Floyd Mayweather Jr.
In the endless nuance, childish pride, and politics of the most-publicly and endlessly negotiated sporting event in human history, semantics matter. More than the money, more than the fight, more than legacy.
Floyd, you’re great. While I can’t concede the greatest, and I wince when you compare yourself favorably to The Greatest (Muhammad Ali), I’ll give it that you’re the best of your time.
By every account, Manny Pacquiao has agreed to every nuance of Floyd Mayweather Jr.’s demands, including rampant PED testing, a smaller share of the epic purse, and a lower perch on the glittering marquee.
With more dueling monologues than a presidential campaign, it’s sounding more and more like Floyd Mayweather Jr. and Manny Pacquiao will fight next year.
Since we are upon our great day of gratitude, a pretext for gorging on poultry and then taking our swollen torsos to the nearest television for some football, let’s look to sports for reasons to give thanks.
The pot wasn’t real. Neither, admitted Floyd Mayweather Jr., was much else that went on in the cable television reality shows promoting his latest fight.
There’s a little something for everyone this weekend in Las Vegas.
If boxing is to save its vitality, it needs vital boxers to fight each other. Seems simple enough, an athletic algorithm that serves the sport and its fans.
It’s been awhile since Floyd Mayweather Jr. used the nickname “Pretty Boy.”
Floyd Mayweather Jr. could earn up to $70 million for fighting for only 36 minutes.