Neither the ancient seer named Nostradamus nor his latter day equivalent, Negrodamus (as played by brilliant pal Paul Mooney on the brilliant Dave Chappelle Show), would be able to see into the cloudy future of not so eager prizefighter Floyd Mayweather Jr.
Mayweather’s Texas-sized ego has been dented like the side of Nonito Dinaire victim Fernando Montiel’s face by Manny Pacquiao’s meteoric rise to worldwide iconic status.
The Unbeaten One has been reduced to posting photos of himself with former President George Herbert Walker Bush and Cowboys owner Jerry Jones on or about the same day Congressman Pacquiao was being hosted at the U.S. Senate by Nevada Sen. Harry Reid (guess he cares less about the Mayweather Family vote) and visiting current President Obama at the White House.
Does Mayweather think his Super Bowl VIP box snapshots are tit for tat when Pacman is ruling the airwaves, the Internet and all other forms of communication? Does “Money” thinks he’s “outpointing” Manny with his tweets and Facebook friends?
Notice Mayweather did not post his photo with Pacman promoter and his former promoter, Bob Arum, who was in Unlce Jerry’s private box as well Super Sunday? Maybe American Idle Floyd realized that would just underline his ring inactivity. Look, even the worst Mayweather critic, which I’m not, would have to concede that Mayweather–who turns age 34 on Thursday–goes into the International Boxing Hall Of Fame on the first ballot when he’s eligible.
But May 1 will mark one year, 12 months of no fights except for clashes with Baby Mama and a parking monitor, for Mayweather.
When he is inducted, at this rate and unless he does fight Pacquiao, it won’t be in a blaze of glory.
In my view, May of 2007 is when it all started to go wrong for Mayweather.
On April 14, 2007, when Pacquiao stopped Jorge Solis in eight rounds in San Antonio, he was not the polished and thrilling performer he is today. His footwork and other aspects of his ringmanship left a lot to be desired.
I remember being in San Antonio, across the alley from the Alamo, and inspecting Pacman up close. I wondered then what all the hype and hoopla was about because then Manny just looked like a better than average pug.
A few weeks later, on May 5, 2007, Mayweather in the so-called “Fight To Save Boxing,” was pedestrian himself in outpointing Oscar de la Hoya. Vast sums of money were generated, yes, but the slow paced 12-rounder became ingloriously known as “the Businessman’s Special” for its lack of passion and ferocity.
This then was the borderline period, this was when Pacman started ascending and “Money” began stagnating.
Pacquiao went on to outpoint Marco Antonio Barrera, split duke Juan Manuel Marquez, destroy David Diaz, make Oskie quit on his stool and opt for retirement, flattened poor Ricky Hatton in under six full minutes and then dispense with Miguel Cotto, Joshing Clottey and Antonio Margarito.
Pacquiao was glamorizing his ring resume in eight–count ’em, eight bouts, all entertaining except for Pacifist Clottey’s dismal effort, while Mayweather slip, slip sliding away.
Mayweather was sharp and smooth in stopping Hatton in 10 rounds.
But he was content to win on points over little Juan Ma and ditto for his victory over Sugar Shane Mosley.
Now we’ve come full circle and Mayweather’s pound for pound status is as shaky as a tall building in Christchurch, New Zealand.
The former P4P ruler has one foot on a roller skate, the other on a banana.
At 34, he’s an enigma wrapped in a riddle wrapped, well maybe not wrapped too tight.
He howls at the moon, baying at “Poochiao” instead of demanding the fight the public wants so desperately.
Pacquiao is the people pleaser with eight bouts while Mayweather has four.
With Pacman, it’s been double your money, double your fun since May 5, 2007.
With Pacquiao, it’s been a ball.
With Mayweather, staring into the mirror at 34 years, it’s a ball of confusion.
