Jones seemingly last to know his competitive fighting days are over
ATLANTA -- The woman at the makeshift press entrance looks haggard as she leafs through a list of names scratched out on sheets of a torn yellow pad and partially ripped-up computer paper.
"I don't have a list for the media," she tells two reporters. "Let me call someone."
Minutes later a member of the promotional team arrives, nodding his head in approval. There are no credentials, just a stamp that is visible only under an ultraviolet light. The reporters are hustled to a table near the ring, where another member of the team shoos away a man who has spread an International Boxing Syndicate title belt across the table. Cheap fog machines are positioned around the ring, an effect that backfires when the poor circulation in the room forces fighters on the undercard to work the first few rounds through a lingering cloud.
That would be fine if this were a club show. Only it's not. This is a show headlined by Roy Jones, the man who has laced up the gloves in front of packed houses anywhere from New York to Biloxi to Las Vegas; who was a three-division champion in the 1990s before moving up to heavyweight and winning a title in 2003; who is regarded as the best fighter of his generation and is on the short list of the best fighters of all time. A decade ago, when Jones was riding high, telling friends he would never stay in boxing too long, this seemed improbable. But now, at 42, Jones continues to soldier on, and there does not appear to be an end in sight.
How did he get here?
For many, it's tough to explain. Jones, former associates say, did everything right in the '90s. He cut a sweetheart deal with HBO -- details of which are in the Scorecard essay in this week's
And he was a rock star. Jones routinely generated the highest ratings on HBO, which is why the network was willing to pay a premium -- and swallow plenty of mismatches -- to keep him there. Former HBO Sports president Seth Abraham tells a story of how he flew with Jones to an awards show after his win over Eric Harding in 2000 and how "everyone wanted a picture taken with Roy."
So where did it go wrong? The music industry, for starters. Jones invested millions in his label, Body Head Entertainment, only to lose it all when the company struggled. He blames music piracy for that. Jones admits that a former accountant once stole from him, and Florida tax records show Jones has had at least six million in liens against his properties. Former associates tell tales of expensive entourages ("Roy had two or three people doing the same job," says one ex-employee) and a lavish lifestyle that siphoned money away quickly.
So he's fighting for the money ... right? In interviews with
But the cold reality is that Jones will likely
But even against low-level competition, Jones did not look good. In front of a sparse crowd at the Atlanta Civic Center, he dominated, but it was mostly because Alexander played the role of sparring partner. Jones rarely put together combinations and the few times he had Alexander in trouble he inexplicably refused to move in and try to finish him off.
Indeed, Jones's performance was so average that you wondered if he would decide to quit. Before the fight Jones said that if he didn't feel he had it against Alexander, he would walk away. He would go back to his commentating gig at HBO -- for which he is paid around $250,000 annually and is universally praised for at the network -- and leave boxing behind forever. But inside a crowded locker room, Jones was ebullient. He says he made a few mistakes but overall he felt like his old self.
"You can see I've still got it," Jones said.
No, there seems to be no stopping Jones now. The man that once told everyone he would never wind up like Gerald McClellan is determined to continue putting himself in situations that could lead to the same horrifying result. His name will guarantee him dates, as fighters like Green and Lebedev are happy to import Jones to their backyards and sell tickets to a fan base that has never seen the once-great star live. But his days as a competitive fighter are over. Nearly everyone seems to understands that but him.