Roy Jones JR – Tragedy in the Making
By Mike Plunkett
It’s been said that at its best, boxing is an art form. When I pull out my copy of Muhammad Ali’s 1966 virtuoso performance at the Huston Astrodome I am reminded of this. Over the years other great fighters such as a primetime Sandy Saddler, a top-of-his-game Pernell ‘Sweet Pea’ Whitaker or a young ‘Sugar’ Ray Leonard, among others, also left us with similar examples of exacting artistic ring craft.
It’s a rare but distinct point of wonder; the swift seamless offerings that captivated me years ago beyond the bold proclamations, the assumed promise of extraordinary in-the-ring character and at-times raw brutality. Every so often a special fighter comes along with unique ability and smoothness such that it resembles art and almost seems supernatural. Watching such a performer, one is quickly reminded that grace, poise and exacting swiftness are not traits limited to the dance floor. It can apply in some cases where the correct blend of God-given athleticism and years of practice are fused with personal determination and the confidence that comes with it.
The names I threw at you earlier all attained a distinct level of ‘ring artistry’ at some point during their respective Hall of Fame careers, and while they weren’t necessarily by-the-book fundamentalists in their heyday, that something special they brought to the equation, the ‘supernatural’ aspect of their respective skill sets made them seem virtually untouchable and beautiful to watch. How well they nailed down the key fundamentals of their trade on the way up determined how well they’d do or how long they’d last on the way down; during the autumn of their career, a period marked by burning desire, character and so often the denial of reality.
Roy Jones JR so very long ago attained a level of ring artistry such that in his heyday he was deemed virtually untouchable. So awesome was his level of confidence he spoke of his opponents with monotone indifference, as though yet another victory was a foregone conclusion. This wasn’t disrespect bleeding through, just the self assuredness and conceit that comes with knowing you have been blessed with skills a full few levels beyond those around you, and that the years of toil polishing those skills had been diligently put in and that as a fighter, everything was in place to move forward with nothing but success.
Jones would enter a ring, flash the kind of hand and foot speed that suggested he was in a different time zone and work his foes until they either crumbled from a sudden explosive delivery or they’d systematically fall apart. And he did this in such a way that as early as 1990, just a year or so after he had first turned professional, some believed him ready to win a world championship with less than ten bouts under his belt. By 1993 Jones had reached the pinnacle of his abilities. His first world title was won at a point where some might argue he was ‘green’ from an experience standpoint, but in reality he was physically as superb as he would ever be, and at his very best weight. He cruised to a unanimous decision win for the vacant IBF middleweight title over an equally ‘green’ Bernard Hopkins, with an injured hand no less, in a fashion that if not blinding, stands as being swift and clinical even when reviewed under the harshest microscope. That first title win set the mark for his future endeavors while having a delayed message on just who he was and what we saw that night; a message that over the course of almost two decades underlines the scope of Roy’s abilities at the height of his powers, given Hopkins’ lofty achievements in the years since their first encounter.
In November 1994 Jones won his second major world title, this time at super middleweight, with a comprehensive shut-out of sure-fire future Hall of Fame inductee James ‘Lights Out’ Toney. So thorough was his performance on that night, Toney, a future four division world champion in his own right, would be reduced to fistic impotence. Years later as Jones grew he unified the alphabet titles at light heavyweight, but not before a chink appeared in his armor. He was troubled greatly by the talented Montell Griffin, a smooth and fundamentally sound boxer with a complicated style who handed him his first defeat, and later in 1998, floored by the hard hitting southpaw Lou Del Valle while unifying the WBA and WBC alphabet titles. Jones was still in his prime but he had come down ever so slightly from his lofty perch of just four years previous, facing naturally bigger men and at a weight that presumed to take something from his timing, if ever so minutely. In June 1999 Jones gave what I felt was his last spectacular performance by utterly outclassing the talented Reggie Johnson. He looked unbeatable on that night, making the talented Johnson, a two-division champion seem almost like a novice before unifying all of the light heavyweight belts. After that milestone, I perceived a ‘flatness’ in Jones but looking back, it may in fact been more of a case of Father Time doing a spot check.
In 2003 Jones amazed just one last time. He climbed out of the box and took on John Ruiz, a much larger natural heavyweight with unusual toughness and an underrated right hand. He bulked up to an official weight of 193lbs but when he entered the ring it is said that he actually scaled 199lbs. Over the full distance Jones baffled the far less talented Ruiz, relieving him of the WBA heavyweight title while painting for all time a masterpiece. That was the last time we saw Roy Jones JR the artist, the master; ‘Superman’.
