Dear
Evander,
I am a great
admirer of your boxing career. Even though there were a couple nights
throughout the years when I found myself rooting against you, typically you
were this fan's favorite. I have always considered you to be an exceptional
pugilist and a class act. Your boxing career is a unique one, seemingly
scripted by Sylvester Stallone in Rocky-like fashion. You frequently seemed to
be facing insurmountable odds, yet more often than not, you would find a way to
prevail. When you came up short, your efforts were so heroic that even in
defeat you epitomized the essence of a champion.
I have never
idealized you. Your flaws are as apparent as your strengths. To the former,
there are various babies mamas who will attest. But as an athlete, you have
been a consistent source of inspiration and worthy subject of admiration. At
your natural size in your original Cruiserweight division, you were the best
there has ever been. Yet rather than relaxing atop a perch that you could not
be removed from, you moved on to bigger and greater challenges, both
figuratively and literally. Your goal was to become Heavyweight champion of the
world, and although you were often the smaller man in the ring, you usually
displayed the bigger heart. As result, you accomplished your objective no less
than four times over.
Unlike many
pro boxers, fans never got the impression that you took your success for
granted or took any opponent lightly. You always entered the ring in top
shape, were always aggressive from the opening bell, and always continued to
fight hard round after round until there was no more fighting to be done. When
setbacks came, you did not succumb to them. Even when your health appeared to
be the one foe you could not vanquish, you managed to defy the prognosis that
your heart was not up to any more challenges. Your three fight series of
battles versus Riddick Bowe forever defined you, even though Riddick twice
emerged victorious, as one of boxing's all-time great warriors. When you
defeated the Big Bad Wolf known as Mike Tyson back when he was still able to
huff and puff and blow his adversaries away, your legacy was set in stone. And
although you were able to accomplish no more than a draw against Lennox Lewis,
it was apparent to everyone that you were the one perpetually moving in for the
kill while he used his considerable height and reach advantage to keep you at
bay. He got to keep his belts, but you were never shortchanged the respect that
you earned from us.
Winning your
fourth Heavyweight championship belt against John Ruiz should have been enough
to satisfy your great ambition, just as beating Leon Spinks should have been
enough to make Muhammad Ali retire for good way back when. At 42 years of age,
with millions of dollars in your bank account rather than mostly diverted into Don
King's, you ought to be content looking back on what was a remarkable career.
They say it is difficult for many boxers, even those fortunate few with
financial security, to leave the sport gracefully. Lennox Lewis proved to be
the exception to this rule by going out on top even as challengers called him
out daily. There was nothing left for him to prove, just a life of leisure
outside the ring that he was anxious to move on to. But for every Lennox Lewis,
there are far more boxers who fight well beyond the day that their reflexes
have considerably dulled.
Evander, you
are stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the obvious and concede that your best
days are behind you. You have set out to once again become the undisputed
Heavyweight champion of the world. Your opponents know this will not be
happening. You have ceased to strike fear into them. Your most avid fans have
accepted that a new era in the heavyweight division has dawned, and you are not
part of that picture. They are not being disloyal, merely realistic. Two of
your previous trainers have said that they wish you would retire. They have
only your best interests at heart. Critics state both plainly and eloquently
that the time has come for you to hang up your mitts. They're merely calling
things as they see them. As we have come to learn about you over the years
however, the more vocally people proclaim that a task is beyond your ability to
achieve, the more passionately you strive to prove them wrong. The strength of
your conviction has become your greatest weakness, because there is no
convincing you that on any given night in the ring, you cannot summon the
skills from your younger days and deliver another performance for the ages. The
same belief in self that allowed you to become a champion is now the danger you
are unable to protect yourself from.
Boxing is a
young man's game, yet it has had its share of late bloomers. You are three
years younger than George Foreman was in 1994 when he regained the world
heavyweight title. Archie Moore was competitive at a ripe age, as is Bernard
Hopkins currently. Perhaps this motivates you. If so, please consider looking
elsewhere for inspiration. After James Toney came up in weight and gave you a
boxing clinic, I thought that would be the last time I ever saw you in the
ring. I thought your body would rebound, but your pride had been damaged beyond
repair. I was wrong about that, just as you are wrong not to see that you are
not the fighter you used to be. Last weekend you fought 37 year old journeyman,
Larry Donald. Although a credible fighter, he has been dominated every time
he's tried to move up in class against a quality opponent. There was a time
when you would have considered him barely worthy to be one of your sparring
partners. Yet you were thoroughly dominated by an average fighter whose best
days are behind him. The scorecards had you winning no more than a single
round. Ringside stats credited Larry Donald with landing 216 punches, compared
with only 78 landed by you. You looked old and uncoordinated and slower than
molasses running uphill. You have won only twice in your last nine fights. Yet
when the inevitable question was asked, you once again insisted that you will
not call it quits until regaining the heavyweight title.
There is
nothing left for your fans to do but fear for the worst. They know what
happened to Greg Page, a former champion who now views the world from his
wheelchair. Eventually a younger, bigger, quicker, stronger man will make a
name for himself at your expense, and you will be carried out of the ring not
on your shield, but on a stretcher. If lucky, the damage inflicted on you will
be short term. But luck is very fickle, particularly in boxing, and perhaps
you've already used up your share.
Consider
becoming a boxing commentator. One of the television or cable networks may be
interested in creating a reality TV show about your exploits after boxing - The
Real Deal World. If Ron Artest is qualified to record a rap album, then surely
you're qualified to record a gospel album. It's never too late to take acting
lessons and go knocking on
Evander, you appreciate nothing as much as a challenge, the more difficult the better, so I pose this one to you. Show us that you possess the mental, spiritual, and intellectual strength to walk away from the ring now. Prove to us that you are not just another stereotypical fighter determined to have a punch drunk future because you cannot let go of your glorious past. We'll always remember you as one of the great ones. We are already suitably impressed by your accomplishments. Your résumé will reserve a place for you in boxing's Hall of Fame. So please exercise some wisdom rather than muscle and show us that you truly are the Real Deal, not merely another real tragedy.
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