Following “Sugar” Ray Robinson’s retirement in 1965, the nickname became holy. It wasn’t whether a fighter could use it, but rather whether they should.

Historians raised the possibility of Robinson being the greatest fighter ever long before he retired for good. Claiming to be “Sugar” was awfully presumptuous after that.

On “Sugar” Ray Leonard’s 70th birthday, it’s important to acknowledge that he is one of few deserving of the moniker in Robinson’s wake.

As a teenager, Leonard turned heads when he won the national Golden Gloves a few years in a row and cemented his amateur credentials with two national Amateur Athletic Union titles. Leonard then moved on to international competition and won gold at the 1975 Pan Am Games in Mexico City.

“Sailor” Don Sauer, an old ex-U.S. Navy champion who wrote a column in several magazines in the 1970s, wrote months later for The Ring: “[Manager] Chris Cline says he has a real comer in Ray Leonard of Palmer Park, Maryland—a real hot piece of fistic merchandise — we’ll see Chris.”

Leonard was only 19 at the time. Later that year, he became a gold medalist and a true household name at the 1976 Olympics in Montréal with the help of mainstream media that had been wooed by his story and his made-for-TV persona.

Many remember Leonard for his various retirements, some of which were ill-timed or at least oddly-timed. Like his first retirement, which happened before he even turned professional. Leonard pledged never to fight again after the Olympics and told reporters he didn’t like athletes’ participation in the Games used to score political points. Like all other retirements but one, it didn’t stick.

Much like the syndicates backing rising stars Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier in the 1960s, a corporation gathered $20,000 to kickstart Leonard’s pro career. Ali’s old trainer Angelo Dundee led the corporation and came aboard to both train Leonard and guide his way to a world title.

Dundee said: “I don’t know which title we’re going to win. He’s a youngster, so he may become a junior welterweight champion, a welterweight champion or a middleweight champion. As a matter of fact, he could become a heavyweight champion.”

Not only did Dundee recognize the talent everyone else already saw, he knew boxing needed to brace for a new crop of fighters. Ali was still heavyweight champion, but he faded before the public’s very eyes in the mid-1970s and would lose his mojo entirely just as the 80s came along.

Whether Robinson or Leonard, surface-level stardom simply wouldn’t do. They both had substance to go with the style. One major difference between the two was the sheer amount of professional fights they both had, a disparity often attributed to bravery or valiance when it was actually born of necessity.

Fighters of yore often did fight and train in awful conditions, and in some eras championship fights lasted dozens of rounds. A handful of select, ultimately cursed fighters lasted the distance in those grueling fights numerous times. As a group, those fighters may really have been tougher humans than contemporary ones. But it was no coincidence that the explosion of fighters with one hundred or more pro fights in the 1920s and 30s happened alongside an intense increase of interest in boxing, and that most of them banged their brains for peanuts.

Just after World War II, Robinson became one of the first fighters to change that, albeit a bit too late to help himself.

His all-time pound-for-pound status ruins the possibility of having an objective or nuanced discussion about Robinson, who threatened to pull out of fights at the last minute to get a higher percentage of the gate and pioneered the concept of a celebrity entourage. After discovering golf, he insisted his clubs travel with him on trips, along with his many expensive outfits. That was diva behavior. He also ran successful businesses in Harlem for 15 years and had more say in his career than most fighters.

Despite fighting often, facing almost everyone of note and raking in record earnings, Robinson retired and came back multiple times after business mismanagement failed attempts at acting and dancing careers left him in serious debt. Somehow boxing’s greatest wasn’t immune to the idea that there was no substitute for fight purses.

Being a Sugar that came after Robinson carried with it a certain amount of pressure and responsibility, though it also offered insight to anyone intelligent enough to learn from the mistakes. Leonard fought 40 times to Robinson’s 201, and clearly Leonard’s résumé can’t touch that of Robinson, who fought fellow greats and Hall of Famers about as many times as Leonard fought period. But almost nobody’s ledger comes close to Robinson’s. Leonard’s career was just more deliberate.

Leonard was 25-0 when he faced Puerto Rican great Wilfred Benítez for the latter’s welterweight title in 1979. Leonard’s last 15 fights happened over the course of the next 18 years. It’s anomalous and a wonderful example of a potent, compact fight career. Leonard jammed wins over Roberto Durán, Thomas Hearns and Marvelous Marvin Hagler into his record during that time, not to mention victories over Ayub Kalule and Donny Lalonde that expanded his title credentials.

Boxing’s “Four Kings” of the 1980s, Leonard, Hagler, Hearns and Durán, all featured in more sub-heavyweight headlines than anyone else of the era. Leonard was the only one to hold wins over them all, plus the fan favorite would-be “Fifth King,” Benítez.

Like Robinson, Leonard retired and unretired so many times it became the subject of jokes. What nobody seemed equipped to understand was why Leonard, who was very financially comfortable, kept returning to boxing when he didn’t have to.

During an interview with The Ring in 1988, Leonard claimed he would return to save boxing from a confusing title situation in a few divisions. As he spoke about his fellow “Kings,” however, he couldn’t help but emphasize his victories over them and dismiss any criticism as jealousy and overcompensating. Ultimately the smarter financial decisions and well-curated career couldn’t stand up to a fighter’s pride.

Regular people who accomplish average things can’t be expected to fully understand the psyche of a top athlete. Natural ability and opportunity usually have to mix with obsession, or a single-minded fixation. It’s often chaotic and toxic, not to mention unforgettable.

Both Sugar Rays fought on too long. Different worlds meant different motivations, but both Sugar Rays bled in the ring the same way, heard the same boos and cheers.

At various times Leonard has said he approached Robinson as both attended a fight, while Leonard’s pro career was still in its infancy, and asked if he could use the “Sugar” nickname. Robinson gave his blessing and told Leonard to “look after it.”

The Ring had no problem calling Leonard “Sugar Ray” while reporting on his Olympic gold in 1976, and certainly nobody should take issue with it now.

Happy Birthday, Sugar Ray Leonard. You earned it.