01/15/04’s illustrious band:

Gimme Some Sugar

Brought to you by boxing legend Sugar Ray Leonard.

8:10 a.m. Driving to work on Wednesday, I hear a radio ad announcing that Sugar Ray Leonard will be at the Mall of America that night to sign autographs and promote a local boxing match. I think of how my martial arts/boxing instructor admires the greats of the sport, and of how much he enjoyed the Jack LaLanne autograph I got him. I consider attending the event to get him a Leonard signature.

4:30 p.m. I decide to go autograph hunting for sure. I consider stopping at home, only blocks away from the Darth Mall, to change out of my high-heeled shoes. I decide against it; this is a major sports figure, and the line is sure to be long. I’ll go straight from work.

5:15 p.m. The line is not long. Although Sugar Ray is supposed to start signing at 6:00, there are only about a dozen people in the serpentine queue. I have time to duck into the nearest bookstore to look for a book about the man so he can sign it.

5:30 p.m. The bookstore seems as unenthused about this event as the general public is. Not only do they have no Leonard biographies on special display, they have only a handful of boxing books altogether, hitting only the high and low points: Ali and Tyson. Nothing about Sugar Ray. However, I pick up a book about the 12 best boxing rounds of all time. Leonard’s 1981 welterweight championship bout with Tommy Hearns appears on page 181, so I’ll ask him to sign his chapter. I join the line as patron #30 or so.

5:45 p.m. I’m stuck in the middle of the largest shopping center in the country with nothing to do, so I chat with my linemates. Ahead of me is a sports memorabilia collector from St. Paul, a short guy about my age. He smirks at the people carrying Leonard photos just purchased from Field of Dreams, a few stores away, for $7.00. He can get the same shot for $5.00 on eBay, including shipping and a protective plastic sleeve.

Behind me is a kickboxer from an unnamed town three hours away from the Cities. He’s shorter and skinnier than the collector and horrified by metro traffic. Thanks to his prominent pentagram necklace, he gets into a debate with a teenage Amazon who’s here to get something for a celebrity auction for scholarships to her school. The fact that it’s both a private school (“Damn rich kids!”) and a Lutheran one destroys any sympathy the kickboxer may have had for its students.

5:55 p.m. A toddler named Matthew! Matthew! completes his 800th lap around the long table set up on the stage. His father sternly counts One! . . . Two! . . . for the sixth time since I got here. This results in Matthew! Matthew! dragging his feet to his father’s side for a brief admonishment, then clambering back up onto the stage to resume running laps. No one knows what will happen if Dad ever makes it to three -- including, from the looks of things, Dad himself.

Others are getting restless as well. We’re all assuming Leonard will be late, because celebrities are always fashionably late and because, with the exception of the kickboxer from out of town, we know what rush-hour traffic is like around here. The kickboxer and the collector contemplate marking their places with the boxing gloves they’ve bought for signing and scurrying over to Starbucks for a cup of coffee. Yes, there really is a Starbucks at every bend in the road, even when the road is indoors.

6:10 p.m. We are still Sugarless. A young man from the radio station hosting the event picks up a cordless microphone and tells us that the guest of honor is stuck in accident-related traffic on 35W. But he’ll be here ASAP, and he thanks us for coming out to support the cause (the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation), and he cares about us all very deeply.

The kickboxer scoffs at the idea of someone caring about people he’s never met. He later reveals that he routinely spars without headgear.

6:30 p.m. I really wish I had stopped at home to change shoes after all. It’s been at least eight months since I wore heels to work. Why did I have to choose today? I also wish I had left my parka in the trunk of the car. And that I had gotten --

He’s here! Sugar Ray Leonard has arrived! The crowd, now about 100 strong, applauds politely, Minnesota fashion, rather than raising the roof. The mall cops stand a little straighter. Leonard is dressed all in black, from his funky sneakers to the Everlast boxing gear baseball cap on his head. From the front row (we’re all in the front row) 20 feet away, I can almost count the links in his chunky silver bracelet. He’s traveling with a minimal entourage -- I only saw one person with him, in fact. He’s no taller or heavier than I am, but still looks quite keen enough to casually wipe the floor with anyone stupid enough to challenge him.

After the introductions, which everyone ignores, Sugar Ray speaks briefly but eloquently about winning the fight against diabetes. Then the autographing begins.

6:45 p.m. The line snakes forward quickly. Nervous now, the collector and the kickboxer speculate on the likelihood of people on the upper levels of the mall hawking loogies on our heads. They also balk at the suggested donation amount, $40. As I write my check, the kickboxer says maybe he’ll follow me closely and claim that I’m his mom or something. I tell him to try again. Maybe I look intimidating in the high heels; he shuts up.

Music from the hosting radio station plays from speakers flanking the stage. One of the speakers makes a popping sound. The mall cops swivel in place, hands on nightsticks. They don’t look alert and ready for action; they look scared.

I willingly pony up a donation for what I think is a very worthy cause and mount the steps to the long table (which Matthew! Matthew! stopped orbiting once his father got a glove signed). I wish I had a friend with a camera behind me; Leonard has been posing for photos with those who want them. Instead, I open my book to p. 181. The champ scans the title, gazes bemusedly at a shot of himself victorious in the ring 23 years ago, and signs. I whisk a color photo -- actually, a color printout of a computer image -- from a stack on the table and get that signed, too.

6:48 p.m. And I’m out. The balls of my feet ache as I trek back through the mall to my car. All in all, a good evening’s work. When am I ever going to meet another professional boxer? And when is he ever going to meet another Media Sensation?

Today around the world: January 15 is Fiesta del Nino Perdido en Huancavelica in Peru and John Chilembwe Day in Malawi.

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