"Roy Jones ain't fit to carry my gym bag. I don't like him. I dont like nobody."
-James Toney
He was a great champion. An' he's still a great fighter..."
-Roy Jones
The Strategy:
"Roy Jones ain't fit to carry my gym bag. I don't like him. I don't like nobody."
"Roy Jones never been tested, man," he recited, "he's never been tested by a decent fighter. So how's he gonna live with me. How?" "He's got speed," Toney admitted, "but I'll fight him on the inside. I aint gonna give him no room to use that left hook o' his. He's only got the one hand. The right ain't nothing. An' I'm bigger than him. He aint gonna live with my body shots. Gonna take his legs away, leave him cryin' like one o' his dogs, make that boy my ***** for the night.
HBO deal
Jackie bit a knuckle as she peered over Vegas under a grey November sky.
"Are you more nervous than ususal?" I asked.
"Yes," she sighed. "But we'd be insane if we weren't feeling the nerves bite now. Especially when theres so much on this fight. If we win tonight , were ready to sign the biggest contract anyone, outside of the heavyweight division, has ever been given in boxing.
"I've heard Time-Warner are offering $30,000,000 for five years."
"I can't talk detail. I don't want to think about it untill it's all over and we've won." Jackie shivered. "I'm feeling weirdly superstitous today.I'm scared of putting the jinx on anything..."
The Deal:
Toney and Jones had each turned down guaranteed purse offers from Bob Arum in excess of $2000000 - in favor of taking 80 per cent of the pay per view cut. Each household who tuned in would have to pay $29 for the evenings entertainment. Toney, as champion, would receive 45 per cent, while Jones took 35 per cent of those takings. Arum and the hotel would share what remained and make money in ticket sales and thier ceaseless merchandising. I had already bought the snazzy $19.95 MGM "Uncivil War" T-shirt for my fashobale wife. Each fighter, meanwhile hoped to clear $3000000
Training camp:
For six weeks Toney had struggled to make that 168 lb notch. When he'd started training he had been more than forty pounds overweight. He was bloated with talk of moving up to the light-heavies after Jones. Sometimes, usually before he sneaked in a cheeseburger, he even speculated on his skipping right up to fight the heavyweights he especially fancied. so for him to come in lighter than Jones, the IBF middleweight holder stepping up a division, was considered a crucial piece of psychology. Yet its impact had been distorted by the news that Toney had picked up seventeen pounds in the twenty-four hours following the weigh in. While there was nothing illegal about the world champion stepping into the ring at 184 pounds, it was bewildering that a twenty-six year old fighter, supposedly at his peak, could fluctuate so wildly in weight.
The Decision:
But Toney's pain was not confined just to his swollen eye or bruised body. His His anguish was defined first by numbers on the scorecards-117-110, 119-109 and worst of all,119-108, which meant that one judge had awarded him only one round out of twelve. "And he's only getting that mark for attendance," McIvanney murmured, as we stared across at Toney, stripped of his bravado, hanging his shiny head as Micheal Buffer shouted again,119-108..for the...new..."
The "IBF Super-Middleweight Champion of the world" was swallowed up by the crowd and the jubilant Jones corner.
James Toney had lost for the first time in forty-five fights. He was no longer a world champion. But, more piercingly for him, he was not even a bad man. It looked as if his heart would break as his female mourners moved in to shield him a little, as they huddled around him
The Party:
We waited for him for nearly three hours. I was alone and did not know many of the forty odd family and friends who had been invited to the party. I wanted to leave. It seemed vaguely grotesque, loitering in the hope that Toney might show his beaten face. But at the same time, it was the right thing to do. I felt I owed something to Toney, and to Jackie and Sherry and Sarah, who were still locked with him in his dressing room. The Hours passed and I thought of Jackie saying that Toney was the kind of man who'd rather die than lose. The route to melodrama even tragedy stretched ahead.
But then as as I imagined the worse, he walked through the door, just after midnight, with his manager and mother alongside him and Sarah a few steps behind. He pursed his lips as people started to applause, and then stood still when the clapping strengthened. You could tell that he had made up his mind that he was not going to cry, at least not in front of us.
