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Mayweather can cash out now, but opts not to
Floyd Mayweather Jr. at the press conference announcing his bout against Ricky Hatton.
By Jon Saraceno, USA TODAY
LAS VEGAS — This is the real fight the world's premier pugilist has remaining, the one where Floyd Mayweather Jr. must decide when to turn his back on the squared circle with arms raised, health and finances intact, legacy cemented. It is the skirmish veteran fighters wage against their minds and often lose.
The greatest boxers sometimes get it horribly wrong, the intoxicating allure of fame and fortune too tempting to resist. These days, thanks to gargantuan paydays generated by pay-per-view sales, money at some point serves as insufficient incentive for getting your face smashed.
As such, the 30-year-old welterweight king can't say what motivates him, even as one tough bloke trains with sufficient intensity and malice across the pond for a fight that could be hyped, "The Brat vs. The Brute." During a visit to England to promote the title bout, Mayweather was confronted by a Ricky Hatton fan who shouted, "Now you're in the lion's den!"
"I am the lion," Mayweather shot back.
He refers to Hatton as "the kid."
Bravado aside, Hatton, 29, is an underdog with enough ring bite to make things interesting in the Dec. 8 fight at the MGM Grand. The aggressive Englishman (43-0) told The Ring, "I'll be on Mayweather like a rash." Already there are indications Mayweather is behind on points when it comes to desire and focus.
"Pretty Boy Floyd" haters may soon get their wish. After beating Oscar De La Hoya in May, Mayweather retired, then changed his mind when they shoved another big payday under his nose for the unbeaten Brit.
"I ask myself that every day," Mayweather says when asked about how he drags himself to the gym, particularly when his training camp is located where he lives, one of the world's most glamorous resort destinations. "My $4 million house is paid for. All my fancy, flashy cars are paid. (I have) eight figures, liquid cash. I ask myself over and over: Why do I keep coming here? I guess it's for the love of the sport.
"That doesn't mean I'm not bored with the sport because I am. I'd be lying if I (said differently). I'm really not into boxing anymore. I think soon I'll hang it up for real. Call me Duncan Hines — I've got enough cake. I'm really not interested in the sport like I used to be, not at all. It's hard to come here every day when I know I can sit at home in a 12,000-square foot mansion and make $100,000 a month."
Instead of rubbing sore knuckles with liniment or getting up to run 5 miles. Last week, Mayweather missed two days of training because his brittle right hand was irritated, the same one he reinjured against De La Hoya. Working with trainer and uncle Roger Mayweather, he went through a spirited hand-mitt session Wednesday, then rested his hand four days.
"It's like a running back who keeps going up the middle; his body is going to break down," says the fighter, unbeaten in 38 fights. "My hands broke down."
"I said I'd retire at 30. Guess what? I've got one fight, and I'm 30. I made the right moves. When you're young and make a lot of money, you do dumb things. I never told anybody, but every night I'd pray, 'Floyd, just have some (money) when your career is over.' "
Friday night, he attended a housewarming bash for Gavin Maloof, co-owner of the Sacramento Kings and The Palms hotel. Mayweather is so busy, he scolded himself for neglecting to wager a planned $40,000 bet on the Red Sox in Game One of the World Series.
Mayweather compares his relative inactivity to a basketball player who stops regularly practicing his skills. "It's like a guy shooting jump shots. If he goes out there every day, he's going to be as sharp as a razor. I'm not as active as I used to be. That's why I push myself to the limit when I come here (to the gym). I don't want to half-train. I give it my all because I've seen when fighters slack, they tend to take that L."
His hardest fight remains his critics. They care neither for his safety-first defensive posture that relies on counterpunching nor his less-than-regal bearing and trash-talking. Of the first, he says, "The less you get hit, the longer you last. Why do you think I've been able to outlast everyone from the '96 (Olympic) team? Smart move. I'm a very good businessman."
He knows controversy sells. Touring England, Mayweather responded to Hatton fans who flipped him the bird by returning the favor. British tabloids gleefully published photographs of his middle-finger salute.
"Basically, I was in a war zone by myself," he says.
Fighters often are surrounded by their entourages, and Mayweather is no different. But at its brutal core, boxing is the loneliest of pursuits. Only Floyd Mayweather Jr. can decide when enough is enough, but the kid from Manchester might offer an important clue.
