By Norm Frauenheim-
Roy Jones, a lot more of a Senior than a Junior these days, walks away and hopefully stays away after what he says was his final fight Thursday night in the same Pensacola arena where it all began nearly a decade before there was Google.
That’s a lot of hits.
He’s landed them.
And absorbed them.
Jones’ 75-fight career, including major titles in four weight classes over 29 years, amounts to a legacy that will lead to the Canastota Hall in upstate New York five years from now.
About that, there’s no debate. The only real question is whether he was an all-timer, a rival to the legends in any era. He says yeah, hell yeah.
“You can’t pretend there has ever been anyone come close to doing what I did,” Jones said in several rounds of media interviews this week. “Nobody you could name could touch me and I’m talking about nobody who’s around now, nobody who was around in my prime, and nobody who was around any time.’’
Muhammad Ali in the late 1960s and early 1970s? Sugar Ray Robinson in the late 1940s and throughout the 1950s? Not sure. It is tough, perhaps impossible, to compare great fighters from very different eras.
But there is a compelling element to Jones’ all-time claim. Within the ropes, he says, he was a better than Floyd Mayweather Jr, who has caps and T-shirts that boast the acronym TBE – The Best Ever.
Jones, who turned 49 on Jan. 16, has no argument with Mayweather’s business acumen. He is The Best Earner in history. Mayweather perfected the risk-for-reward ratio. He surpassed late heavyweight champ Rocky Marciano’s iconic 49-0 mark, going 50-0. But he did it by beating a Conor McGregor, a mixed-martial-arts star yet a novice boxer, in August.
The point to Jones’ argument, however, is that Mayweather was better at making money than he was at fighting. It’s hard to contest that one. On virtually every level other than financial, Jones proved to be resilient, coming back from repeated losses. He stayed busy, beginning with a middleweight title and reviving a dormant light-heavyweight division while also beating John Ruiz for a heavyweight title in 2003. He is the first middleweight to win a heavyweight belt since Bob Fitzsimmons did it 120 years ago. He also has a signature win, a 1994 dominant decision over James Toney, who at the time was a pound-for-pound frontrunner.
What undercuts Jones’ all-time claim was an early reluctance to travel, especially to Germany for a bout against Dariusz Michalczewski. At the time, Jones was at the peak of his physical powers. He was everywhere — in the ring and elsewhere.
In north Florida, he was the most versatile athlete since Florida State’s Deion Sanders, a cornerback who on one day in 1988 played in a spring football game, played baseball and ran in a track-and-field meet.
Eight years later, Jones played point guard for Jacksonville of the United States Basketball League in the afternoon and scored an 11th-round knockout of Eric Lucas in a super-middleweight title defense that night.
The guess here is that a Jones’ victory over Michalczewski would have been a slam-dunk in Germany or Antarctica. But an apparent reluctance lingered in Jones, perhaps from what happened to him at the 1988 Games in Seoul. It was a heist of Olympic proportions, a proven fix that gave the gold to a forgotten South Korean and left Jones with silver. Twenty years from now, that infamous moment might be how Jones is remembered.
From this corner, however, his pro career is at least worthy of some all-time consideration. Let’s just say he’s in the conversation. At the risk of contradicting myself on the difficulty of comparing different eras, I’ll make an exception: Four Kings.
That’s the title to the terrific book by the late George Kimball, who wrote about the Sugar Ray Leonard, Marvin Hagler, Thomas Hearns and Roberto Duran rivalry that defined the 1980s. It was boxing’s last great era. The guess here is that Jones in his prime could have held his own against those guys. There would have been Five Kings, each an all-timer.
