“Ryan, we need you now. Make sense of this!”
“Shane Mosley had everything he needed to do the job. What happened?”
“Ryan, you always cut through the bullshit and keep it logical. You have to have something to say!”
Of course I have something to say. I’m a writer. That’s my job. Specifically, I’m a boxing writer. I cut through all the crap that everyone else feeds you and I tell it like it is. If I’m not giving you the truth, or the facts, or something that doesn’t make you stop and think, I’m not doing the job I was assigned to do.
So after Saturday night’s win over Shane Mosley, of course I have something to say about Floyd Mayweather. Did you not expect me to? Let’s call a spade a spade…
?
…YEA, I GOT NOTHING.
Nothing. What can I say? Floyd won. And he won convincingly.
This was not a matter of a hand-selected paper champ. This was not a matter of taking a lightweight and forcing him up two weight classes. This was not a track meet, not a farce-of-a-mismatch.
This was not Floyd being up on someone before their prime, and granted, although fighting three-to-five years earlier would have been more premium circumstances, this was also not Floyd beating up on someone completely out of their prime.
Please do not try to rationalize saying that Shane turned “instantly old overnight.” We must be better than that. Shane had what it took; he proved it in round two. Shane Mosley attacked and pressured and hurt Mayweather.
I repeat: SHANE MOSLEY HURT FLOYD MAYWEATHER.
And then… he stopped. By his own admission, he went looking for the knockout. But as soon as Mayweather recovered, the knockout was again just out of reach.
This is not an easy column for me to write, but that is because I fear losing the fan base I’ve built up, who have rallied with me in saying that Floyd needs to prove himself if he wants to talk so highly. You’ve backed me when people have hated on me and called me “biased.” You, my beloved readers and fans, make it hard to write this column.
It is not made hard, by the fact that there’s no room for critique of Floyd. The runner became the aggressor. The defensive genius put on an offensive show. And, as Larry Merchant said in only the true rambling fashion he can get away with, the Artful Dodger handily beat the man who sat atop the welterweight mountain.
Shane was wound up tighter than one of Coolio’s braids. He was twitchy and jumpy and wasted energy he needed to maintain throughout the fight. He focused on the knockout. Floyd ducked him in his prime. In his prime, this would have all turned around. Stop. Just stop. We could go on and on for days about what Shane did, didn’t do, could have done, could have not done, to change the outcome. And, knowing our sometimes-long-winded staff, we probably will. (That’s a joke, guys.) Other Mayweather victories (Castillo, Baldomir, Mitchell) left us that luxury. That luxury cannot be found in this fight, because it is not in this fight.
We can’t rationalize it. We just can’t. Trust me, all the way on the drive home, I tried. I looked for anything. But there’s nothing. And despite what my detractors say, I’m not a hater.
Floyd won. He’s the king of the welterweights. He has equal claim to the pound-for-pound throne as does Pacquiao, and only a fight between the two can resolve that. While someone who’s won multiple belts over seven weight classes certainly fits the definition of “pound-for-pound,” Saturday’s performance certainly also warrants nothing less than number one. On my pound-for-pound, I have two number ones ? Pacquiao, and Mayweather.
Floyd Mayweather is a cocky, arrogant, self-centered, materialistic sonofabitch. And he’s the best welterweight there is, and one of the two best active fighters in the world today. There’s nothing that I, you, or anyone else, can take away from that.
Those that do are truly the “haters.”
