by B. R. Bearden

03.09 - As we brace ourselves for another Roy Jones Jr. "defense", with its usual promise of one-sidedness, silly posturing, and the dismantling of another opponent who's already counting the loser's share of the purse, I have to keep reminding myself that it isn't always this way in the sport I love. But listening to Reluctant Roy shuck and jive his way out of ever being caught in the same time zone with a real opponent, it makes me wonder if younger boxing fans think that's the way it's always been. Has the champion always used percentages and geography to avoid serious challengers? Is it the way of the champion to sit back and wait on a sanctioning body to require him to fight a "mandatory" before he puts on the gloves? The answer is, of course, "No!".

Fighters want to make money, hence the almost three hundred year old term "prize fighter". It is the nature of the game, to fight for the prize, but seldom has it become the only reason a man will risk his health is such a rough occupation. Most champions fight as much for the pride of holding their title against all comers as they do for the money, and most challengers envy them their position at the top of the hill.

In the early days there were no sanctioning bodies, and often magazines and newspapers decided who was the rightful challenger, and often the rightful champion. In the 1880s, Richard K. Fox, publisher of the Police Gazette, began the practice of handing out championship belts. Fox disliked John L. Sullivan, reigning bare-knuckles and gloved heavyweight champion and put the backing of his publication behind several fighters as rightful contenders for Sullivan's title. Rather than give his Police Gazette Diamond Belt to Sullivan, he awarded it to Jake Kilrain and touted him as the true heavyweight champion. In 1889, John L. whiped Kilrain and laid claim to Fox' s belt. He didn't fight Kilrain for the money as much as for a strap to put around his waist in order to proclaim, "I am the champion. Take it from me if you can!"

When Fox died in 1922, the torch wasn't allowed to touch the ground. Nat Fleischer founded The Ring magazine that same year and was soon recognized as the linear heir to the Police Gazette in all things boxing. In the minds of everyone, the championship was a Thing, as intangible but desired as citizenship to a starving immigrant. It meant more than the money in the minds of most of the great champions. Rocky Marciano once asked, "What would be better than walking down any street in any city and knowing you're a champion?"

When Jess Willard took a life-threatening beating from Jack Dempsey he set the bar to a height few fighters could reach. Whatever one might think of the skills of Willard, his heart was of championship quality, and on the 4th of July, 1919 he set the standard for the way a champion gives up his title. He didn't sit on a stool, as Sonny Liston did, and hand it over. It was taken from him only after he'd suffered a broken jaw, cracked cheek bone, lose of his front teeth, smashed nose, and several fractured ribs. His life was bleeding away with each moment the savage beating continued, yet someone else had to quit for him. Big Jess didn't quit.

When light heavyweight champion Archie Moore challenged Rocky Marciano for the heavyweight title, he took a frightful beating. Between the 8th and 9th rounds the referee went to Moore's corner and offered to stop the fight. Moore replied, "I too am a champion, and I want to go out like a champion." In the next round he was knocked out, but his heart was undefeated. Jimmy Braddock would say almost the same thing when he lost his title to Joe Louis via knockout. His manager wanted to stop the fight; it had reached the point where Braddock had no hope against the Brown Bomber. But Jimmy said, "I want to go out like a champion. I want to be carried out." Like Moore, his defeat never went as deep as his heart.

This aspect of the championship Roy Jones has never faced, partly because he is so talented, but mostly because he will never put him self into the position of Willard or Moore or Braddock. Dangerous fighters of the ilk of Dempsey, Marciano, and Louis are not to be considered by the man who once forbade the TV announcers from mentioning Darius Michalczewski during a show that featured Roy.

The Hall of Fame is filled with the tall shadows of men who still walk in ghostly pride, sometimes beaten but never defeated. When I hear Roy Jones make excuses for why he's not going to fight someone he's bragged about fighting only days before, I can almost hear the disappointed sighs of the warriors who went before.

Somewhere Sam Langford shakes his head sadly; in some other place, Joe Jeannette and Harry Wills exchange disgusted looks. For you see, they had to endure the time of the "color line", when talented black fighters weren't allowed to fight for the championship, when they fought for less money than white fighters on the back roads of boxing. How sad to see an equally talented fighter taking millions to fight much lesser men while studiously avoiding any and all serious competition. Harry Wills fought the best black fighters of his time, but he longed to fight Jack Dempsey for the heavyweight title; Sam Langford lost to Jack Johnson before the latter was champion, but begged for a chance to fight him again once he had the crown. Yet Jones talks of fighting Jirov and Hopkins and Michalczewski, but fights Clinton Woods instead, and of his own choice. He draws his own line and the color could fairly be called "yellow".

Roy tells us he's not a natural light heavyweight, yet has remained in that shallow division with the same dedication of a small boat tied up safely in the harbor because there's a dark cloud on the horizon. His defenders say the boat is the most sea-worthy craft to come along in decades but the
skeptics say, "Prove it with more than words. Once, just once, cast off when you say you're going to sea."

He talks of going up in weight and fighting Jirov or Ruiz. He talks of going down in weight to fight Hopkins. He talks both ways, yet the scale always reads 175.

Billy Conn gave up 30+ pounds and his light heavyweight title to challenge arguably the best heavyweight champion of all time, Joe Louis. Conn didn't have the punch of Jones but he had the speed and skill and even more, he had the heart. And he came within 2 rounds of taking the heavyweight crown. Light heavyweight champion Archie Moore campaigned long and hard for a fight with Rocky Marciano at a time when many heavyweights were being careful not to ask for a bout with the Rock. He fought gamely and was knocked down 3 times before he was knocked out, yet in the midst of a terrible beating, he continued to try to get to his feet each time.

Bob Foster challenged Joe Frazier and was knocked out in 2 for his audacity. Feeling no flutter in his heart, he later stepped in with Muhammad Ali and was KO'd in 8.

Tommy Loughran gave up his light heavyweight title, as did Conn, to fight Jack Sharkey for the heavyweight title vacated by Gene Tunney. He was KO'd in 3, but he followed it up by fighting, and beating, future heavyweight champion Max Baer, despite Maxie's 3 ½", 35+ pound advantage. Later he beat Sharkey, after the latter no longer had the title.

When the challenges were at other weight classes, across the board most of the great light heavyweight champions stepped up to them. Sometimes they won, sometimes they lost. Always they tried.

Roy draws the "weight" line and stays safely at light heavy. Or is it the "wait" line?

The great light heavyweight champions fought the Who's Who of their time; each and every one has a career studded with the names of Hall of Fame opponents. Roy Jones is half way there; when he announces his next opponent, even hard core boxing fans usually say, "Who?"

Fans of Jones were impressed when he played basketball the morning of a fight, taking it as a sign of greatness. He held his arms behind his back while taunting Glenn Kelly, a fighter so thankful to Roy for a loser's share that he made no offensive moves of note the entire seven rounds the bore-fest lasted.

Willie Pep was in a terrible plane crash and so badly injured doctors told him he might never walk again. Five months later he was back in the ring and won 26 in a row before losing to the great Sandy Saddler.

Max Schmelling stepped into the ring for the return fight with Joe Louis minutes after being informed that back in Nazi Germany the Gestapo was holding his wife and parents in "protective custody" in case he should lose and somebody want to harm them.

Ali suffered a broken jaw in the 2nd round from Ken Norton, yet was still fighting when the bell sounded for the 12th round. He lost but he wasn't beaten. So dribble dribble, swish, net, Roy, but when you say, "Y'all musta forgot" Just remember. some of us haven't.