He let us quieten, and then he said how sorry he was to have lost. "But I take my hat off to Roy Jones," he mumbled.
A very beautiful Sarah put a quivering hand to his mouth, as if to ward of the tears. The silence deepened, for his new humility made us uncertain. It didn't last long. "I gotta also say Jones did a good job of running from my power tonight..."
There were shouts of support; and I smiled at Toney . He deserved that little lie if it was to help him get through the rest of the night. It was the least we could do, to allow him to stitch back some small piece of his shattered ego.
Toney coked his head. "I'll be back," he said sweetly.
Jackie Kallen's family went over to hug him.. The others in the room began to queue politely. They were lining up, as if at a wedding, or more likely a funeral, to shake hands with Toney. I joined in too, at the back, and for the next ten minutes I watched him lean down t o have his cheek kissed by a possession of Jewish sisters and aunts, his back slapped by Kallen brothers and cousins, and his head held by a few of his homeboys. When my turn came I put out my hand. He took it with a wink.
"Hey, boy," he said, "you still here..."
A few more of the elderly ladies returned for another kiss and then Toney broke away for some food. My last memory of that night was an image of him lifting a plate, with Sarah on one arm and Sherry on the other.
His mother puckered her own lips to kiss him. "I;m proud of you, boy," I heard here say gravely.
Roy Jones:
I saw Roy Jones the next morning just after eight, sauntering through the MGM's gigantic foyer. He had just returned from a three mile run. I would not have believed it if I hadn't seen the sheen on him.
"Man, I cant sleep," he sighed. He looked out at the thinning ranks of heavy-duty table gamblers being supplemented by the early-risers on the slot-machines. Rather than attending some fantastic all-night party, Jones said he kept his hurting hands in buckets of ice-water before he and a few friends went out looking for some Kentucky friend Chicken.
"Wow," I said, "some celebration..."
"It might have been man, man," Jones breathed, "but all the KFCs were closed.
I thought this was meant to be a twenty four hour town."
"So did So what did you do?"
We ended up in McDonalds...had some fires. Crazy, huh?"
I thought of the similarly deadpan way Jones had spoken at his first post fight press conference. "Have you spoken to your father yet?" he was asked.
"Nope."
"Will you phone him tonight?" the questioner persisted.
"I spoke to god when I went back to my dressing room. Aint no reason for me to call anyone else.."
"Did Toney bother you with all his talk of killing you?" a new voice queried.
"Man," Jones laughed lightly, a coldness beneath his words, "how could he?" Had we forgotten, his level gaze demanded, that he had already been to hell and back in Pensacola?
I wanted to ask him about his father, too, that early Saturday morning; but it felt wrong. I mentioned Toney instead, wondering if Roy had seen him after the fight.
"Yeah, we spoke a couple of minutes. Things are okay between us. The fights over and done with now..."
"I saw him late last night. They had a small party for him..."
"Good. He showed up?"
"He turned up in the end.."
"How was he?" Jones asked.
" I was surprised. He said a few words, he allowed people to come up and speak to him. He was much better than I'd thought he'd be.."
"That's good. He was a great champion. An' he's still a great fighter..."
"And, best of all," I said,"he was a good guy in the end. He even let all the old white ladies come up and kiss him.."
"Man," Roy Jones said, "I like to think I woulda done the same thing myself."
But then everything changed.
Next:
The end of Team Toney
Toney blames Kallen for the loss and threatens to kill her
"he said he ha the the flu and that I forced him into fighting Roy Jones. At the press conference and at the weigh in he was certainly fit and cocky enough. He thought he was going t o win then. No one made James Toney fight Roy Jones. He's always been the one that says he's the boss, that he calls the shots. So for him to turn around and say that I made him fight is absurd. No one makes that kid to anything"-Jackie Kallen
The Kallen property was quickly surrounded by armed officers as they waited for the fighters arrival.
Sources:
The Dark Trade: lost in boxing by Donald McRae
Toney vs Jones-TVKO version
War, baby: The Glamor of violence by Kevin Mitchell
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