Not About “No Mas” Anymore: Drath’s Documentary Brings Back Memories of a Fierce Rivalry
Whatever Leonard had to say, I didn’t give a damn.”—Roberto Duran
When I first went to Panama to research Hands of Stone: The Life and Legend of Roberto Duran the thought of talking to Roberto Duran about the intimate details of No Mas was the furthest thing from my mind. In fact, I feared bringing it up. However, as I spoke to the taxis and locals, I quickly realized that the fight represented nothing more than an afterthought in Panama.
In Panama, there was no leftover animosity from his people, or lingering guilt from Duran’s point of view. To him, the moment represented a mere blemish on an extraordinary career. You would never hear a Panamanian going out of his way to talk about the fight or even approach Duran about it. They moved on a long time ago. Still there was enough fascination in the U.S. to garner a fine documentary from director Eric Drath, which debuted last week.
The documentary, No Mas, was a startling reminder that boxing-wise, Sugar Ray Leonard and Roberto Duran was even less of a rivalry than Duran and Esteban De Jesus. In fact, in three meetings, all that came of the rivalry was one great fight—oh, a sideshow, and, later, a no-show (from both fighters). The “sideshow” or the rematch fueled the public’s intrigue, but what exactly was it looking for? Was there a clue to the mystery that had been hidden for so long? Behind the facade lurked a reality that so many refused to accept.
Drath’s documentary did nothing to detract from what was a once frigid, but now warm relationship between the fighters. Whenever one has a chance to revisit the old tensions between the Panamanian hero and the Olympic star, the possibilities are endless. Whether it was the image of the bearded Duran being lifted on the shoulders of his countrymen or Leonard talking about his struggle to return to the ring after the first loss, Drath was able to include all of the necessary ingredients for a refreshing depiction of the startling ebb and flow of both fighters’ careers.
What slowed down a fascinating look into the early lives of these two fighters was, ironically, the storyline itself.
The antiquated storyline that is no longer fresh and mystifying played second fiddle to the vintage footage of Panama, the interviews (with the exception of the disgraceful Panama Lewis), which were effectively interwoven to bring back that glorious time period, and the rare fight scenes. Although referee Octavio Meyran claimed Duran said, No Mas, Duran’s manager Carlos Eleta told me in Panama that Duran really said, “I won’t fight with this clown anymore.” This type of revelation, which was reported in several news outlets, no longer holds the public’s attention. Drath could have researched for years and still struggled to uncover anything new regarding what Duran felt or how Leonard reacted.
Fortunately for Drath, he didn’t need to cling on to any new material—just having Duran, Leonard, and so many valuable players from that period was enough to tell—what is still today—a compelling story.
As much as one can try to force an explanation for No Mas there is nothing left to dig up. Duran wasn’t prepared to fight a world-class fighter, and everyone knows that Leonard was a gym rat. Duran was impulsive in that fight, and Leonard was calculating. Duran thought he was guaranteed a third bout; Leonard embraced the moment, and then moved on. Although the documentary was appropriately titled No Mas, the reality is that the buildup for the first fight perfectly captured the chasm between the two fighters and overshadowed the second half of the documentary.
That chasm resulted from Duran’s insatiable need to prove to the world that he could hang with Leonard on so many levels. He told me, “I didn’t like Leonard because he was the pretty boy for the Americans and I didn’t care less about him.”
In Hands of Stone, I wrote, Duran reviled the kid who grew up with a “golden spoon.” He saw Leonard as the product of a privileged childhood. He knew he lacked Leonard’s telegenic charisma, but he suspected that Leonard lacked the toughness that one can earn only through battle. He considered the American not a man, but a commodity, a glossy figure enhanced by the media. He wanted to expose the counterfeit.
He did, and this is where Drath’s documentary shined. The momentum from leading off with Leonard-Duran I helped pace the first half of the documentary. It would have been impossible for Drath to detail the underlying stories such as Duran’s supposed irregular heartbeat before the fight, or how quickly the Canadians adopted Duran.
I wrote In Hands of Stone, Duran wore a T-shirt that read “Bonjour” to woo the Montreal French, Leonard, who had won his gold medal in Montreal, couldn’t understand the colder reception he received. “That threw me for a loop,” said Leonard. “I thought that I was the adopted son because of the Olympics and the exposure. But man, when I got there, and they were booing me and embraced Duran, it threw me for a loop.”
Unfortunately, it’s nearly impossible to deliver those same personalities decades later and try to make that same tension palpable. In the end when Drath decided to bring both fighters together in an empty ring, sure, it was awkward and rehearsed, especially with Duran speaking Spanish and Leonard looking at him blankly, but that’s not an easy decision to make. You need to get them back together, and, really, any backdrop is going to feel somewhat rehearsed.
If you love boxing, then you just enjoyed going back to the golden age of boxing. Maybe, deep down Duran and Leonard didn’t need any closure or any confirmation of what happened on that night in 1980. Their names will forever be attached, and their legacies secured. They both more than redeemed themselves in so many ways in and outside of the ring. At some point, boxing fans had already written off No Mas as a nothing more than a sidebar to the triumphs of the great Duran. It didn’t define him or virtually strangle Leonard.
Yet, that didn’t make the journey back to that time any less enjoyable.
Christian Giudice is author of Hands of Stone: The Life and Legend of Roberto Duran andBeloved Warrior: The Rise and Fall of Alexis Arguello. He can be reached at christiangiudice@hotmail.com.