By David P. Greisman
The parallax view obfuscates the truth and confuses reality.
Roy Jones Jr. divides boxing fans into rabidly polar segments. An overpopulated sports bar roars with boos when the one-time pound-for-pound great makes his walk to the ring. The other half roars its disdain for Antonio Tarver shortly thereafter. No cheers for either. This is Yankees-Red Sox with light heavyweights, one winner and no wild card playoff entry as consolation prize.
The filthy word, the idea that incites debate or argument, depending on the levels of intoxication and infatuation, is legacy. What this fight, and the trilogy as a whole means for Tarver and Jones, like these three matches, these twenty-six rounds relate more about the make-up of two men than their combined other seventy-four bouts.
The differing opinions that arise are not a result of varying glass-half-empty/glass-half-full perspectives, but the product of a parallax view, an optical shift, an apparent change in the direction of an object that occurs when one changes their observational position.
And hence with each change of position, so goes one’s thoughts on the direction of each man’s legacy, the deciding factor being their respective performances in this past weekend’s rubber match.
Perhaps Roy Jones Jr. coaxed his aging body into one last attempt at virtuosity, bringing back his blazing speed and unconventional style to prove that he was still vintage RJ, not the man who had been on the receiving end of two straight one-punch knockouts.
The fifth round provided one such flashback, with Jones dancing, clowning, showboating in-between potshots, only to get down and dirty with a sweet double hook, a left to the body followed by a slurve to the chin that wobbled Tarver.
If you conclude that this was the Roy that appeared, then you give Tarver his due props for standing back patiently, tactically, letting Jones play to the crowd but ensuring that it was The Magic Man walking away with the victory.
This was the vantage point Jones took after the loss, dishing out respect to Tarver with humility befitting an aging, maturing pugilist that has lately moonlighted as a color commentator.
“I was satisfied with my performance, but I do realize that I lost the fight,” said Jones at the press conference afterwards. “Tarver would have given me all I could handle in my best days as a light heavyweight.”
But not everybody buys into that...
Some see the respect that Tarver showed Jones as a sign of weakness, an inability to cut off the ring against a Jones that was a shadow of the man who won belts in four different weight classes, becoming only the second middleweight to capture a heavyweight title.
The combination that rocked Tarver in round five is exhibit two, a sign that the Jones of the old days would have unleashed prolific combinations and kayoed him with the same kind of panache as the stoppages of Glen Kelly and Montell Griffin.
And they decide that a prime Roy would best a prime Tarver, that despite both being 36-years-old, Jones was old and weary while Antonio was fresher, more able.
There’s some validity to the idea of Jones’s deterioration from ring wear, but the real effect is that it was his defensive skills that waned and eventually cost him.
It’s quite common. As fighters get older, their desire to box, to use energy by eluding punches is seen as wasteful, and they begin to trade punches more with their opponents, getting caught occasionally but triumphing by falling back on instinct and experience.
It can be seen in Jones at least as early as 2002, when Clinton Woods would bull the Pensacola, Fla., native to the ropes and try to unleash fury. Jones outclassed Woods, though, fighting back until the Brit’s corner threw in the towel in the sixth round.
But during the first fight with Tarver, Jones was losing the fight on the ropes, covering up and absorbing punishment, waiting until he could get back to the center of the ring to potshot Antonio and take back the rounds. Jones showed as much heart and determination in grabbing the majority decision as Tarver exhibited in his inconsistency to keep the physical advantage.
Their second bout ended quickly, a perfect left catching Jones and ending the night before the beer could get warm.
Most telling, though, was when Roy came back from the knockout with a poor outing against Glencoffe Johnson. Again, Jones let his opponent get him on the ropes, but this time, Johnson would not relent, smothering him, touching him with anything and everything until a right hook sent him into unconsciousness in the ninth.
Jones’s speed hadn’t gone, nor had his offensive skills. The fast, vicious hooks that he threw to Johnson’s body showed as much, but they were nowhere near enough to remove a hungry, unyielding foe. No, it was just that Jones had just become a minimalist in the same manner as Bernard Hopkins has of late, more content to use his mind than his fists.
Observe how Jones fought Tarver in the third go-around, keeping a distance from Tarver’s power, feinting, circling, ducking and perusing for openings that rarely came. But Tarver was just as patient, jabbing, stalking and then letting out combos whenever Jones’s back found the ropes or the corners.
“I’m not the kind of fighter, like [Glencoffe] Johnson that can brawl,” admitted Jones. “And that’s the way you have to fight to beat Tarver.”
With Buddy McGirt in his corner, Tarver has become a wiser, more strategic boxer, one that needs to be taken off his game in order to be bested. Roy Jones was never a pressure fighter, though, but a counterpuncher whose speedy shots came out of nowhere, knocking his opponents off balance and setting up more openings.
The respect that Tarver had for Jones was not out of fear or weakness, but from intelligence, the knowledge that he had the perfect fight plan, as well as advantages in reach and power. Setting the tempo with a jab, Tarver built up a lead on an economical Jones until Roy needed to push the fight to win. When that moment came, in round eleven, Tarver countered with a right hook to the temple, wobbling Jones severely.
Tarver went in for the kill, and nearly out of the ring with his wild momentum. The kayo didn’t show though, so, winded, Tarver played possum, waiting to see if Jones would make the same mistake.
