He Musta Forgot
At this point I’d rather listen to Roy Jones Jr. rap than watch him fight, and if you think that’s something I say lightly you should listen to him rhyme.
This is serious as a noise-induced headache.
Which of course is less serious than the throbbing inside your skull that accompanies a knockout, a concussion or whatever else Jones is likely to suffer next time he enters the ring.
And, sadly, incredibly, there will be a next time.
December 10 Jones is slated to face a tomato can named Max Alexander in Atlanta.
I was hoping Denis Lebedev had beaten some sense into the 42-year-old Jones when he knocked him cold in May, but now it looks like this kill shot did the opposite.
As we discussed nearly two years ago Jones’ string of late career losses doesn’t diminish his mid-career brilliance, not unless we’re ready to say dropping bouts to Joey Archer makes Sugar Ray Robinson less great. So even if Jones loses in December — a strong possibility given how he has looked lately — his legacy is still set.
But it’s not his legacy that has me worried.
It’s his brain.
It’s a delicate piece of equipment, as any neurologist, occupational therapist or relative of a punch-drunk fighter can tell you.
And if Jones can’t use it to make decisions that will safeguard his health, the people around him need to. At least they would do it if they care more about the man than his ego, or the trivial amounts of cash that might still trickle down from a fighter who no longer can make it rain money.
And if none of them can do the smart thing the Georgia State Athletic Commission should.
Because the Road to Dementia is paved on a slippery slope.
Follow Morgan Campbell on Twitter