By Jake Donovan
It was a decade or so ago when veteran writer and broadcaster Steve Farhood, then the editor for Ring magazine, held court during Boxing Hall of Fame weekend in Canastota, New York. Among the questions floated his way inquired who his favorite fighter was.
In his best efforts to profess his objectivity, Farhood’s answer was simple and vague, yet oh so brutally honest.
“My favorite fighter is anyone who returns my phone calls.”
It’s the easiest way to any writer’s heart, certainly the best way to guarantee positive ink, no matter your line of work.
Fighters perhaps more so than stars of any other sport, understand and for the most part embrace the concept of self-promotion, and maintaining that level of intimacy with those who cover their careers. But every so often, there are those who rebel against the system, conducting their business as if their skills are enough to keep their names in lights.
Roy Jones Jr fell under the latter category for much of his career, including his decade-long stay at or near the top of most pound-for-pound rankings. What you saw was all that you got with Roy. Efforts to get to know him better were limited to segments provided by HBO preceding his fights, or if he chose to spit a little knowledge beyond what was taking place in the ring on those nights he spent behind the mic during Boxing After Dark telecasts.
It’s hard to picture such a version of Roy if you’re paying close enough attention to the pre-fight hype surrounding his superfight with Joe Calzaghe this weekend, to be staged at New York City’s famed Madison Square Garden (Saturday, HBO PPV, 9PM ET/6PM PT).
Few stones remained unturned in what has now become the final days leading up to what many regard as his last shot at regaining past glory. Regular journal entries have been posted on ESPN.com. HBO’s award-winning 24/7 series has gained unlimited access to his life. He’s even on time for media functions these days.
Where, oh where was this Roy Jones a decade, hell even three years ago?
Many in the media have suggested than a more accommodating Roy would’ve been given the benefit of the doubt during a time where his competition was, while respectable and still on a higher level than most, considerably short of taking on all comers. For far too long (more than eight years, to be exact), the best fights at 168 and 175 weren’t taking place on his watch, nor did he care to justify his actions beyond the in-the-ring results, leading many to brandish Jones with the nickname “Mandatory Roy.”
Some of it was beyond his control – most of the best of the rest resided on the other side of the Atlantic, demanding nothing short of a king’s ransom to travel stateside for a crack at the best fighter not just in their division, but on the entire planet. But when you’re that good – and in his prime, few in boxing history could claim the skill set Roy possessed – neither critics nor fans wanted to hear excuses as to why he didn’t boast the resume to match.
So long as he kept winning, his base would remain divided. Some were dazzled by the virtuoso performances he repeatedly turned in, once described by HBO’s lead announcer Jim Lampley as “Picasso with boxing gloves.” Others grew tired of waiting on Roy to break away from the string of mandatory defenses that replaced the far more desired matchups many felt were well within reach.
Offered even less was any other side of Roy than what took place in the ring or behind the mic. Efforts were made by many, but the best they could pass on was his life in small moments. Jones, by his own admission today, was far too unwilling to let others in. He just wanted to box, and let his private life be just that – private.
The alternatives offered could be compared to Senator John McCain’s campaign strategy down the stretch – constantly hitting the reset button every time an idea failed to catch on. We were first given “just a country boy” Roy. No nickname or sideshow gimmicks necessary.
But when more was asked, the script was flipped. When asked to challenge himself, we were given Roy the basketball player. In his best efforts to emulate past two-sport athletes Bo Jackson and Deion Sanders, Roy became the first to participate in a pro basketball game (albeit minor league) and a professional prize fight on the same calendar day.
That was the beginning of Reinvention Roy. Soon thereafter came the gimmicks – press conferences an hour before a title defense. Wired for sound during a fight. Roy the rapper. Roy the promoter. The “RJ” alter-ego. All were offered for the sake of in-the-moment conversation piece, none carrying any long-term relevance.
While remaining an introvert outside of the ring, Jones in 2003 finally gave the people what they wanted inside the ring – fights outside of his comfort zone. In consecutive fights, Jones soundly defeated John Ruiz to win an alphabet title at heavyweight, then drop back down two divisions to outpoint Antonio Tarver, universally regarded at the time as the top light heavyweight not named Roy Jones.
