Two-hundred and one professional fights over a 25 year career (that’s eight fights a year).
For every fight Ray had he probably averaged over 300 rounds of sparring — at least.
In his last year of boxing, he fought 14 fights. Yeah, a little over one a month. I’m sure the love of the sport had eroded. He boxed out of necessity.
That’s heavy.
The only way he could make money off his name was to do the thing that gave him his name. That’s an unforgiving existence. Gloving up and fighting without adrenalin is one of the most painful emotional, psychological, and physical acts a man can undertake.
You hear the voice of the crowd, you feel the laced gloves rub against the skin. Mentally, to yourself, you acknowledge the pain–mid-fight. You hear breath when infighting. Where once you were sure, there is doubt. You hesitate. You recognize your opponent’s strength.
You chose when to engage.
That’s not what you feel, nor what you do, when you have “the fire.”
Like the old man who no longer tries. You go through the motions. You just want to go the distance.
One of the last men Ray fought was “Memo Ayon.” I wonder how Ayon felt after he defeated Ray? (Did he think, “I can be one of the greats,” “Now, it’s going to be different!”, or “I’m on the way up”?)
He must’ve thought so because after he defeated Ray, with 169 wins and 14 losses (Memo was on a three-fight win streak), Memo fought 60 (wins) and 4 (losses) Luis Rodriguez (yes, the former World Welterweight Champion, “El Feo” from Cuba), 12-1 Gutierrez, 12-0 Marty, and 18-1 Gutierrez in a rematch — and lost all four, retiring himself.
Often when you defeat the lion, you don’t become king. Kinda like that old cat that can no longer hold-off the youthful upstart.
Defeated, injured, alone, now a burden, he’s pushed to the outskirts. He can’t hunt, nor can he fight off the hyena. He becomes fodder and fuel for the low rung predators and contenders.
I admire that Ray did that — to knowingly go from being Batman to Robin. That isn’t today’s fighter; They’re about getting out of the sport before it takes back. As great and as talented as many are, they consciously make a decision to take themselves out of the food chain.
When you retire undefeated, are you denying a young lion his rite of passage? Does that not weaken the sport? Removing yourself from the food chain instead of being removed?
Yeah, it’s painful, but there is honor in losing. Honor can be found in a loss.
Not that I’m an advocate for brain damage, but that’s another story.
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