Myth: Roy Jones was not a fundamentally sound boxer
The Roy of old could do just about everything well
Originally, I planned on keeping the myths general and not about specific fighters. This particular myth about Roy Jones, however, symbolizes the more deeply-rooted folklore that flashy black athletes don't have much in the way of fundamentals. When someone has the talent to do something unorthodox, new, and exciting, they are quickly trivialized by critics who love tossing out arbitrary definitions about what fundamentals are. Folks longing for the "good ole' days".
It's nonsense.
Roy did unconventional things in the ring, true. And many observers equate being unconventional with being fundamentally flawed. But would you tell a .360 batter that he's holding the bat wrong because how he's doing it looks funny? That he should position his hands lower, like the guys hitting .285?
Of course, you might retort with how young, less gifted fighters imitating Roy is a sure way of getting knocked out. Right. Just as threading-the-needle with long bounce passes and tossing up ally oops from half court is a sure way for the average ball player to get turnovers. That doesn't stop the best passers in the NBA from doing it successfully. Damn that Steve Nash and his lack of fundamentals!
His unorthodox ways helped Roy, not hurt him. His opponents had hell finding sparring partners to mimic RJ's style. It didn't matter what connections they had, there was no one in that Rolodex that was going to mimic a leaping left hook thrown as quickly and as accurately as Jones threw them.
Ah. That tactically flawed, technically inappropriate, fundamentally erroneous leaping left hook. Roy's favorite punch. Ask Thomas Tate how it was, "tactically". He lasted the distance with Julian Jackson - perhaps the hardest hitting middleweight in history - just to get taken out within 2 rounds by a single Jones left hook. Ask Thulani Malinga what it was like, "technically", when he too was knocked out by a single leaping hook after going the distance with KO artist Nigel Benn. Ask Montell Griffin what if felt like, "fundamentally", when Roy caught him with one in the first round of their rematch. KO1. And Griffin was sturdy enough to beat James Toney - albeit controversially - twice.
Jones had his fair share of power. But he didn't have more than Julian Jackson, Nigel Benn, perhaps even Toney. The speed and placement of that leaping hook is what made it a terror for his foes, solid chin or not.
As far as these fundamentals he supposedly didn't have:
Footwork? Check. His footwork was spectacular.
Balance? Check. He was always in position to throw a punch.
Timing? Check. One of the best counter punchers that ever put on a pair of gloves.
Inside-fighting? Check. Sosa was an excellent in-fighter. But he was no match for Jones.
Body punching? Check. He wasn't Mike McCallum, but anyone who can break a hall-of-famer's ribs isn't bad.
Jab? Half-check. In some fights, he didn't use it much at all. In others, he used it beautifully.
So what's really fundamentally flawed? Roy's unconventional style or the conventional view of him and athletes of his ilk?
Myth: The Lucky Punch
Speaking of Roy...
"Lucky punch." The phrase is so overused that I vomit in my mouth every time I hear (or see) it.
Yes, there's luck involved with landing punches, as there is with anything. With some more than others. But whenever an underdog unexpectedly lands a punch that knocks out the favorite, or leads to the eventual knock out of the favorite, you have people lined up with their flies open ready to piss on his victory by calling it lucky.
Not only are they trivializing his accomplishment, they're trivializing the science behind a well placed blow. They're diminishing the complex strategy involved within the intense chess games being played out within the ring. At the highest level, few punches are thrown without rhyme or reason.
Let's take a closer look at one of the more famous "lucky punches" in boxing lore - Antonio Tarver's shocking knockout of Roy Jones Jr.
Roy came into the fight with a chip on his shoulder. This was the rematch of the worse beating of his career - a bout in which he took heavy punishment while escaping with a close decision.
In the first round, he held a very aggressive stance, drawing a line in the sand. The last time he had looked this aggressive was when he knocked out Montel Griffin. He was uncompromising in trying to counter almost every Tarver jab with two, three punch combinations.
But Tarver wasn't Montel Griffin. And what the 'lucky punch' pundits don't realize is that Roy's aggression made him very predictable.
Tarver came out in the second round looking to back Roy up by moving forward behind a probing jab. Jones, slightly troubled by it, wasn't as active as he was in the first stanza. That is, until Tarver grazed him with a hard left hand, and Roy went back to assertively countering Tarver's every move with quick rights to the body and head.
Tarver is an accomplished counter puncher himself. So he knew exactly what he was doing when he threw a jab as bait, slipped Roy's predictable right hand counter, and slammed a crushing overhand left into Roy's jaw as Roy tried to throw a hook. He knew what Roy was going to do in reaction to his jab and he knew that Roy wasn't backing up. That is, he knew Jones would be exactly where he needed to be for the counter to land squarely.
Antonio's eyes were indeed closed during his move. But review the great counter punchers in boxing and you'll see that they often land their counters without a constant eye on their opponent. The blind anticipation of where their opponent's head is going to be is an intuition they all share.
This "lucky punch" embodied the beauty of boxing. And it marked the end of a legacy.
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