Floyd Mayweather Jr. fights again this weekend.
Finally.
It’s a welcome return — at least in this space — to the fighter who, as they used to say about Reggie Jackson in New York, is “the straw that stirs the drink.”
Love him or hate him, and it seems clear there’s a lot more of the latter, it is through Mayweather, with Mayweather and in Mayweather that the best fights at 147 pounds and its surroundings will be made until he decides to hang up the gloves permanently.
Assuming he defeats Juan Manuel Marquez — which I see him doing in 10 rounds — the “Pretty Boy” now known as “Money” takes a giant leap toward putting his name on a marquee against either Miguel Cotto or Manny Pacquiao in SuperFight 2010.
And don’t think for a second that Bob Arum doesn’t believe it, too.
In spite of the old promoter’s blathering these days about his guys holding purse strings for future welterweight mega events, it’s Mayweather who provides the caustic element that’ll draw fans out in the fervent hope that he gets his head knocked off.
Cotto and Pacquiao are quality boxers and decent guys who’ll put on a good fight in November, but without Floyd, that’s all it is… a good fight.
With him and his family and his antics and his persona… it’s an event.
A must-see event that lovers, haters and undecideds will scrape together $55 to watch on PPV.
Because the guy works a crowd better than Hulk Hogan.
When he fought Diego Corrales, he was the white-hatted champion of battered women. When he fought Arturo Gatti, he was the black-hatted prince on the shoulders of regal henchmen. When he fought Carlos Baldomir, he was the sombrero-wearing irritant against a sentimental underdog.
And against Oscar De La Hoya — in a show that, lest we forget, drew bigger on pay-per-view than any in history — he was the scene-stealing punk teasing 24/7 viewers by “making it rain” and flitting with thug cohorts around a palatial estate.
It’s the stuff that blockbusters are made of.
Oh, and let’s not forget he can fight, too.
The aforementioned four matches resulted in two brutal KOs, one wide decision and one split verdict that — sorry Oscar — was far closer on paper than in the ring. As for his other 35, not only has he won them all, but he’s done so while seldom dropping a round… let alone a scorecard.
And though some may argue that Cotto or Pacquiao — or even Mosley and Margarito — are better fighters, it’s impossible to contend they or any others promote a more visceral sensory reaction than the man last seen knocking an unbeaten Ricky Hatton into oblivion two years ago.
The New York Yankees of professional prize-fighting, if you will.
Welcome back, Floyd.
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It’s my favorite day of the year.
Well, OK… maybe other than my birthday, my son’s birthday and Christmas… but still, it’s pretty big.
September 16.
The date when, over the course of seven years back in the 1980s, my life changed forever.
First, it was September 16, 1981. Tommy Hearns. Ray Leonard. The “Showdown” at 147 pounds. Anyone of my age group remembers it like it was yesterday. And as I glanced at the calendar this week and realized it’s now been 28 years since it happened… I’m amazed.
It was that fight more than any other that got me revved-up. I was a Tommy fan. Was sure he’d win. Couldn’t wait until the next day, when I’d go to Edward Town Junior High School and lord it over all the “Sugar Ray” fans while collecting on a bevy of lunch money bets.
