Yet another B-list celebrity has revealed past victimization by a sexual abuser.

The big news about Sugar Ray Leonard’s new book is that as a 15-year-old he was molested by a boxing coach. That’s about all you’ve heard about the book.

He joins some illustrious company from the past few years like Ashley Judd and Mackenzie Phillips, who flogged memoirs by going on the talk-show circuit and talking about how they were molested as children. Phillips probably gets the big prize for the bull goose loony of sexual abuse stories; she said she had an ongoing sexual relationship for years with her father, John Phillips of The Mamas & The Papas. You had to love the twisted irony of the allegation juxtaposed with the name of a band synonymous with the whole hippie peace ‘n’ love vibe.

If the tone there sounds a bit jaded, well … guilty.

Some people are expressing doubts about Leonard’s revelation. He refuses to name his abuser, whom he says is now dead. And some people have wondered why a 15-year-old boxer – a person in the prime of physical shape who was trained to hurt people – would allow a man to perform oral sex on him in a car. The latter sounds like a good question, but really isn’t. The guy was in a position of authority over him and didn’t give much warning of what he was going to do. Leonard could’ve been weirded out or scared or baffled about what to do. Those of us who haven’t been in a situation like that can hardly second-guess somebody who has.

Actually, the question of whether it happened is irrelevant. What I wonder about, and this is admittedly cynical, is why people seem most likely to publicize past sexual abuse when they’re publicizing a book. It’s so deeply cynical that even if the story is true, there’s something a little bit creepy about saying, in effect: “I was abused. Buy my book to read all about it.”

After all, it’s not like Leonard has been a big subject of public concern recently. He was a big deal as a boxer, but his last fight was 14 years ago (he lost and that was the last of several comebacks in a sport that, on the legitimacy scale, ranks somewhere between pro wrestling and bicycle racing). His last big public appearance was on “Dancing with the Stars,” a show that has radically redefined downwards the meaning of “star.” He’s getting more ink now than he has in years.

Does that mean it didn’t happen? No. In fact, if it did, Leonard has every right to make a buck off it, although if it affected him as he says it did money would be the coldest comfort. I won’t begrudge him his comfort, wherever and however he finds it.

But Leonard, by any standard, has had a good life. He’s got fame, money, all those things that have become the American Dream, at least for teen-agers. If he expects me to feel sorry for him, well, he’s outta luck.

I blame Oprah for this. She did it herself, although it wasn’t to sell a book, it was to promote her TV show. But she did it at a time when it was much less common, and you can make the case that given the state of society at the time, she probably helped a lot of people with similar backgrounds begin the lifelong healing process. You’ve got to name the demon before you can fight it.

But Lord, aren’t there better ways to market a book?

It’s the hundreds of thousands of unknown victims I feel sorry for, the people who carry that kind of burden but will never be able to find a publisher, even if they’re so inclined. They are left to struggle with past horrors every day, anonymously; if they’re lucky, they have a support system of family and friends to help, but in the end, they are left to face their dark night of the soul alone.

One of the most rewarding – probably the most rewarding – professional moment I ever had came because of one of those people.

A few years ago, a man in Moorhead was found to have been abusing young girls in his neighborhood. It came out because the victim, years after it happened, brought it up in a high school health class assignment. After she followed through on her accusation and the guy was arrested, seven other girls came forward. The man, a truly odious excuse for a human being, went away for a long time.

The father of the first girl called me one day. He told me that the other girls came forward after seeing my story in the paper about the first girl’s accusation. He thanked me for writing the story. In that one five-minute phone conversation, the man basically validated my career choice and, in a way, my life (not that I needed that validated).

I think of that phone call often, but I don’t have any illusions about my part in the saga. All I did was what I was paid to do, write a story about it for my newspaper. The real heroes of the piece are the seven girls, in particular that first one. If she never does anything else important in her life, she did something that did more to make the world a better place than most other people ever do.

I don’t know her name and I don’t really want to. I know there’s a brave young woman out there who showed the kind of courage that speaks volumes about the human spirit. That’s all I need to know.

And she got nothing material out of it. I hope she and the others are proud of themselves, but pride doesn’t buy a loaf of bread or make you famous.

Still, there’s something to be said for doing the right thing for all the right reasons and not just to make a buck or sell a book.