Professional athletes of a certain age are much like stars of the stage and screen whose best days are receding along with whatever traces remain of their youthful glory. Cher seemingly began her “Farewell Tour” 20 years ago. It wasn’t one of her signature hits, or even a song first recorded by her, but maybe “Never Can Say Goodbye” should have been the theme for her interminably drawn-out journey toward the exit. Others in her spotlight-craving business quit and return with the regularity of swallows coming back to Capistrano.
“Forty-nine is my last fight,” Mayweather insisted in what might or might not be his final teleconference with a media horde he at best tolerates. “I think I’ve been pushed to the limit. There really is nothing left to accomplish.”
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Whenever an inquiring mind wanted another affirmation that Mayweather would stay away once he steps away, Leonard Ellerbe, CEO of Mayweather Promotions, jumped in to offer himself as a human shield to deflect any notion that “Money May” was unsure of his future plans, or possibly jerking the public’s chain.
“Over the last week I received three major movie offers (for Mayweather),” Ellerbe said in hinting that Hollywood was panting to anoint his guy the next Denzel Washington or maybe the next Antoine Fuqua, arguably the most prestigious of current black directors. “We fully expect Floyd to be heavily involved in the entertainment industry because this is what he does. With the significant offers coming our way, that’s definitely something that will occupy a lot of his time.”
How about it, Floyd?
“I’ve been approached on numerous occasions,” Mayweather said as coyly as he draws in outclassed opponents with a feint and shoulder roll before delivering a stinging counter strike. “But I’d rather be behind the scene. I feel like I’ve had my time to shine in the sport of boxing. We just never know what the future holds, you know?”
Mayweather has an interest in promoting rappers and rap groups, so maybe his first project after polishing off Berto will be to star or direct in Straight Outta Grand Rapids. It presumably would tell the tale of a poor kid from a fractious family background who went on to become the most accomplished boxer of his era, and the undisputed champion of raking in vast sums of cash as if he were some sort of pugilistic Warren Buffet.
“I believe in myself,” the ever-prideful and defiant Mayweather repeated, in case the message hadn’t seeped through the first thousand times he issued it. “I believe in my skills. I’m going to be ‘TBE’ (the best ever) until I die.”
It is the veneer of historical accomplishment and the suggestion -- OK, more like insistence -- that Mayweather, in his presumed swan song, will sidle alongside the late, great heavyweight champion Rocky Marciano’s renowned 49-0 record that has been the hook to create interest in his matchup with Berto, which doesn’t figure to be even a blip on the radar in comparison to the welterweight king’s most recent bout. That came on May 2, when Mayweather easily outboxed Manny Pacquiao in the richest boxing match of all time, with a record 4.4-million PPV subscriptions and gross revenues of $500 million-plus. Mayweather earned somewhere in the vicinity of $240 million for his night’s work, and to date he has made -- without the benefit of a single product endorsement -- $285 million in 2015, putting him so far ahead of other athletes that he might as well be Secretariat turning for home in the 1973 Belmont Stakes.
The problem with hitting the golden mother lode, of course, is that it makes for a tough act to follow. Enter Berto, or to the point, the ghost of Marciano, who is more of an attraction than any living, breathing opponent could ever be, especially one who has lost to two men (Robert Guerrero and Victor Ortiz) whom Mayweather has already dispatched with ease.
It has become part of boxing lore that Marciano still hovers above the sport he once dominated with sledgehammer punching power, like an apparition intent on keeping others from equaling or surpassing his now-legendary 49-and-oh. The most notable incident of such intervention came on Sept. 21, 1985, when bulked-up and undefeated light heavyweight champion Michael Spinks outpointed heavyweight titlist Larry Holmes, who was bidding for his 49th victory without a defeat. It was widely suggested when the “Easton Assassin” tasted his first defeat that Rocky had been battling him from beyond the grave as much as Spinks inside the ring.
