October 2006. A typical fall day in New York City if not for the far from typical man walking down 52nd Street.

Wearing a blue polo shirt with a brown jacket and a baseball cap, Roberto Duran could have been anyone walking through the city during lunch hour, and he carried himself just like a regular Joe as he made his way to the iconic Victor’s Café.

Whether in its former location further uptown or in its current spot, the restaurant was a regular haunt for the boxing hall of famer, whose undercover presence didn’t stay undercover for long.

“Duran, Duran,” they yelled from across the street. He waved back as if greeting long-lost friends before stepping inside to participate in the latest of an endless run of press conferences he had been a part of since he first began fighting in 1968.

“I’m hungry,” laughed Duran as he walked through the door, and within seconds, a bowl of soup was placed in front of him. This is how royalty gets treated, and even if it was just another day for “Manos de Piedra,” for me, this was something more than that.

It’s why when Showtime’s Chris DeBlasio gave a cryptic invite to a small press luncheon with a fighter, I wasn’t eager to take the trip to NYC until I found out who it was. When I did, I was in. All-in.

See, in my household growing up, there was the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit and Roberto Duran. I can thank my father for that. Of course, as an impressionable youth, my religious leanings went more to Sugar Ray Leonard, which caused more than its share of arguments, especially in 1980, but as I grew older, I understood just what a United States Marine from Brooklyn saw in a street kid from Panama.

There was a ferocity to Duran’s fighting, but a sublime skill to go with it.

“Look at how he moves his head just a little to take the impact off the punches,” my father would say, appreciative of the finer points of the sweet science he tried to impart to a kid who just wanted to see Sugar Ray deliver a highlight reel knockout of Davey “Boy” Green or engage in a staredown for the ages with Wilfred Benitez.

Finer points of anything were lost on the kid walking around with a Motley Crue headband and a Def Leppard Velcro wallet, but my father, a fan of Benny Leonard, Chuck Davey, Kid Gavilan and, of course, Duran, had hope. Misplaced, maybe, but hope dies last, right?

My dad died in 1999. Duran, long after securing his spot among the sport’s immortals, was still fighting at 48, and he had three bouts left before retiring with a 103-16 record following a 2001 loss to Hector Camacho. Five years later, he was in the Big Apple talking to the media about the upcoming third bout between one of the fighters under his DRL Promotions umbrella, Joel Casamayor, and Diego Corrales.

He could have been talking about anything and we would have showed up. Even the veterans among us were awed by his presence.

“Even after 28 years in boxing, I still get the butterflies in my stomach and a tremendous thrill to be in the same room with a legend like this,” said Steve Farhood, who first covered Duran when he fought Monroe Brooks at Madison Square Garden in 1978. In 2006, nothing had changed in terms of his thoughts on Duran.

“All of the old-timers would talk about the great fighters, and they all - to a man - said that there was only one fighter fighting today who could fight with the greatest fighters of any era,” recalled Farhood.  “I figured they were talking about Muhammad Ali.  They weren’t - they were talking about Roberto Duran.  He’s the only one they said could have fought with Benny Leonard, Bob Montgomery, and Ike Williams.  You name the fighter, and Roberto Duran would have fit in. I found that to be the ultimate compliment because they were putting him above Ali, above every other great fighter of that era.  Now, I’m one of the old-timers and a lot of the young people ask me who the greatest fighter is, and without a doubt, my answer is still the same; the best fighter I’ve ever seen, along with being my favorite fighter of all time, is Roberto Duran.”

I don’t remember what the lunch served that day was, though I’m sure with it being from Victor’s it was something good. But I can’t forget that day with Duran, who always had a special place in his heart for New York City, the site of some of his biggest wins over Ken Buchanan, Davey Moore and Carlos Palomino. He recalled his first visit here as a teenager.

“The first time I came to New York, I was 17 years old and I walked around New York because I wanted to see Central Park,” Duran said. “Everyone would tell me, ‘The park’s over there,’ and I couldn’t find it.  When I finally got to the park, I said, ‘Next time I come to New York, everyone’s gonna recognize who I am.’”

Mission accomplished.

There would be other encounters with the legend over the years, my wife’s favorite being when she got his autograph at the Boxing Writers Association of America dinner. My favorite was when Thomas Hauser brought me over to Duran and his son at a fight in Atlantic City. Hauser proceeded to tell the story of my lone fight in the New York Golden Gloves (spoiler alert – it didn’t go too well. For more on that debacle if you’re one of the three percent of the world population that hasn’t heard the story, visit https://medium.com/@tgerbasi/turning-50-part-two-the-fight-f6c58173b097 ). But after Duran heard the story, translated by his son, he looked at me, paused, opened his arms wide and laughed the most genuine laugh you’ve ever heard. I’d like to think that it meant, ‘Hey, buddy, it’s okay, at least you got in there.’ In reality, I think it was, ‘You glass-jawed fool; leave this fighting stuff to the professionals.’

Either way, they were all moments I wish my father was there to see or at least to hear about, especially since he was ultimately responsible for dragging me into this crazy world of boxing.

I did my part with my daughter, as well. We have her on tape as a little one talking about Sugar Shane Mosley, (Muhammad) Ali and Big George (Foreman) as proof. But as she got a little older – seven to be exact – her favorite was Artoono Gatti. Not Arturo, Artoono. Even when corrected, she kept it her way because that’s what seven-year-olds do.

So when I found out that Gatti and Micky Ward were scheduled to have a press conference before a BWAA dinner, I was going to throw all professionalism out the window and have her meet the pride of Montreal and Jersey City.

He canceled and the presser was called off.

All was not lost, as my little girl made fans out of all the folks who signed her Disney autograph book, among them Wladimir Klitschko, Audley Harrison, Chris Byrd and Vernon Forrest. And when she saw Gatti’s trainer, Buddy McGirt, from across the room, her eyes lit up.

“Come on, daddy, we have to get Buddy McGirt.”

I don’t know what that says about my parenting that my seven-year-old didn’t just know fighters, but their trainers, but we “got” Buddy.

A couple years later, she “got” Artoono too, at a press conference in Little Italy to promote Gatti’s fight with Gianluca Branco. Again, very unprofessional, but the folks at Main Events were very accommodating to my daughter that day. And while Gatti was going through some rough emotional times due to a breakup with his girlfriend, his demeanor changed when he signed my kid’s autograph book. She doesn’t watch much of boxing these days, but she still wears her Gatti hoodie, and she won’t likely forget the kindness of Gatti and all the boxers she’s met over the years.

And that’s the thing about boxing, right? Once you’re in, you’re in, and for all the bad in the sport (or any sport, for that matter), there’s so much good that you want everyone to know about it.

So, I thank Duran for being Duran, and happy belated 69th birthday, champ. I also thank my father for giving me Duran because in doing so, he gave me boxing. And in turn, I gave my daughter Arturo Gatti because there was something about what “Thunder” did in the ring that made me look at everything a different way, and I wanted my kid to feel that way too. When she has her daughter this September, maybe she’ll pass that on.

If not, I know a guy who will. I’ll get the DVDs ready.

Happy Father’s Day!