The Range Finder: Evaluating Money

It had been 14 years since I was last in Sin City but if my, admittedly, beer fuelled senses could be trusted then the old place didn’t appear to have changed very much. I was in Vegas with a small contingent of friends, accordingly dubbed the ‘Brit Pack’, in order that we may bear witness to the curiously conservative phenomenon that is Floyd Mayweather Jr.

As the mandatory limo ferried us to Sinatra’s old haunt, the Riviera Hotel, the adrenaline and expectation made us all forget that it was 4am back in London.

You don’t waste your first night in the storied Mecca of chance by going to bed early, so after a brisk check in and cursory shower, the Brit Pack hit the town.

I could elaborate on that first evening in down town Vegas with amusing anecdotes of the topless dancing taxi driver or Gay Jim and the ‘Blaxican’ but none of these tales have anything to do with boxing and I presume it is boxing that you are chiefly interested in so let’s proceed to the weigh in.

The modern ‘super fight ‘ weigh in is an increasingly drawn out procedure, attended by many thousands, much of whom don’t actually go to the fight itself.

We were largely bored throughout the unreasonably long performance of a Latino pop star, unknown to us but duly appreciated by a screaming gaggle of young Hispanic girls in our midst.

The gangsta rap of Rick Ross seemed decidedly more congruous with the Money Team swagger and the screaming girls were suddenly replaced by Afro American males making obligatory hand gestures while free T-Shirts bearing the TBE logo were shot into the crowd by bizarre hand held cannons. Surrounded by such extravagant frippery, I couldn’t help but imagine the era when Joe Louis and Max Schmeling would smile wanly and shake hands before going off to eat a steak. We can blame a young Cassius Clay for turning what used to be an entirely functional affair into a platform for hype and histrionics but with The Greatest the show was always organic, with no need for anodyne pop singers. The glaring irony is that Lil’ Floyd feels no burden of obligation to entertain the masses when the bell rings.

Let’s be clear: it is impossible to be a lover of the ‘sweet science’ and to not admire Floyd Mayweather. His sublime defensive skills and uber accurate punching are beautiful to behold but it’s a minimalist form of beauty quite devoid of the showmanship and excitement that characterised the performances of Ali, Ray Leonard and Roy Jones in their vintage.

To be entirely fair, we must remember that Leonard, for all his brilliance, was a shot fighter at 34. Mayweather turns 38 next February and still appears to be on his game.

Some might point to the arduous nature of the first Maidana fight or the right hand that momentarily stiffened Floyd’s legs at the end of Round 3 as a sign that ‘Money’ is in decline but the truth is that he made the necessary adjustments and kept ‘Chino’ honest for much of the rematch.

Oddly, one member of our retinue was seated in a noisy pro Madiana section and was convinced that the Argentine had won as the crowd booed Mayweather’s fleet footed refusal to engage in the twelfth and final round. For the record, the judges at ringside turned in cards of 116-111 (twice) and 115-112, all in favour of the Michigan prodigy whose ledger now stands at 47-0.

If the fight didn’t exactly get our pulses racing then our exit from the MGM Grand Garden certainly provided some unsanctioned thrills as we were caught in a stampede when attempting to leave the venue.

In the heat of the moment, my mind shot back to the similar melee in the same arena after the infamous Tyson – Holyfield rematch. Amid varying rumours that somebody had been shot or there was a bomb in the building, two of us evacuated though a fire escape having been separated from the rest of the ‘Pack.’

Reunited within twenty minutes we were soon drinking more beer and laughing at the irony of our peripheral Vegas adventures turning out to be hugely more exciting than the main event we had all come to see.

Please don’t misunderstand me, I am glad to have finally seen Floyd Matweather jnr. live and he is everything I already knew him to be. Smart, quick, amazingly accurate with those familiar staples: left jab to the body, counter right hand and lead left hook but I sat there wanting more from him.

It was interesting to note that Floyd was actually most effective when he went looking for Maidana and forced him to back up but the WBC welterweight and light middleweight champion seems resolute in his desire to go the distance every time out unless you annoy him in the manner of Victor Ortiz.

Gene Tunney once said that a successful prizefighter should have two aims in mind, to avoid harm and to make money. Based purely on that agenda, Mayweather is surely the greatest prizefighter of all time but, for the sake of balance, I will leave the final world to Shane Mosley ( not THAT Shane Mosley, you understand.)

“That was an amazing three days and I am definitely coming on the next trip but if Mayweather faces anyone besides Khan or Pacquiao then I don’t need a ticket to the fight.”

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