Jones showed signs of his old self, but throwing and landing about half the punches of Tarver was not going to do it this time around.
For most of his career, Jones stood head and shoulders above his peers with his superior athleticism, embarrassing his foes by making them miss and punishing them for trying. Now, though, Jones is just like every other aging champion who stays in the ring for a bit too long, stands in the pocket when he shouldn’t and gets caught as a result.
Perhaps the losses truly were about desire, and when one no longer has the will to do whatever it takes to win, then it is time to go. And at least this time, Jones has the choice to leave the professional ranks without the specter of going out on his back. Instead, people will remember that he still had the flash, the speed, the sharpness and the skill, but that Tarver was the better man once again.
It’s too bad that Jones will likely fight again, because now, and because of each other, they will be remembered not for their losses or what they were lacking, but for their titles, their talents and their trilogy.
The 10 Count
1. In an entertaining but negligibly relevant heavyweight rematch, Brian Minto knocked out Vinnie Maddalone with what appeared to be a dozen left hooks. But despite the improvements in Minto’s skill set, it is hard for this scribe to forget his firsthand viewing of a 46-year-old, aptly surnamed Tony Tubbs schooling the prospect over ten rounds. Then again, and at the risk of sounding like a broken record, this is the heavyweight division…
2. This is the heavyweight division where Nicolay Valuev and Larry Donald fight for a mandatory shot at John Ruiz. Valuev, a gigantic seven-foot-tall Russian, won a close majority decision over Donald, whose rise in the WBA ranks came thanks to a points victory against Evander Holyfield and a draw with Ray Austin. Valuev is now the number one contender for Ruiz, allowing the speculation of whether “The Quiet Man” would be able to put his trademark headlocks on such a tall opponent.
3. This is the heavyweight division where John Ruiz might first defend his WBA belt against Kevin McBride, an idea as or more egregious as when Vitali Klitschko used an optional defense to unload upon another Tyson-conqueror, Danny Williams. Then again, McBride didn’t exactly conquer Tyson, he just stayed on his feet longer than anyone expected. And then again, Ruiz is the man who lost his WBA belt to James Toney, retired, only to come back and receive his title back when Toney tested positive for steroids.
4. This is the heavyweight division where James Toney can weigh in at 235, the highest of his career, but still school Dominick Guinn, a former prospect-turned-contender whose nickname of “The Southern Disaster” has never been more proper. Thanks to his steroid scandal, Toney can’t fight for the WBA belt until 2007, but it is likely, or at least possible that he will meet his fellow Michigan native, IBF champion Chris Byrd.
5. After all, this is the heavyweight division where Chris Byrd can go 2-0-1 against the murderer’s row of Fres Oquendo, Andrew Golota and Jameel McCline while a case could legitimately be made that he should be 0-3. Needing to make a statement, Byrd instead won a twelve-round snoozer against DaVarryl Williamson, another pitiful excuse for a mandatory heavyweight challenger.
6. But at least this is the heavyweight division with Lamon Brewster, the only of the four beltholders to fight twice this year, and the one with the most desire to look exciting in the process. Brewster went to Germany to face an adopted German on Max Schmeling’s 100th birthday, knocking out Luan Krasniqi in the ninth to retain his WBO belt. It’s a shame that this fight wasn’t televised in this country, and it’s strange that Don King would put his Cinderella Man in such a pumpkin of a situation.
7. Almazbek “Kid Diamond” Raiymkulov looked wretched against Nate Campbell, while Campbell pulled out the performance he needed to save his flagging career. After a controversial draw with Joel Casamayor, Raiymkulov looked destined to put a hurting on Campbell, whose previous fight had been a loss to unheralded Francisco Lorenzo. But Campbell kept countering with rights over Raiymkulov’s jabs, dished out body shots that hurt Kid Diamond more than anything else, and pressed the pace so that, combined with the body work, Raiymkulov was gasping for air from the early rounds. It’s a good thing that the rumors that Top Rank was to feed their rising prospect in Raiymkulov to Floyd Mayweather Jr. never became true; against Campbell, Diamond looked more like coal.
8. Andre Ward beat another squashee, Glen LaPlante. Big whoop. Hockey name aside, this guy’s nickname was “Cave Man,” he looked like Gollum and he got dropped faster than you can say “Tomato Can.”
9. Glencoffe Johnson looked very good in dispatching George Jones, a tenth round stoppage that earns “The Road Warrior” a third bout with IBF light heavyweight titlist Clinton Woods (Johnson is 1-0-1 against Woods, but in the eyes of some should be 2-0), if not a third shot at Antonio Tarver.
The one downside to Johnson’s performance was that he still showed the weakness that Tarver exploited, that active punching could take him off his game and force him to reset his offense. This was not the typical marauding Johnson performance, but rather a slower breakdown that culminated when a hard right left Jones defenseless on the ropes.
If Johnson doesn’t get an immediate rubber match with Tarver, he and his promotional team should do their best to keep him active and in the spotlight, as he as an exciting, skilled fighter, far better than any of the sanctioning bodies’ 175-lb. beltholders.
10. This coming weekend has Corrales-Castillo II, Arce-Hussein II and Bobby Pacquiao-Carlos Hernandez. Quality over quantity, the weekend that we’ve all been waiting months for, and I can’t wait to (presumably) rave about it next week.