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ROY "SUPERMAN" JONES JR. - An American Boxer
He became only the second light heavyweight champion to win a heavyweight title. For several years beginning in the late 1990s, he was widely considered the best boxer of his generation.
Personal Information:
Born Roy Jones Jr. on January 16, 1969, in Pensacola, FL. Son of Roy Sr. and Carol Jones. Father, an ex-fighter, was Roy Jr.'s boxing teacher.
Education: Graduate from Washington High in Pensacola in 1987. Attended Pensacola Junior College.
Career:
Widely considered best pound-for-pound boxer in the world. Won National Junior Olympics title before he was 15. Won Golden Gloves in 1986 and 1987. As amateur, record was 121-13. Won Silver Medal at 1988 Olympic Games. Captured IBF middleweight crown in 1993. Won IBF super middleweight title in 1994. Earned WBC light heavyweight title in 1996. Lost (by disqualification), then regained, WBC light heavyweight crown in 1997. Captured WBA light heavyweight crown in 1998; defended it in January 1999. Won IBF belt in June of 1999 to become the first undisputed light heavyweight champion since 1985.
Life's Work:
Countless journalists, fans, trainers, managers, and other boxers have termed Roy Jones "the best pound for pound fighter in the world." This middleweight champion from Pensacola, Florida, is known for lightning hand speed, thunderous knockout power, and astonishing agility in the ring. He even improvises with his technique, launching punches from unlikely angles and surprising opponents with unexpected moves and flurries of blows. Quoted on Jones' website, former heavyweight champion George Foreman said Jones "hits like a heavyweight and moves like a lightweight,"
In addition, Jones is one boxer who has provided a positive role model for young people. He is totally disciplined in his approach to training, avoids drugs and drink completely, is highly involved in his hometown community, and dedicates much of his time to charitable organizations and projects. Jones has been especially involved in working with teenagers: by speaking in public to many groups, warning young people about taking drugs, and providing a training program and facility for local youths. A man with strong religious convictions--which he expresses without any self-righteousness--Jones never bothers with the trash-talking so many boxers use to "psyche out" opponents.
With his supremacy in the middleweight and light heavyweight range, it is surprising that "Roy Jones" does not have universal name recognition. Part of the reason probably is his refusal to market himself as a spectacle--merely as a spectacular fighter. In many ways, he has refused to play the game by rules established by the media and starmakers such as Don King.
But the biggest reason is the lack of any fighters in Jones' weight division who can push him to his limits. The 1980s, by contrast, was a middleweight heyday, with a crop of sensational fighters at the top of their form, such as Sugar Ray Leonard, Marvin Hagler, Roberto Duran, and Thomas Hearns. These boxers incited and pushed each other; many of their fights were epic battles. But Jones has found no credible, champion-grade warriors to take on. In fact, many of his fights have been serious mismatches. While Jones is certainly a great boxer to watch, his matches are usually too one-sided to make for a good fight. This is a shame, because Jones' potential has hardly been tested; it is quite likely that he would have prevailed over all the other great middleweights.
Often compared favorably with the Sugar Rays--both Leonard and Robinson--Jones is believed by many to be the greatest boxer of all time. As Ross Greenburg, executive producer of HBO Sports, was quoted in a Sports Illustrated feature, he and the other HBO commentators "were there for Leonard and Hagler and Hearns and Duran in their prime. I think Roy Jones gets in a ring and beats them all. I've never seen that kind of punching power and speed in one man." In 1996, High Frequency Boxing's John DiMaio wrote "The early evidence points toward the real possibility that Jones is the greatest talent this sport has ever seen. His skill so dwarfs that of his nearest ranked opposition...that providing competitive opponents is a more challenging dilemma than the fights themselves." The expert opinion of Boxing magazine's editor, Bert Sugar, is provided on Jones' website: "He possesses the fastest hands in boxing with lightning fast moves and explosive power in both hands." After lost the World Boxing Council light heavyweight crown to Jones in a 1996 unanimous decision, Mike McCallum called Jones "the greatest fighter of all time."
Jones' mastery extends beyond mere strength and speed, however. He also has the ability to outthink other fighters, to anticipate and counter their moves before they even know what they are. Olympic team coach Alton Merkerson, whom Jones hired in the early 1990's as his trainer, said in Sports Illustrated, "Roy's not only got the quickest hands in boxing, but the quickest mind."
Robbed of Gold in Olympics Scandal:
Going into the 1988 Olympic games in Seoul, Korea, Jones had amassed an extraordinary record of 106-4. (His final tally as an amateur would be 121-13.) In the final, championship bout for his division, Jones thoroughly dominated his opponent, South Korean Park Si-Hun, with 86 punches to Park's 32--and a standing eight count to boot. But the judges decided against him, 3-2. The boxing world was stunned by this outrageous decision. As Kevin Monaghan, NBC's boxing correspondent at the games, said in USA Today, "It was an absolute joke. It was obvious Roy had won the fight. He was so fast, the guy couldn't lay a glove on Roy." The same article includes a quote from U.S. Olympic Committee director of media services Bob Condron: "It was not, in any sense of the word, close." The decision was such a blatant injustice that 50 Korean Buddhist monks went to Jones to express their shame.
