As Sugar Ray Leonard celebrated winning a gold medal and his newfound stardom at the 1976 Olympics in Montreal, Roberto Durán was home in Panamá, preparing to fight a non-title bout well above the limit for his WBA lightweight title. Durán was in his fourth year as a world champion and widely recognized as one of the sport’s most brutal operators.

That’s why it wasn’t a systemic shock when Durán beat Leonard the first time they met, in June 1980. Everyone knew Leonard was relatively inexperienced and that Durán was incredibly dangerous. When the fight ended up a huge success in front of a substantial Montreal crowd, a rematch was right for all involved.

Leonard specifically wanted a quick rematch, confirming his competitive drive. In fact, Durán had to gut out the victory in their first fight, and though it was a great accomplishment, it was damn close. That part usually gets forgotten. Durán returned to Panamá a bonafide national hero and celebrated as such, and Leonard went immediately back to work. Leonard’s decision to go right back at Durán actually cost him Dave Jacobs, a trainer who’d been with him since the amateurs and wanted Leonard to fight a few tune-ups.

At 72-1, Durán experienced boxing at some of its highest levels already. Set aside the hyperbole about him being an animal, or a beast, or some kind of mindless, brainless warrior who understood nothing but violence, because the Panamanian was more like a mad scientist in the ring. He didn’t like when writers called him a "street fighter" because he knew that suggested he was crude or ruled by aggression, and a paint-by-numbers brawler couldn’t have out-fought Leonard the first time.

That’s why entering camp 30 pounds overweight was Durán’s first huge mistake. He battled the scale for years while forcing his body to make 135 pounds, but he did indeed make the lightweight limit consistently, going 12-0 with 11 KOs in his title defenses over six years. He also apparently developed a few bad habits around weigh-in time.

When Durán essentially skipped over the junior welterweight division and took on Leonard at welterweight the first time, it temporarily eliminated his weight struggle as well as tickled the old-school pundits who had visions of Henry Armstrong and Barney Ross. Durán’s behavior around the first Leonard fight might have been the first sign of his unraveling, however.

Both fighters professed to hate the other, but like much of his outward antics, Leonard’s vitriol was for show. He later claimed to be genuinely confused when Durán and Durán’s wife gave him and his wife the middle finger, for instance. And in retrospect, Durán committed the sin of pushing away Leonard after the fight, when opponents typically wipe the slate clean and embrace. Leonard later said that cut right through him.

Durán ultimately spent too much of his training camp making weight, struggled at the weigh-in anyway and then gorged himself afterward. For his part, Leonard comfortably made the weight because he arrived in camp already in shape and had Angelo Dundee join camp earlier than usual so they could strategize. At the press conferences in the weeks before the rematch, Leonard, the slight favorite, wore a fake beard and mocked Durán’s accent. He hated Durán for real this time, he told reporters. Easily making weight was like drawing first blood.

The Superdome in New Orleans was supposed to be full, or at least near-full at about 75,000, on the heels of the first fight’s popularity. Instead only about 25,000 spectators showed up. Even so, Leonard scored another potent blow as he grinned through a rendition of "America the Beautiful" by Ray Charles, the man after whom he was named.

Only a few months had passed since the first fight, but things had changed Nov. 25, 1980.

“This time, instead of leaving a wake-up call for Round 5, as [Leonard] had in the first fight, he immediately moved out to the middle of the ring and landed the first punch, a left that caught Duran,” wrote The Ring’s editor Bert Sugar. “After a brief moment when both tried out tentative left jabs, Duran put on one of his patented bullrushes, but Leonard, instead of standing in harm’s way and taking stick, moved quickly backwards, out of reach.”

Leonard circled when Durán tried to push the fight, even stunning Durán briefly in Round 2. Then Leonard began to awaken his own ghosts. He wound up punches like Kid Gavilán and Kid Chocolate and popped his jab on the move like his idol Muhammad Ali. Durán had to scrape and tear for minimal success in Round 3.

If Leonard had simply ran or retreated, then Durán could easily convince himself that he was winning rounds. But Leonard continually beat him to the punch, kept him on the end of his jab and caught Durán coming in. Durán strongarmed Leonard to the ropes a few times in Rounds 5 and 6, and got the worst of it as often as not.

Round 7 paved the way for the end as halfway through, Leonard began sticking his chin out at Durán and bobbing his head back and forth. It was a hollow gesture at first, and Leonard upped the ante when he threw in an "Ali Shuffle." When Durán got him to the ropes, Leonard out-brawled him and connected with several dizzying shots. Durán could only wave his glove at Leonard dismissively when the bell rang.

A hard jab stuck in Durán’s chest in Round 8. Then Leonard moved upstairs with his jab and made sure his movement had Durán reaching. Duran got close enough to land a few cuffing shots, but it’s just that Leonard was ready and caught him first and last. Leonard led Durán around the ring, landed a few more long-range shots before pushing his head down in the clinch. When the fight resumed, Durán infamously did what so few expected him to ever do: he derisively waved his gloves and turned away, clearly quitting.

Different excuses flowed like wine and Durán promptly retired in his dressing room. Writers analyzed the history of "machismo" in Latino culture on the heels of the great Durán inexplicably quitting in a winnable fight. Worse, the phrase "No más," which Durán since claimed to have never said, entered the American lexicon and stuck to him for decades. His career spiraled over the next few years, which was the fall before the redemption.

The overall culture of ending fights early rather than late is ever-evolving, but quitting still isn’t exactly acceptable in boxing. Sometimes a fighter quits and a serious injury is later discovered, and there’s no way to know in real time. Durán’s gesture could have opened a nuanced discussion about when it’s acceptable to quit, and instead it quickly became cruel mockery.

Apart from anything Durán did to himself, quitting robbed Leonard of his victory. Leonard entered the fight with a better plan, executed the plan and frustrated one of the best fighters in the world to the point of giving up. He taunted the monster and lived. That should have been the story.