husband, Larry.

The boys—Juice, Joe Broddie, Ollie Dunlap, James Anderson, Bobby Stuart, Darrell Foster, etc.—were always there for me as well. I was not the easiest person to be around, especially in the weeks before a fight, but they understood. People who also became such an integral part of my life and career include: Johnny Gill, Donnie Simpson, Eddie Murphy, Lyndie and Kenny G, Michael King, Jeff Wald, Bob Lange, Stephanie Rosenberg, Craig Jones, Ross Greenburg, Jimmy (Ringo) Ryan, Charlie Brotman, Kenny Chevalier, Howard Cosell, Don Gold, Don Glab, Bobby Magruder, Emanuel Steward, Tommy Hearns, and the orginal sponsors of Sugar Ray Leonard, Inc.

A special thanks to Martha Robi, my incredible mother-in-law. She never judged me when I dealt with my demons. She only consoled me. I’ve very grateful as well to Annette Beale, who is my new Caren Kinder.

Patience was also a virtue with my first wife, Juanita. She gave me more chances than I deserved. I owe a lot to my children, Ray Jr., Jarrel, Camille, and Daniel, who have each showed me how to love and receive love in ways that have enriched my life beyond anything I accomplished as a fighter. I’m so proud of them.

Nobody, though, has been more loving and kind than my wife, Bernadette. She rescued me when I was completely lost. To have her in my life every day, a beacon of strength and warmth, is a blessing I can’t put into words.

Writing a book is no different from preparing for a title fight: It requires a high-quality team and I was fortunate to have the very best: president Clare Ferraro, editorial director Wendy Wolf, production editor Noirin Lucas, and publicists Shannon Twomey and Carolyn Coleburn. I can’t say enough, as well, about Maggie Riggs, who kept each train on time despite the inevitable pitfalls. Leading the way was Viking’s senior editor Joshua Kendall, whose passion for the project was a source of constant inspiration from day one. His vision can be found throughout these pages.

My assistant, Katie Diest, was indispensable, helping out with the research and reaching the people who added key details to the narrative. I don’t know what I would have done without her.

Special thanks to my former agent, Lon Rosen, who gave me the final push that I needed, and to Jay Mandel of William Morris–Endeavor, who guided us to the finish line.

Finally, I want to express my appreciation to co-writer Michael Arkush, and his wife, Pauletta Walsh, who enthusiastically supported the project from the beginning. Michael met with me on a regular basis from the spring of 2009 through the fall of 2010. We also made trips to Maryland, New York, and Las Vegas. From our initial meeting, he pushed me to reveal my emotions when I did not want to go there, especially when I did not want to go there. Michael is a true friend.

 

Ray Leonard
January 2011