How many more men do I have to see maimed and killed to finally accept what this sport is about? And yet I wonder if I’ll ever get out.
– Former heavyweight champion Oliver McCall
Boxing is intoxicating, captivating and exhilarating. Though dangerous, potentially deadly and too often tragic, it continues to attract fans, seducing its addicts from a select societal group, men and women who enjoy punching each other senseless and those who enjoy the same voyeuristic delights. To love boxing is to accept contradiction. To hate boxing is to refuse acknowledgement of the blood oath, of guts, dedication and a willingness to bleed. Boxing is the toughest of all sports made worse by the certainty that each fighter, at some stage of his career, must experience the complete loss of dignity.
Boxing is often referred to as the sweet science. It remains the most compelling and alluring sport on the planet. A good fight is like no other contest in world sport. There is nothing in world sport that can compete with a knockout. Clap your hands. That’s how long it can take to knock someone out, fist on chin, separation of senses and loss of dignity in less than a second.
A technical knockout is often the result of a sustained barrage, fifteen, twenty or thirty unanswered punches, usually thrown in ten to fifteen seconds, the stricken fighter refusing to go down but unable to fight back, the contest halted by the referee, an impartial individual with savage power of attorney over careers, health and life.
When a man is knocked down or out, or the referee stops the fight, those watching on are either brutalised, disgusted or adrenalized. The knockout is definitive. One man goes on, the other has to come back. The savage speed of a knockout, however chilling, provides more than money-shot highlights and clarity. The knockout can help protect boxers and prolong a fighter’s career. A sustained beating is much worse.
Multiple world champion Bernard Hopkins is still fighting at age 47, not from any fiscal necessity, but because no one has ever convinced him to retire. Prior to his 2008 fight against Kelly Pavlik, Hopkins, at 45, disputed the assertion that his skills had eroded to the point of danger.
‘If I’m not the same person I was in 2001 then I want someone to prove that by putting me on my arse,’ Hopkins said. ‘Someone making me look like I shouldn’t be in the ring.’
Despite the 17-year age gap, Hopkins dominated Pavlik. In his last fight against 28-year old Jean Pascal, Hopkins was put on his arse twice and rallied late to force a draw in a bout many observers thought he won. Hopkins is an extraordinary fighter. He’s not getting better with age but he’s not regressing into old age like most 47-year old men.
To be an old fighter is duplicitous. Some, like former heavyweight champ Lennox Lewis sensibly resisted all offers to come back for one more fight. Perhaps insensibly, Lewis has expanded beyond 300 pounds. Others like Evander Holyfield refuse to believe their skills and mental capabilities have eroded, and place themselves in increasing danger each time they step into the ring.
At the weekend, Sugar Shane Mosley went the distance with Manny Pacquaio. In losing a horrendously lopsided decision, Mosley showed he was on old fighter kidding himself that he is still capable of competing at the highest level.
I’m not the girl you once put you faith in, just someone that looks like me
– Aimee Mann
It was shocking what happened to Mosley at the weekend, clear evidence of how everything about boxing can seem so damn bad. Mosley needs to retire. The flashy speed is gone, the power is gone. During the fight he barely threw a combination. The 39-year old was completely outfought by Pacquiao at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, a 12-round grimace of pain and amazement, how a fighter who was once considered the world’s best could fight so poorly.
Mosley’s record was sound going into the fight, 46 wins against 6 defeats and one draw. Despite having knocked out 39 opponents, he carried his name and memory instead of credibility into the ring. Significantly, his last six fights had yielded just three wins. It’s been more than two years since he knocked anyone out. During the build up to the fight he admitted he’d been selected as Pacquiao’s opponent because he was regarded as a soft touch. The bookies figured he didn’t have much chance either, offering 8-1 odds.
‘That’s what the odds makers are saying,’ Mosley said the day before the fight. ‘That’s fine with me. The main goal is to get the win and then we can talk about being an underdog. I don’t pay attention to that, I’ve been an underdog in a lot of my fights.’
