“F an introduction, I’ve been here.”

Born out of the what I feel I’m going to tell my children years from now, I couldn’t help but initiate what I hope to be a beautiful discussion. Boxing has arguably bloomed since it’s last Golden Age, what my generation hears as “before my time”. My uncles tell me, “Oh, you haven’t seen boxing ’till you appreciate Julio Cesar Chavez.” Or, “You can’t top the Hearns/Leonard years.” Oh I know, thank God for youtube. But I am in firm belief that the best is yet to come.

All I know is that just four nights ago Floyd Mayweather Jr. won in a manner so unbelievably raw, it was a burden for him to let the fight go on. He signed off like only Floyd could, a one-two that decisively drew the 42nd tally in his ridiculous record. Regardless, I finally understand what it meant to be a champion. Floyd Mayweather Jr. played the champ, not even honoring that it was Ortiz that night who had the welterweight belt around his waist. He arrived slicker than 007, relieving Ortiz of the belt as if he was just renting it from its real owner, PBF industries, and it’s CEO, Pretty Boy Floyd. By now, the lines he spits are as routine as the miles he runs. “I’ve been hated, they’ll always talk,” he says, as if his journey to 42-0 was like turning to the next page of a children’s book. His story was written to start perfect, and keep staying perfect. What doesn’t get too much press about Mayweather is how hard he works just to make being perfect look easy. You can even say Mayweather showed more of that inner perfectionist in the most recent series of 24/7.

In sum, it’s now more than silly to deny Floyd’s skill. One announcer compared his game to the web of a Black Widow, but I think the style shown in Floyd’s more recent years is more of legend, like Naazim Richardson’s dragon. I’d say for the purposes of this essay we meet halfway make it more real.

Floyd is our generation’s pit viper, a highly accurate assassin capable of making even a dirty fight look so clean. What I hope to see is our generation’s eagle (our very own Manny Pacquiao) in the same ring as the misunderstood pit viper. It could happen, and I can’t help but hold my breath in anticipation.

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