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No Glove Lost
Roy Jones Jr.'s hands don't flash with the lightning rapidity they used to. The days in which he could stand in front of an opponent and make him miss time and again, or stick out his chin with his hands behind his back, then produce a knockout with a punch from seemingly nowhere, are in the past.
At his peak, Jones seemed impossible to hit and barely lost a single round. But he has lost five of his past 10 fights, three of them by knockout, the most recent a first-round stoppage by unheralded Danny Green.
But some things never change, and Jones still knows how to talk a good fight. His words tumbled out in a familiar rapid-fire monotone as we talked on the phone Monday about his upcoming rematch with Bernard Hopkins at the Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas on April 3.
"He don't like me," Jones said of his longtime rival Hopkins, whom he defeated by decision for the vacant IBF middleweight title in 1993. "And I'm glad he don't like me. I got no dislike for him. I don't really care, one way or the other. But it is definitely true. He does not like Roy Jones. He hates he couldn't beat Roy Jones in his prime, in his heyday, and he hate Roy Jones for that, he hate that I overshadowed him in his prime, and he has not liked me from that day forward. Because I even overshadowed him in our older days, too. He never got to be Roy Jones. He always wanted to be like me, in charge of his own career, in charge of his own destiny, and he's not. Without Golden Boy, he's nobody. So he ain't never gonna like me. But that's too bad."
A lot of water has passed under the bridge since that first meeting. Back then, Barack ***** was a lawyer in Chicago, the Internet was a rumor and a telephone's place was on the wall, not in your pocket. If there was that much venom, why wait for a rematch until both men were ready to take their places in the Happy Valley Retirement Home?
"Because he didn't want to fight me again," Jones answered, unhesitatingly throwing the blame in Hopkins' direction. "He didn't want to fight me again until he felt like I was at the end of my career, and I had deteriorated and slowed down a bit. So he wouldn't fight me until he saw a weakness in my arsenal, until he looked at me and thought, 'OK, now Roy's finished, now I'll take him.' He wasn't going to fight me until he thought I was done. Now he feels like I'm done, so he'll fight me now. It ain't no big thing to figure out."
They came close once, after Hopkins had defeated Felix Trinidad in 2001, and before Jones stepped up to heavyweight to take the WBA title from John Ruiz on an historic night in Las Vegas. But the deal fell apart over the distribution of wealth, about which Jones remains unapologetic.
"He had Don King promoting him at the time," Jones said. "He was like, 'I need 50-50 [purse split] because I got to pay Don King.' I'm like, 'You're not the draw. I am. If you got to pay Don, that's not my fault. You want to take 40-60, we can do that all day long. But it got to be 60-40 not 50-50, because I'm the draw, not him. Even today, I'm still the draw. They want to see me, they don't want to see him. They want to see which me is going to show up. They don't care which him is going to show up. He ain't got but one him."
For all the personal enmity, there is professional respect. "He's dangerous and he's smart," Jones said.
Still, there isn't even a hint of uncertainty that he will deny Hopkins his shot at revenge.
"I'm loving it. I'm so loving it," Jones said. "I love the fact that he hate me so bad. He hate me so bad, but he still never chose to get back in the ring with me. So he don't hate me as much as he say he do. But just as much as he hates me, he also fears me. And that's why he hates me, because he fears me, and he hate to fear another man. That's why he hate me. Because he's afraid of me. I strike fear into his heart.
"He gonna hate me twice as bad as he do right now."
Roy Jones Jr.'s hands don't flash with the lightning rapidity they used to. The days in which he could stand in front of an opponent and make him miss time and again, or stick out his chin with his hands behind his back, then produce a knockout with a punch from seemingly nowhere, are in the past.
At his peak, Jones seemed impossible to hit and barely lost a single round. But he has lost five of his past 10 fights, three of them by knockout, the most recent a first-round stoppage by unheralded Danny Green.
But some things never change, and Jones still knows how to talk a good fight. His words tumbled out in a familiar rapid-fire monotone as we talked on the phone Monday about his upcoming rematch with Bernard Hopkins at the Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas on April 3.
"He don't like me," Jones said of his longtime rival Hopkins, whom he defeated by decision for the vacant IBF middleweight title in 1993. "And I'm glad he don't like me. I got no dislike for him. I don't really care, one way or the other. But it is definitely true. He does not like Roy Jones. He hates he couldn't beat Roy Jones in his prime, in his heyday, and he hate Roy Jones for that, he hate that I overshadowed him in his prime, and he has not liked me from that day forward. Because I even overshadowed him in our older days, too. He never got to be Roy Jones. He always wanted to be like me, in charge of his own career, in charge of his own destiny, and he's not. Without Golden Boy, he's nobody. So he ain't never gonna like me. But that's too bad."
A lot of water has passed under the bridge since that first meeting. Back then, Barack ***** was a lawyer in Chicago, the Internet was a rumor and a telephone's place was on the wall, not in your pocket. If there was that much venom, why wait for a rematch until both men were ready to take their places in the Happy Valley Retirement Home?
"Because he didn't want to fight me again," Jones answered, unhesitatingly throwing the blame in Hopkins' direction. "He didn't want to fight me again until he felt like I was at the end of my career, and I had deteriorated and slowed down a bit. So he wouldn't fight me until he saw a weakness in my arsenal, until he looked at me and thought, 'OK, now Roy's finished, now I'll take him.' He wasn't going to fight me until he thought I was done. Now he feels like I'm done, so he'll fight me now. It ain't no big thing to figure out."
They came close once, after Hopkins had defeated Felix Trinidad in 2001, and before Jones stepped up to heavyweight to take the WBA title from John Ruiz on an historic night in Las Vegas. But the deal fell apart over the distribution of wealth, about which Jones remains unapologetic.
"He had Don King promoting him at the time," Jones said. "He was like, 'I need 50-50 [purse split] because I got to pay Don King.' I'm like, 'You're not the draw. I am. If you got to pay Don, that's not my fault. You want to take 40-60, we can do that all day long. But it got to be 60-40 not 50-50, because I'm the draw, not him. Even today, I'm still the draw. They want to see me, they don't want to see him. They want to see which me is going to show up. They don't care which him is going to show up. He ain't got but one him."
For all the personal enmity, there is professional respect. "He's dangerous and he's smart," Jones said.
Still, there isn't even a hint of uncertainty that he will deny Hopkins his shot at revenge.
"I'm loving it. I'm so loving it," Jones said. "I love the fact that he hate me so bad. He hate me so bad, but he still never chose to get back in the ring with me. So he don't hate me as much as he say he do. But just as much as he hates me, he also fears me. And that's why he hates me, because he fears me, and he hate to fear another man. That's why he hate me. Because he's afraid of me. I strike fear into his heart.
"He gonna hate me twice as bad as he do right now."
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