Floyd Mayweather Jr. at the press conference announcing his bout against Ricky Hatton.
By Jon Saraceno, USA TODAY
LAS VEGAS — This is the real fight the world's premier pugilist has remaining, the one where Floyd Mayweather Jr. must decide when to turn his back on the squared circle with arms raised, health and finances intact, legacy cemented. It is the skirmish veteran fighters wage against their minds and often lose.
The greatest boxers sometimes get it horribly wrong, the intoxicating allure of fame and fortune too tempting to resist. These days, thanks to gargantuan paydays generated by pay-per-view sales, money at some point serves as insufficient incentive for getting your face smashed.
As such, the 30-year-old welterweight king can't say what motivates him, even as one tough bloke trains with sufficient intensity and malice across the pond for a fight that could be hyped, "The Brat vs. The Brute." During a visit to England to promote the title bout, Mayweather was confronted by a Ricky Hatton fan who shouted, "Now you're in the lion's den!"
"I am the lion," Mayweather shot back.
He refers to Hatton as "the kid."
Bravado aside, Hatton, 29, is an underdog with enough ring bite to make things interesting in the Dec. 8 fight at the MGM Grand. The aggressive Englishman (43-0) told The Ring, "I'll be on Mayweather like a rash." Already there are indications Mayweather is behind on points when it comes to desire and focus.
"Pretty Boy Floyd" haters may soon get their wish. After beating Oscar De La Hoya in May, Mayweather retired, then changed his mind when they shoved another big payday under his nose for the unbeaten Brit.
"I ask myself that every day," Mayweather says when asked about how he drags himself to the gym, particularly when his training camp is located where he lives, one of the world's most glamorous resort destinations. "My $4 million house is paid for. All my fancy, flashy cars are paid. (I have) eight figures, liquid cash. I ask myself over and over: Why do I keep coming here? I guess it's for the love of the sport.
"That doesn't mean I'm not bored with the sport because I am. I'd be lying if I (said differently). I'm really not into boxing anymore. I think soon I'll hang it up for real. Call me Duncan Hines — I've got enough cake. I'm really not interested in the sport like I used to be, not at all. It's hard to come here every day when I know I can sit at home in a 12,000-square foot mansion and make $100,000 a month."
Instead of rubbing sore knuckles with liniment or getting up to run 5 miles. Last week, Mayweather missed two days of training because his brittle right hand was irritated, the same one he reinjured against De La Hoya. Working with trainer and uncle Roger Mayweather, he went through a spirited hand-mitt session Wednesday, then rested his hand four days.
"It's like a running back who keeps going up the middle; his body is going to break down," says the fighter, unbeaten in 38 fights. "My hands broke down."
"I said I'd retire at 30. Guess what? I've got one fight, and I'm 30. I made the right moves. When you're young and make a lot of money, you do dumb things. I never told anybody, but every night I'd pray, 'Floyd, just have some (money) when your career is over.' "
Friday night, he attended a housewarming bash for Gavin Maloof, co-owner of the Sacramento Kings and The Palms hotel. Mayweather is so busy, he scolded himself for neglecting to wager a planned $40,000 bet on the Red Sox in Game One of the World Series.
Mayweather compares his relative inactivity to a basketball player who stops regularly practicing his skills. "It's like a guy shooting jump shots. If he goes out there every day, he's going to be as sharp as a razor. I'm not as active as I used to be. That's why I push myself to the limit when I come here (to the gym). I don't want to half-train. I give it my all because I've seen when fighters slack, they tend to take that L."
His hardest fight remains his critics. They care neither for his safety-first defensive posture that relies on counterpunching nor his less-than-regal bearing and trash-talking. Of the first, he says, "The less you get hit, the longer you last. Why do you think I've been able to outlast everyone from the '96 (Olympic) team? Smart move. I'm a very good businessman."
He knows controversy sells. Touring England, Mayweather responded to Hatton fans who flipped him the bird by returning the favor. British tabloids gleefully published photographs of his middle-finger salute.
"Basically, I was in a war zone by myself," he says.
Fighters often are surrounded by their entourages, and Mayweather is no different. But at its brutal core, boxing is the loneliest of pursuits. Only Floyd Mayweather Jr. can decide when enough is enough, but the kid from Manchester might offer an important clue.
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