On paper, the achievements should’ve easily put him in the running for Fighter of the Year honors. In reality, his cause was met with as much resistance as he gave in lending support to the promotion of either event.
Ruiz, who forewent a minimum purse and fought strictly for incentives for the sake of making the fight, made much noise of his carrying the promotion, at least from the standpoint of appearances. Tarver was forced to do the heavy lifting for all three of his fights with Jones; Roy not only skipped press conferences, but was also a no-show for media conference calls, usually the best, if not only, chance of extracting quotes from fighters while in training camp.
Not even three consecutive losses, one of which featured the absence of a single major sportswriter at ringside, could get Jones to change his stripes. Even while on the comeback trail, intimate access to Roy remained limited. Wins over Prince Badi Ajamu and Anthony Hanshaw headlined separate shows resulting in career lows at the PPV box office, with little interest expressed by the network that helped make him rich beyond his wildest dreams.
The win over Hanshaw did little to capture the imagination of fans, many of whom grew depressed over the pound-for-pound king they once knew, instead calling for the retirement of the man who had become a shell of his former self.
However, Roy decided there was still plenty of fight left in him. Three months after struggling to outpoint Hanshaw, Jones agreed to once again dance with Don King. The absence of such an alliance contributed to the failure of producing notable fights at 160 and 168 more than a decade prior, but Jones had reached the “beggars can’t be choosers” phase of his career.
The reward justified the dance with the devil – a multi-million dollar payday with Felix Trinidad. It was as close to a win-win scenario as Jones would ever face – a high-profile fight for a huge payday, against a faded former great who would not only end a 32-month hiatus from the ring, but also fight 10 lb. beyond his career in-ring heaviest.
All it required was for Jones to give in to two demands he spent much of his career avoiding – granting King options on his career; and as much public access as King believed was necessary to hype up the fight.
For more than a month, Jones was forced to endure a different type of challenge: matching wits with one of the sport’s most charismatic personalities in Felix Trinidad. Not even a language barrier could deny Tito the bond he continues to share with fans throughout the sport. Jones, on the other hand, was breaking new ground.
Slowly but surely, Roy became more accustomed to shaking hands and kissing babies. By January ’08, Jones was reborn. Not necessarily the version in the ring, though there was little to nitpick about his dominant, two-knockdown blowout of Trinidad in their pay-per-view headliner that drew over 500,000 buys. But while the skill level will never again be what it once was, what was on display that evening, as well as the months leading to the event, was a spectacle that’s been absent for far too long: Roy having fun in and out of the ring.
With three straight wins in the bank and a reminder of what he still brings to the table when packaged correctly, Jones kicked every facet of his career in a new direction.
No longer will Square Ring serve as a shell promotional company; John Wirt was brought in as CEO earlier this year, and jumped in with both fight in attempting to turn the company into a promotional powerhouse.
As evidenced by the hassle-free negotiations that led to his forthcoming light heavyweight fight with Roy Jones, no longer does the risk cancel out the potential reward.
And as evidenced on camera and in the media in recent months, no longer does he run in the opposite direction when approached by anyone with audio/video equipment in tow.
Cynics will snicker at the latest and greatest version of Roy, insisting that it’s too little too late, just another last ditch effort to atone for past slights.
For a change, and thankfully for this promotion, the cynics are outnumbered by the optimists.
Whether it’s the additional exposure, Jones’ newfound “nothing to lose” approach to the sport or perhaps so many previously undefeated fighters watching their “0” go this year, more than a few fans believe that yet another upset will emerge.
Whatever happens this weekend, Jones helped make the ride that much more enjoyable, all but carrying the promotion on this side of the pond. After years of ignoring the old adage “never pick a fight with those who buy ink by the barrel,” Roy Jones has finally emerged as a sentimental favorite among the media. Proof enough that he aligned himself with another group he avoided for far too long - the ones who return phone calls.
Jake Donovan is a voting member of the Boxing Writers Association of America. Comments/questions can be submitted to JakeNDaBox@gmail.com .
