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Insider’s take: Is Roy Jones Jr. ruining his legacy?
As Roy Jones Jr. prepares to fight tough, heavy-handed cruiserweight, Denis Lebedev, in Russia this Saturday, not many fans are giving the veteran four-division champ much of a chance. As a matter of fact, most consider the match-up to be an embarrassing mismatch in Lebedev's favor and many are even voicing concerns about Jones' safety and well-being in this contest.
But back in the day, Roy Jones Jr. was untouchable.
It takes a special fighter to be listed among the Top Five all-time greats in two separate weight classes, yet Roy Jones Jr., the boxing phenom from Pensacola, Florida currently has that distinction, as well as a sure-fire first ballot entry into the Hall of Fame.
Outside of his all-time status in the super middleweight and light heavyweight division, consider the fact that he can also boast a world title run at middleweight and an unlikely title grab in the heavyweight division.
Along the way, he beat the likes of Bernard Hopkins, James Toney, and John Ruiz, who counted themselves among the eighteen current, former, or future world champions Jones would defeat over the course of a twenty-two year career.
Putting record and belts aside, Jones just may have been the most physically gifted athlete to ever compete in the sport. To Jones, rattling off eight-punch combinations while easily evading all incoming shots was as effortless as walking through the ropes.
A prime Roy Jones Jr. was laser-fast, razor-sharp, and as dominating a fighter as had ever been seen in boxing. Making fellow first-ballot Hall of Famers like Hopkins and Toney look absolutely pedestrian was a clear indication that Jones was, indeed, something truly special.
Unfortunately, the 1990's Fighter of the Decade is at least seven or eight years past his prime now and his vaunted speed has been reduced to being somewhat average. As a fighter who buttered his bread with almost super human reflexes, Jones has not adapted well to playing within the physical limitations of mere mortals.
Whereas fighters like Hopkins and Toney are still chugging along, finding success well into their forties due to their supreme skill set and technical knowledge, the forty-two year old Jones still fights like he did in his prime— except without the actual athleticism to execute his style.
Always reliant on his speed and reflexes to win, Jones never developed a solid base in boxing fundamentals and, now, as his abilities have diminished with age, he has become a sitting duck for just about every fighter anywhere near world class.
Jones is 5-6 in his last eleven and, among his losses, has suffered three brutal knockouts (against Antonio Tarver, Glen Johnson, and Danny Green) as well as three one-sided decision losses (vs. Joe Calzaghe, Bernard Hopkins, and Antonio Tarver). Meanwhile, all of his wins during this run have been against either faded veterans like Felix Trinidad and Jeff Lacy or overmatched journeymen, such as Omar Sheika, Anthony Hanshaw, and Prince Badi Ajamu.
Now talking with a slight slur and moving in the ring as though burdened with fifteen lb. ankle weights, it's almost painful to watch what Jones has become.
Outside the ring, the swagger is still there. Jones will rap and, generally, talk the talk, but the fans aren't buying it anymore. It's hard to listen to pre-fight bravado from a fighter whose recent efforts have resulted in brain-rattling knockouts and/or passive, one-sided losses. Back in his prime, the fans would eat up Jones' rapper persona, classifying him as the new era Muhammad Ali. Nowadays, most just roll their eyes and move on, treating him like the crazy uncle at Thanksgiving dinner who likes to brag about his athletic prowess, yet can barely lift himself off the sofa.
The big question, though, is whether Jones sticking around well beyond his prime is hurting his legacy as one of the all-time greats. How many times can fans see a legend battered and embarrassed before it starts to override the images of him dominating and thriving? Is it possible to be shocked and awed by a fighter and, in the same lifetime, also feel pity and remorse for that same figure without it affecting his legacy?
Is Roy Jones Ruining His Legacy? In this writer's mind, no. But as the greatness of the prime Jones fades from memory, this new, less-than-stellar version begins to occupy more and more room in our collective unconscious, gradually overshadowing the way he should be remembered.
What you guys think?
http://sports.yahoo.com/box/news;_yl...ug=ycn-8500923
But back in the day, Roy Jones Jr. was untouchable.
It takes a special fighter to be listed among the Top Five all-time greats in two separate weight classes, yet Roy Jones Jr., the boxing phenom from Pensacola, Florida currently has that distinction, as well as a sure-fire first ballot entry into the Hall of Fame.
Outside of his all-time status in the super middleweight and light heavyweight division, consider the fact that he can also boast a world title run at middleweight and an unlikely title grab in the heavyweight division.
Along the way, he beat the likes of Bernard Hopkins, James Toney, and John Ruiz, who counted themselves among the eighteen current, former, or future world champions Jones would defeat over the course of a twenty-two year career.
Putting record and belts aside, Jones just may have been the most physically gifted athlete to ever compete in the sport. To Jones, rattling off eight-punch combinations while easily evading all incoming shots was as effortless as walking through the ropes.
A prime Roy Jones Jr. was laser-fast, razor-sharp, and as dominating a fighter as had ever been seen in boxing. Making fellow first-ballot Hall of Famers like Hopkins and Toney look absolutely pedestrian was a clear indication that Jones was, indeed, something truly special.
Unfortunately, the 1990's Fighter of the Decade is at least seven or eight years past his prime now and his vaunted speed has been reduced to being somewhat average. As a fighter who buttered his bread with almost super human reflexes, Jones has not adapted well to playing within the physical limitations of mere mortals.
Whereas fighters like Hopkins and Toney are still chugging along, finding success well into their forties due to their supreme skill set and technical knowledge, the forty-two year old Jones still fights like he did in his prime— except without the actual athleticism to execute his style.
Always reliant on his speed and reflexes to win, Jones never developed a solid base in boxing fundamentals and, now, as his abilities have diminished with age, he has become a sitting duck for just about every fighter anywhere near world class.
Jones is 5-6 in his last eleven and, among his losses, has suffered three brutal knockouts (against Antonio Tarver, Glen Johnson, and Danny Green) as well as three one-sided decision losses (vs. Joe Calzaghe, Bernard Hopkins, and Antonio Tarver). Meanwhile, all of his wins during this run have been against either faded veterans like Felix Trinidad and Jeff Lacy or overmatched journeymen, such as Omar Sheika, Anthony Hanshaw, and Prince Badi Ajamu.
Now talking with a slight slur and moving in the ring as though burdened with fifteen lb. ankle weights, it's almost painful to watch what Jones has become.
Outside the ring, the swagger is still there. Jones will rap and, generally, talk the talk, but the fans aren't buying it anymore. It's hard to listen to pre-fight bravado from a fighter whose recent efforts have resulted in brain-rattling knockouts and/or passive, one-sided losses. Back in his prime, the fans would eat up Jones' rapper persona, classifying him as the new era Muhammad Ali. Nowadays, most just roll their eyes and move on, treating him like the crazy uncle at Thanksgiving dinner who likes to brag about his athletic prowess, yet can barely lift himself off the sofa.
The big question, though, is whether Jones sticking around well beyond his prime is hurting his legacy as one of the all-time greats. How many times can fans see a legend battered and embarrassed before it starts to override the images of him dominating and thriving? Is it possible to be shocked and awed by a fighter and, in the same lifetime, also feel pity and remorse for that same figure without it affecting his legacy?
Is Roy Jones Ruining His Legacy? In this writer's mind, no. But as the greatness of the prime Jones fades from memory, this new, less-than-stellar version begins to occupy more and more room in our collective unconscious, gradually overshadowing the way he should be remembered.
What you guys think?
http://sports.yahoo.com/box/news;_yl...ug=ycn-8500923
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