Ten years ago, when Mosley wasn’t a shot fighter, he was rarely the nominated underdog. His skills were too sublime, his speed unrivalled, power considerable and his defence impressive. He peaked in 2000, a split decision victory against Oscar De La Hoya. At that stage he was undefeated, 35 wins with 31 knockouts. In the last 11 years, 22 fights have produced 13 wins, 7 losses, a draw and a no-contest.
Against Pacquiao, although taller, stronger and with a longer reach, Mosley was giving up seven years of age, which negated any natural advantages he possessed. With recent patchy form, there were fears going into the fight that he wouldn’t be competitive.
Pacquiao, unburdened by recent poor performance, said he was pleased to be fighting in Las Vegas again after a two year hiatus. He was also heartened that the build up hadn’t been tarnished with shenanigans, no bullshit banter or false bravado, neither fighter providing one controversial moment. ‘It sets a good example for the children who idolize fighters,’ Pacquiao said. ‘In my life, this is the best promotion I’ve ever had.’
The weeks before the bout might’ve been filled with mutual love and respect but it was Mosley who felt the need to offer deception. ‘We’re going to go out there,’ he said, ‘and not take our foot off the gas pedal.’
He spoke in contradictions, Pacquiao is short welterweight, but he’s not a small welterweight, he’s very powerful, and evoked memories of the fighter who personified the greed and sleaze of Las Vegas. ‘This is like a Mike Tyson fight. We’re heavyweights out there. I’m looking to go out there, take charge and beat Manny Pacquiao.’
Mosley didn’t need to mention Tyson to warn the public it could be a bad fight. He scoffed at suggestions of age, it meant nothing. The 39-year old as felt energetic as he did in 2009 when he stopped the dangerous Antonio Margarito. The fight against Pacquiao would be a reminder of previous destruction, when he obliterated the lightweight division.
‘It’s kind of like going back in time,’ he said. ‘I think I can do all the things I could do in the ring five years ago. Ten years ago, I can’t think back that far.’
After losing seven fights in the past decade, it’s no wonder Mosley can’t recall how good he was. It is hardly surprising, given he’s never ducked anyone and fought the best of his era. A future hall-of-fame boxer, many of his opponents will also end up in boxing’s hall of fame. But his longevity is based on the simple fact that he’s never been stopped or knocked out rather than stellar performances. Still, he felt young, lived clean and stayed active between fights. His stamina has never been questioned, nor had his heart.
‘Maybe it’s good genetics,’ Mosley mused. ‘I still feel good, I still feel young. I feel like I could fight for years.’
Pacquiao is the top ranked boxer in the world, the pound for pound king. A humble man, he was elected last year into parliament. That instantly makes him unique. A politician and boxer is an odd combination. A declared national treasure in the Philippines, he transcends boxing. As a child he fought for food on the streets. In the ring he hasn’t lost a fight for six years, 14 consecutive wins with nine knockouts. His record was impressive, 52 wins against three losses and two draws.
In the past six year, each time Pacquiao has fought the world has seen improvement. At age 32, that improvement has probably peaked, but he remains untouchable, the best fighter on the planet, a champion in eight weight divisions. Without exaggeration, Pacquiao deserves to be ranked in the top 25 boxers of all time.
‘I am looking forward to Saturday and making a good fight with Shane Mosley for the fans,’ he said the day before the bout. ‘I am definitely not taking this fight lightly and I am not underestimating Shane Mosley. Mosley has good hand and foot speed and he moves like he is 31 or 32.’
Most fit 39-year old men can look much younger on the street, in casual or formal attire, but there’s no hiding age in the ring, half naked when the punches start to fly.
Naazim Richardson has trained Mosley for years, through good and bad fights. Richardson is a top-level trainer. Like every man involved in boxing, he’s also an eternal optimist. Age, he suggested before the fight, didn’t matter, not when his man could box clever. ‘We tend to overlook the high IQ that Shane has in boxing,’ Richardson said.
Through 54 fights, Mosley had only been knocked down twice, by Vernon Forrest in the same fight. His defence is solid, hard to hit, and when he does get tagged he tends to fire back. Mosley’s biggest faults are his tendencies to move backwards instead of side to side and let his left hand lie low. Very few fighters, though, fight 54 times without getting stopped, which proves his durability.
