I was in Atlantic City with some friends who were fighting on a PKA (Professional Karate Association) kickboxing card. We had some downtime before the matches, so we wandered through the casinos.
At one point, we passed a conference room with a simple sign out front that read:
Thomas Hearns
That was it. No explanation. Just his name.
Naturally, we peeked inside. Sitting in the middle of the room was a full boxing ring—empty for the moment. Someone walked by and told us there would be a training session starting shortly and that we were welcome to watch.
We needed confirmation. One of my friends asked,
“Is this for Tommy ‘Hit Man’ Hearns?”
The guy replied,
“Yeah. He’s fighting in a couple of days.”
That was all we needed to hear. We grabbed seats right up front, next to the ring.
Only a handful of people ended up showing up to watch. It wasn’t crowded or staged—just a quiet room with a few spectators. That made it feel like a real privilege: watching an elite, world-class champion of his caliber train just a few feet away from us.
A few minutes later, fighters from Kronk Gym started filing in and warming up. Each one had a different rhythm and style—shadowboxing, footwork, movement. It was incredible watching an elite pool of fighters go through their paces up close.
Then Thomas Hearns walked into the room with his trainer, Emanuel Steward.
We were in awe. The speed. The power. The precision. I remember all of us thinking the same thing: “And Sugar Ray Leonard was somehow even better than this?”
Side note—Sugar Ray Leonard was a hometown hero to us. We grew up in Maryland and followed his career from the Montreal Olympics all the way through his professional run.
Hearns trained for about an hour, then generously stayed to sign autographs. One of my friends dared me to ask him to write:
“To John, my friend from Palmer Park, MD.”
Palmer Park was where Sugar Ray Leonard grew up and still lived at the time.
Normally, I’d take a dumb-but-funny dare like that without hesitation. But after watching Hearns train and spar up close—seeing that kind of greatness just a few feet away?
I chose respect over the dare.
Here’s the photo Mr. Hearns signed for me—one of my favorite collecting memories.