But there are stark differences between Holmes-Spinks and Mayweather-Berto. While it is a given that Mayweather is a truly elite fighter, as was Holmes, no one is apt to confuse Berto, a former welterweight champ who is neither chopped liver nor filet mignon, with a Hall of Famer like Spinks.
Although Berto no doubt is pleased to have snagged a high-visibility, good-paying gig as Mayweather’s portal to history, the mere fact he was selected ahead of presumably more worthy fighters is something of an indictment of his abilities. Put it this way: Berto is widely considered to be nothing more than a designated victim, a role he surely understands if not necessarily agreeing with.
“Nah,” Berto said when asked if he was surprised at the criticism leveled at him for being a no-chance threat to spoil Mayweather’s big night. “Everybody in this division would get criticism (for being a supposedly inferior opponent for Floyd). It’s something you have to prepare yourself for. I’ve prepared myself mentally for the situation. You can’t think about what the critics say. The critics are not in the ring with us.
“Look, I don’t get caught up in all the hoopla and all the crazy s--t. I’m on a mission.”
Mayweather, too, is taking some of those familiar verbal barbs as a cherry-picker who is somehow manufacturing his way to ring immortality. Those who aren’t disposed to place him on a higher pedestal than Sugar Ray Robinson, Sugar Ray Leonard or Muhammad Ali are quick to dismiss his choices -- even though he’s been in 25 world championship bouts and won all of them, and more often than not in convincing fashion -- as having been made against fighters who were not yet all that they would become (Canelo Alvarez), or those who were less than they had once had been (Oscar De La Hoya).
“It really don’t matter who I choose,” Mayweather said of the media’s disdain for Berto as next man up. “I will always be criticized. That comes with the territory. I could care less. Nobody’s forced to watch. Watch if you want to watch. If you don’t want to watch, don’t watch.”
It is a given that fewer fight fans -- almost certainly much fewer -- than had their eyeballs on Mayweather-Pacquiao will be ponying up for a bout that would seem to be as competitive as Custer vs. Crazy Horse at the Little Bighorn. “Money” gets his slice of history, a few million more to add help fund for his next lavish spending adventure and … well, what?
Even great fighters who retire with the best of intentions often come back for one of three reasons: they need another payday, or their egos fed, or because they don’t know how to do anything else. Despite Floyd’s wealth, his opulent lifestyle suggests Option 1 is not out of the question, and Option 2 is as reasonable a supposition as any. Option 3 is hazy, depending on whether Mayweather’s branching out into movies, music and the fashion industry is profitable or fills the void that not having boxing possibly creates.
And, of course, there is that little matter of 50-0. Mayweather might say he’s satisfied to be rubbing shoulders with Marciano, but can someone who professes to be the greatest of the great resist scratching the itch to one-up The Rock? The danger, of course, is that the insidious thief of talent -- advancing age, the foremost component of the natural laws of diminishing returns -- will sneak up on Mayweather and put a smudge on his cherished undefeated pro record as much or more as any gloved rival possibly could.
“You always think of yourself as the best you ever were. That’s human nature,” Sugar Ray Leonard said in 2013 when asked about his own intermittent retirements and un-retirements. “And that’s not just how highly successful people think. Everyone thinks that way.
“But even if money is not an issue, and you have other options, you never lose that belief in yourself as a fighter, particularly if you’ve been to the very top of the mountain. (Being retired) eats at you. It’s hard to find anything else that can give you that high.”
So we look at Mayweather, marvel at what he has already accomplished, wonder how long he can keep accomplishing it, or even if he has the will to make the attempt. Just a guess, but you would have to imagine that Cher would understand if Floyd’s goodbye concert proves to be anything but.
Bernard Fernandez, a five-term president of the Boxing Writers Association of America, received the Nat Fleischer Award from the BWAA in April 1999 for lifetime achievement and was inducted into the Pennsylvania Boxing Hall of Fame in 2005, as well as the New Jersey Boxing Hall of Fame in 2013. The New Orleans-born sports writer has worked in the industry since 1969 and pens a weekly column on the Sweet Science for Sherdog.com.