‘You’re not talking about an ordinary guy getting older,’ Richardson said. ‘You’re talking about a legend. This is Sugar Shane Mosley.’
Everyone knew who Richardson was talking about. Mosley was standing next to him, already decreed a legend, an honour generally accorded long after retirement. Richardson was bluffing. Mosley might one day be remembered as a legend, but his legacy is what Richardson should’ve been worried about.
Training had been tough, a rigorous camp. Richardson was pleased with Mosley’s effort and his weight of 147 pounds, the welterweight limit. ‘If he can be the best Sugar Shane Mosley then Manny Pacquiao is going to have problems,’ Richardson said. ‘Sugar Shane Mosley doesn’t have to match Manny Pacquiao because he’s bringing his own weapons.’
Discussion about weapons turned to Pacquiao’s fists, speed and ability to throw punches from all angles. ‘I’m very protective of my athletes,’ Richardson said, addressing concerns of a possible mismatch. ‘You have to protect them and look out for their best interests.’
Those words would prove duplicitously prophetic during the fight.
Pacquiao, who’d been involved in a car accident a few days before the bout, said he was fine to fight. He would be wearing yellow gloves during the bout as a symbol of unity in the fight against poverty in the Philippines. The champ said he expected a good fight.
‘We will both be doing our best, which should make for a lot of action and make the fans happy,’ Pacquiao said. ‘I will be happy if this happens.’
Freddie Roach, who has moulded Pacquiao from a two bit combination into a bona fide star said training camp was tough and his fighter worked his butt off. ‘This is definitely a tough fight but Manny is 100 percent ready,’ Roach said. ‘We have a great team. I want to thank the entire camp for helping make this the best camp ever.’
The saccharine speak didn’t end. As many trainers have done, Roach praised his fighter for his fitness, the best shape ever, because the opponent was determined, extremely crafty and experienced. ‘We anticipate a sensational championship event this weekend,’ Roach said. We know the fans in the sold-out arena and those watching on TV will witness a battle between two of the sport’s greatest champions.’
It didn’t happen. Fighters always talk a great fight but the loser always lies, as does his trainer. Boxing is all about dignity, maintaining and losing it. In Las Vegas, Sugar Shane Mosley lost whatever dignity he had left as a fighter.
Naturally bigger, stronger and with a longer reach, Mosley needed to attack Pacquiao from the opening second of the first round, not skirt around him, left to right, immediately wary, without taking a single punch, of Pacquiao’s power. Both fighters were cautious in the first, nothing much landing save for a few body punches by Pacquiao and a straight right hand Mosley landed through the gloves. Both men are defensive technicians, and while boxing is about hitting and not getting hit, it is all about hitting. Offense would dictate the pace. Only one man would apply it.
In the corner Richardson looked Mosley in the eye, watching as he drew down deep breaths and spat water. ‘When you hold him you gotta spin him. As soon as you turn him he can’t get off.’ Richardson wanted Pacquiao off balance, out of whack. ‘Bend your knees, I don’t want you standing up tall.’
Pacquiao maintained his balance, feet planted far apart, easy in and out, outworking Mosley in the second, stinging shots to the body and head. Mosley went backwards, side to side, found the ropes and tried to counter, swishing air, his jab drifting aimlessly.
‘You’re getting closer,’ Roach told Pacquiao in the corner between rounds.
Every fight has a defining moment, a punch, a butt, torn muscle, cut or knockdown. After 31 seconds of round three, Pacquiao’s left hook was the defining moment. The punch, as it missed Mosley’s chin by millimetres and thudding into his chest, must’ve sounded like a bullet. Instantly, Mosley was intimidated. He fired back, a meek right hand that missed and got belted with another left hook. Hurt, he retreated backwards. In the following minute, Pacquiao threw seven left hooks, all from long range. Four landed. Halfway through the round, with the ninth left hook for the round, Pacquiao dropped Mosley, a thudding knockdown.
On his left side, on the canvas, Mosley gazed into space, eyes narrowed in pain, trying to focus on an imaginary far away object. He was up at eight, nodding in appreciation, knowing the fight was over. He was demoralised, in pain and on Queer Street, somehow making it out of the round.
