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By Lyle Fitzsimmons - I got an e-mail from an old friend yesterday.
“I made this statement to a colleague earlier today,” it said.
“Mayweather’s an all-timer. I just thought I'd share.”
Hardly an Earth-shattering proclamation on its own, but in context it represents a dramatic shift.
A music guru who dabbles in boxing, the friend had been an entrenched member of the “OK, Floyd's pretty good, but he's beatable ... and I don't like him” club for as long as I've known him.
He was among the misguided who thought the late Arturo Gatti had a chance to do more than bleed, fall and surrender against Mayweather a few years back in Atlantic City.
And he's included a caveat with every pro-Money pick since, wistfully pining “I'd be happy to be wrong” before admitting that the foe – from Baldomir and Judah to Mosley and Ortiz – had little chance.
The same was true over the weekend.
Bless his heart, my pal approached Saturday night’s main event with his recurring brand of hopeful zeal and he carried it proudly through the ring intros – where the always-sturdy Cotto looked properly grim and clearly contentious upon hearing the “touch gloves” admonition from referee Tony Weeks.
Poor guy, I felt kinda bad for him.
Well... almost.
Because the more I think about it – and regardless of any “I've seen the light” e-mails since – the more I have to shake my head toward anyone who expected anything other than a gutty and effective performance from Mayweather, or cringe at those who walked away from it with anything other than a “Now I get it, Floyd's the best” mindset. [Click Here To Read More]
“I made this statement to a colleague earlier today,” it said.
“Mayweather’s an all-timer. I just thought I'd share.”
Hardly an Earth-shattering proclamation on its own, but in context it represents a dramatic shift.
A music guru who dabbles in boxing, the friend had been an entrenched member of the “OK, Floyd's pretty good, but he's beatable ... and I don't like him” club for as long as I've known him.
He was among the misguided who thought the late Arturo Gatti had a chance to do more than bleed, fall and surrender against Mayweather a few years back in Atlantic City.
And he's included a caveat with every pro-Money pick since, wistfully pining “I'd be happy to be wrong” before admitting that the foe – from Baldomir and Judah to Mosley and Ortiz – had little chance.
The same was true over the weekend.
Bless his heart, my pal approached Saturday night’s main event with his recurring brand of hopeful zeal and he carried it proudly through the ring intros – where the always-sturdy Cotto looked properly grim and clearly contentious upon hearing the “touch gloves” admonition from referee Tony Weeks.
Poor guy, I felt kinda bad for him.
Well... almost.
Because the more I think about it – and regardless of any “I've seen the light” e-mails since – the more I have to shake my head toward anyone who expected anything other than a gutty and effective performance from Mayweather, or cringe at those who walked away from it with anything other than a “Now I get it, Floyd's the best” mindset. [Click Here To Read More]
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