In the years since that lofty moment Roy has become increasingly human with each successive ring appearance. The varying levels of his foes notwithstanding (a few have been terrific such as Antonio Tarver, Glen Johnson, Joe Calzaghe and one great in an ancient Bernard Hopkins), Jones returned to the light heavyweight division in an ill-advised way, shedding approximately 20lbs of lean mass, a move that exacerbated his decline. Struggling to cover old ground against a talented and determined foe in Tarver, Jones used-up what was left of his former self grinding it out to eke out a win of his old WBC light heavyweight title. From there, the descent has been incredibly steep and seemingly sudden; shocking knockout losses to Tarver in the rubber match and nine prayer-inducing minutes on the canvas in an emphatic loss to Glen Johnson. The latter knockout convinced me that not only was Jones finished and that he no longer possessed any of the skills he had as a ring artist just a handful of years earlier, he was effectively shell-shocked and no longer physically able to withstand punishment despite his level of fitness and conditioning.
In 2006 Roy embarked on a tour designed to do two things; sharpen what remained of his skills with a series of bouts against B and C class opposition and create positive perception (read: illusion) among the fan base while working his way to another date with destiny. This thrust culminated with a thorough twelve round shellacking at the hands of Welshman Joe Calzaghe for the WBO light heavyweight title. After sporadic moments of looking like the fighter he once was, at one point flooring the champion in the 1st round, Jones revealed himself to be a mere shell of what he once was. He took a frightful pounding in dropping a wide unanimous decision. A year and two illusory wins later, Jones was stopped halfway through the 1st round by the naturally larger and vastly inferior Danny Green in Australia, a determined heavy-handed pug somewhat arguably propped-up on his own right, nevertheless the sort that couldn’t have hit Jones in the ass with a handful of rice a decade earlier.
In April 2010 Roy Jones JR and Bernard Hopkins gave the world the rematch that had been kicked around for years, only it came about eight years too late. I winced as an old looking Hopkins beat Jones like a rented mule. Both looked bad but Jones looked more than just bad, he looked absolutely terrible. I hoped and prayed common sense would prevail and that after a spell of soul searching he would take his millions and walk away, but boxing is so often a cruel theater and willing caterer to the deluded.
A few months ago word traveled quickly through the sport that Roy Jones JR had shockingly began to exhibit the signs of a long career in the ring. Word had it that he was experiencing issues with balance in his regular day to day life. Consensus opinion was that he had hung on too long and that the damage of a long ring career was playing out on no uncertain terms. Subsequent appearances on HBO as an analyst seemed to suggest the opposite. He looked healthy, handsome and his delivery was crisp and his thinking clear. But in recent weeks an announcement was made that Jones would be resuming his ring career, suggesting evidence to the contrary that his health had been compromised as previously reported.
As of this writing, Roy is scheduled to face Russian southpaw Denis Lebedev, a talented and unusually tough natural cruiserweight known for his strength, remarkable punching power and relentless aggressive attack. At age 31 Lebedev is over a decade younger and far fresher than Jones who at 42 years of age can be considered barely a fraction of the fighter he once was. I believe Jones decision to face Lebedev is in fact evidence that his thinking processes have been altered and that he is beyond deluded, his reasoning and judgment are impaired. Lebedev is stronger and more talented than Danny Green, the cruiserweight that clubbed Roy into a haze just over a year ago. He is an aggressive puncher not entirely devoid of skill. I see this match playing out very badly for the shadow of ‘Superman’ and expect matters to end before the 1st round has seen three minutes. If I am wrong, it just gets all the worse for Jones; he is shell-shocked and any sustained punishment will spill out incrementally in the years to come.
The Roy Jones JR story should have ended in November 2003 when he struggled to eke past a less talented fighter to cover old and relatively meaningless ground. The circuitous nature of his post-heavyweight career notwithstanding, Jones lacked the developed boxing technique and fundamentals to flourish after his supernatural skill set left him. The subtle style adjustments required for him to remain successful past his prime years weren’t possible given that he had never mastered or perfected the fundamentals of boxing in his youth. God-given athleticism and uncanny radar smoothed over the holes in his game. When his game wound down those holes became apparent, and as Father Time made good on the collecting of dues those holes became craters. The Denis Lebedev fight and ambition to move forward in a career with nowhere left to go is beyond ill-advised, it is flat-out dangerous. Boxing at its best for Roy Jones JR existed just over fifteen years ago. In those days it was art, today it is tragedy.