An investigation ensued, and evidence surfaced indicating corruption--i.e., bribes. Ultimately, two of the three judges who ruled against Jones were permanently barred from boxing. At the time of the games, Jones reacted with dignity, accepting the silver medal despite the gross affront that had occurred. Since then, he has waged a campaign to get the medal he deserved. But the International Olympic Committee has refused to overturn the scandalous decision. The Committee presented Jones with the Olympic Order in September 1997, but this belated consolation prize was no substitute for the medal that was stolen.
Despite Jones' preeminent stature, the Olympic incident still vexes him deeply. Millions of people believe Jones obviously won the Gold Medal. But for him, vindication can come only when the decision is officially overturned. And he still keeps a flame burning: "I will die with a little hope in me," Jones said in a USA Today piece.
Cultivated Other Interests:
Jones leads an extraordinarily active life. Boxing is his profession, but he has loads of other passions. These include cock-fighting, which Jones has pursued avidly his whole life. He even raises birds himself, though he does not necessarily fight them. Jones credits the gutsy roosters for helping teach him about being a valiant and shrewd fighter.
Jones also loves the game of basketball, and he even played professionally with the United States Basketball League's Jacksonville Barracudas during the summer of 1996. In fact, to keep things interesting for himself, Jones became the first man to play a game of pro basketball and defend a boxing title in the same day--June 15, 1996. His opponent that day, Canada's Eric Lucas, was widely considered easy pickings for Jones, so a fatiguing basketball game was one way to even the field a little. Knight-Ridder/Tribune News Service quoted Jones as saying, a little defensively perhaps, "At least this gives the guy a chance." Clearly, basketball is far more than a casual hobby to Jones. But no one suggests that the 5'11" Jones should switch sports.
In addition, Jones has done a lot of motivational speaking, primarily to younger people. He has raised money for a number of charitable causes, including his injured friend Gerald McClellan. Jones visits hospitals to offer hope and inspiration to severely ill and injured patients. He also runs a youth program in Pensacola. And the list goes on; Jones is as involved in community-building and humanitarian work as any fighter ever.
A boxer with Jones' skills and genius easily could rack up a string of victories every year, and expand his visibility to the public. Many people in the boxing industry would love to see him do exactly that. But Jones does not fight just for the sake of fighting. In fact, he usually keeps it to three or four matches per year. Jones aims to select matches that carry big purses, and he has expressed frustration that his weight class is paid is so much less than the heavyweights are. But part of the reason Jones fights infrequently is because there are no fighters with comparable talent. He has even considered bulking up to take on the heavyweights or trimming down to fight the welterweight champions.
Jones has made clear many times that he has conflicted feelings about boxing, mostly because of the sport's inherent danger--for both combatants. Even a great fighter gets hit sometimes, and the human brain was not designed to endure much battering within the skull. Jones has seen up close the effects of one severe knockout punch on a friend of his: Gerald McClellan, whose eyesight, hearing, and speech were badly damaged. As he said to USA Today, "I care about my well-being after boxing. This game is dangerous. It doesn't take an accumulation of punches to mess you up. Gerald didn't have any hard fights before Benn. And look what happened." A year later, he was quoted in the same paper: "This game is not a good game for anyone--me or anyone else. Look at the history of the guys who were great. Look at their condition 10 years after they're done. This game doesn't usually deal you a good hand, not in the long run."
It is very rare for a fighter to discuss the long-term effects of the sport, but Jones is honest about the risks entailed. In addition to being a great athlete, Jones is intelligent and sensitive--and he does not want those qualities diminished.
The other side of the issue is that Jones does not want to maim anyone. He has a well-developed conscience, and would hate to inflict a terrible injury. Sometimes when Jones fights opponents who are far below his caliber, he has to look out for the other man's well-being. For instance, when pressure from promoters and the challenger pushed Jones into taking on Vinny Pacienza in June 1995, he was not happy about it. He knew Pacienza was past his prime but also had the kind of grit that would keep him going even if the going got dangerously self-destructive. In that fight, Jones' intent to avoid hurting Pacienza prompted the referee to issue a warning. Then, as he steadily bloodied and rocked Pacienza at will, Jones all but pleaded with the ref to halt the fight. After six rounds, a TKO finally was called.
"I cried after the Pazienza fight," said Jones in the New York Times. "It tore me up inside. It really made me wonder about what I do automatically."
For Jones, fighting is a means to an end, but it is not how he chooses to approach life outside the ring--or indefinitely in it either. Not many boxers are tough enough to admit, as Jones did in USA Today, that his real desire is "to be loved and feel wanted." On another occasion, in Sports Illustrated Jones discussed the idea of "living large,'' in the ring and out: "Sure, I'll do some show-boating in the ring--I'm the only true performer in the ring today. But not outside of it. People assume every boxer wants to live the fast life. That's an escape, not a life. I want a person-to-person life."
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