When I was 15 or 16 and I started climbing up the ladder of success in amateur boxing, a reporter asked me, "What do you want to be?" I think he was expecting me to say, "A champion." I said, "I want to be special." I don't know why I said that, but I didn't just want to be a fighter. I wanted to have an impact with people, particularly kids.

My intention was to fight Durán ASAP because I knew Durán's habits. I knew he would indulge himself, he'd gain 40–50 lbs and then sweat it off to make 147.

In Italy, I had an Afro, and a lot of the kids came up and felt my hair. It really was funny. I wish I had understood Italian.

Except for Ali, fighters had never been marketable.

Boxing was not something I truly enjoyed. Like a lot of things in life, when you put the gloves on, it's better to give than to receive.

It was a whole different world, and Montreal was an absolutely beautiful setting unlike anywhere I'd ever been before. So, Montreal in '76 was an encompassing experience I will cherish for the rest of my life.

Someone once said there was a comparison between Sugar Ray Leonard and Sugar Ray Robinson. Believe me, there's no comparison. Sugar Ray Robinson was the greatest.