Oh, how things change. One moment you’re on top of the world, praised endlessly for all your feats and accomplishments, but the next thing you know, the same people who once exalted you, suddenly reduce your character to bits and shreds. All of a sudden, the supporters become doubters who slash at your reputation and question your merits. It’s only natural this process leads one to self-doubt. In regards to four-division champion Roy Jones Jr., who after three straight losses is going to challenge Prince Badi Ajamu for a not a world, but a regional light heavyweight title in Boise, Idaho on July 29, every question begins and ends with the boxing ring.
The boxing world has always known Jones (49-4, 38 KOs) as a special fighter. Even at the amateur level, he displayed an array of skills well beyond his age. Despite being robbed of the gold medal in the 1988 Olympics, he turned pro and compiled a formidable record before ultimately out-slicking Bernard Hopkins for his first world title, at middleweight in 1993. The victory was clear to everyone: Roy Jones Jr. was here to stay for a long time.
Jones moved up to super middleweight soon afterwards and continued dazzling audiences worldwide with his incredible athleticism and ring generalship in championship bouts against Thomas Tate, James Toney, and Vinny Pazienza. As he made the transition to light heavyweight, he kept gaining millions and extending his fan base by defeating the top contenders in the division (Mike McCallum, Montell Griffin, Virgil Hill, Eric Harding, and Clinton Woods) quite handily.
By then, there were talks of Roy Jones Jr. being the greatest fighter since Sugar Ray Leonard. Scratch that. The greatest since Muhammad Ali, even Sugar Ray Robinson. He made everything look so easy in the ring. His unique blend of superb reflexes and ring savvy baffled even the toughest opponents. Who else could go an entire round without being hit? Who else could touch their shoe and punch a fighter all in one motion?
Yes, Roy Jones Jr. was flawless. He was untouchable. His victory over John Ruiz in March 2003 for a portion of the heavyweight title only cemented his status as a living legend and the best pound-for-pound fighter in the world. Everything seemed to be right with the world then. But in a blur, that world was turned upside down.
After the Ruiz fight, Jones decided to move back down to light heavyweight to face Antonio Tarver in November 2003. Though he narrowly avoided defeat, many were shocked that Jones had looked so sluggish, so ordinary. And for the first time in his career, it was widely believed that Jones’ superhuman skills might have actually failed him.
Six months later, as he readied for his rematch versus Tarver, nearly everyone in the sport overlooked Jones’ last bout. They knew he would be back to his old self in the rematch. He was too talented to struggle the way he did in the first fight. The first fight had been an aberration. It had simply taken place on a bad night. The rematch would be much different.
It was, but not in the way Jones might have hoped. In just four and a half minutes, Tarver avenged his loss with a crushing knockout of Jones Jr. in the second round. For days after the knockout, no one could believe what had happened. Roy Jones Jr. had lost. He had been knocked out.
In the following weeks, Jones stated he would take a comeback fight against Glen Johnson in hopes of redeeming his career and regaining the light heavyweight title. Everyone knew he could do it. This was Roy Jones Jr. after all. He was facing a good fighter, but one with nine losses. Nine losses. There was no way he could possibly lose.
But he did, and this time in a more brutal fashion than the Tarver rematch.
Against Johnson, Jones didn’t just lose by knockout—he was knocked out cold in a fight he was never in to begin with. That night, Jones no longer floated around the ring gracefully, firing blazing hooks, throwing his foe off balance. That night he seemed like a fighter deteriorated by age, a shell of his former self. He looked uncomfortable in the ring now. That same ring, his friend of many years, which he grew up with, suddenly seemed like an unknown stranger. After bringing him fame and fortune, the ring seemed to be betraying him. The very same place where he once outclassed, punished, and embarrassed opponents was now the place where everyone swore he might suffer a life-threatening injury if he ever decided to fight again.
And so, Roy Jones Jr. suffered a mocked exile. His knockout losses became a parody among some rabid fans. Many in the press believed this is what he deserved for having been so cocky, so nonchalant throughout his career. This is what he got for having skipped all those press conferences in the past. This is what he got for thinking he could pursue a career in hip-hop. He should have never moved down from heavyweight back to light heavyweight. What was he thinking? Detractors began claiming he had never been that good in the first place. Why, he had never even bothered to face Dariusz Michalczewski. The all-time great light heavies, Michael Spinks, Ezzard Charles and Archie Moore would have surely destroyed him. He had lost his dedication to the sport years ago, they maintained. Yes, this Roy Jones Jr. fellow was washed up. He was shot. He didn’t matter anymore.
A year later, Jones announced he would fight a rubber match with Tarver in October 2005, but very few seemed to care. The media insisted he could seriously be hurt by Tarver—his psyche was too fragile at this point. They asserted that there was nothing he could do to regain his championship form, not even bring in his father, Roy Jones Sr., back in his corner. He was finished.
After dropping a unanimous decision to Tarver, Jones was met with indifference by the boxing world, even after putting up a sub-par performance over twelve rounds on PPV. At that point, even the most loyal Roy Jones Jr. fans began abandoning the bandwagon. How could anyone care to watch him in the ring, much less root for him?
So he went into exile again, at least from the boxing ring. While he was gone, hardly anyone thought about him for more than ten seconds, if that. So when he announced a few months ago that he would be facing Prince Badi Ajamu, a solid but unproven light heavyweight, members of the press just rolled their eyes. Fans asked themselves why the former pound-for-pound king was fighting in Idaho on PPV. Had things gotten this bad for him? Had Roy Jones Jr. really fallen this low?
Perhaps. Perhaps these are the decisions a man makes after being shunned by the same public who once hailed him as an all-time great. Perhaps this is what it comes to after being the target of jokes and rap lyrics. Perhaps this, standing all alone with your back to the wall, is what it’s all about. Perhaps having no one to believe in you is the only way to ever reach higher. Perhaps on July 29, Roy Jones Jr. will teach us a little about pride and shame, love and hate, victory and defeat, essentially what he’s experienced and endured inside the ring throughout his splendid career.
“I know I’m back to enjoying myself spiritually, physically, and mentally. I’m back to my normal self. This will be the Roy Jones Jr. of old. I’ve learned I got away from being myself. [In the past] I’ve done certain things that just weren’t me, but I’ve adjusted decently. I feel comfortable,” says Jones Jr. peacefully. “God will test us always. I’m just happy God’s given me so many opportunities like this one, fighting Prince Badi Ajamu. All careers have ups and downs. If I’m washed up, that’s my problem. Just tune in on the 29th—you’ll see differently.”