In the corner, Richardson told him to keep his knees bent, to not stand straight up. ‘You gotta find something,’ he said. Mosley nodded. Finding Pacquiao with a few punches would’ve been a good start.
Mosley’s stamina and defence cannot be questioned, nor can his determination not to quit. Through the middle rounds, as the punches wafted in, he tried moving to his left, out of range of Pacquiao’s left hook, and holding his right hand tight against his jaw. The Filipino dug to the body and jabbed instead, always on the advance, landing hooks when he wanted to.
Referee Kenny Bayless continually separated the fighters. To start the six, Mosley threw a two punch combination before clinching, sucking difficult breaths as though those two punches had worn him out. Pacquiao, frustrated by Mosley’s lack of fight, beckoned him in. Mosley refused.
Between rounds Roach implored his fighter to be more active. ‘Throw combinations,’ he said. ‘He can’t handle speed.’
Mosley fought the rest of the fight going backwards, unwilling to trade, clinching through the booing that rang out, throwing nothing significant, content to lose the fight but not get knocked out. The championship rounds were target practice. Pacquiao, under zero pressure, began loading up after getting admonished in the corner for throwing one punch at a time. Mosley had no intention of engaging Pacquiao for fear of getting knocked out, so he kept his right glove attached to his right cheek, protection against the left hook, and ran backwards. In a clinch late in the tenth, Mosley pushed Pacquiao to the canvas. Bayless incorrectly awarded a knockdown. Pacquiao shook his head, Mosley shrugged as if to say sorry then got whacked and wobbled, looking like a fighter ready to get knocked out.
Argument could be made for stopping the fight at the end of the eleventh, but Richardson sent Mosley out, to finish on his feet or go out on his shield. You have to protect them and look out for their best interests, Richardson said before the fight. As he sent Mosley out for the final round, another mauling, he’d failed in his duty to care for his fighter. Mosley had no chance of winning. It was unnecessary slaughter. No one would’ve begrudged Richardson for stopping the fight.
In the opposite corner, as if to highlight the bloody brutality of boxing, Roach told Pacquiao to close the show. ‘Finish this guy,’ he said. ‘You can back him up, he can’t do a thing.’
Mosley hadn’t done a thing all night except retreat and hold. It was a dismal performance, dangerous to his health and he needs to take heed. No matter how clean he lives, or how good training camp is, he is old for a fighter and he can’t do it anymore.
Boxing devours its heroes and villains too much. Mosley must retire or he’s going to get seriously hurt. His legacy isn’t worth tarnishing any further, because he’s been great for the sport.
After the fight, Pacquiao said he tried to make the bout exciting but was hampered by cramping legs. Graciously, he said the punch that dropped Mosley was a lucky shot. ‘I think he felt my power,’ he said. ‘I wanted to fight toe-to-toe, but this is boxing.’
Mosley’s face was swollen, his eyes bloodshot. He refused to blame is awful performance on age. ‘I felt I did a pretty good job,’ he said. ‘Manny is an exceptional fighter. Good speed, power that I have never been hit with before.’
Asked if he could’ve taken more risks, Mosley admitted he didn’t want to get knocked out. ‘When he knocked me down, he kind of surprised me with his punching power.’
When he watches a replay of the fight, Mosley will be surprised by the total lack of resistance he offered, his complete unwillingness to fight. None of the three judges awarded Mosley a round. Simply, he got his arse kicked.
The smart option is retirement. At age 39, having lost two significant fights in the past year, he needs to quit. Hopefully he won’t fight on until someone hands him his arse. It almost happened against Pacquiao. The next time will be worse.
Sugar Shane Mosley was a great fighter, respectful and humble. He took on the best, tried to avenge his defeats and never shirked a fight. The only fight he has left, like most old boxers, is against himself.
I won’t be watching him again, unless it’s a replay of an old fight. I’ve seen too many boxers broken down by the sweet science, men looking for something to prove when it’d all been done before.
Looking for redemption in boxing makes the sport compelling, tragic and horrifying. It is also what makes boxing great, but the balance is never as it should be.
