Floyd Mayweather is a bad man

There are few opportunities to see the best athlete in a given sport perform at their absolute peak level. This past Saturday night was one of them. For three minutes, the world was treated to the best that boxing has to offer.

Floyd Mayweather, Jr. took on Ricky Hatten in a title fight at the MGM in Vegas and I duly invited my fight friends over and stocked the fridge with beer. Having seen the snooze-fest that was Mayweather/De La Hoya back in May, I was merely hoping for a few punches to connect, hell, for a few punches to be thrown. The May fight offered only a glimpse at any action, so the thought of a brawler like Hatten taking the fight to Mayweather offered more promise than that of De La Hoya doing anything, including not fighting, to avoid being hurt in his last pro fight. And Hatten did his part. He went after Mayweather. He wasn't landing consistently but he was dictating the pace of the fight. Prefight, he had said that he was willing to take two or three punches if he could land one of his own, figuring his would pack more power. What he didn't count on was Mayweather's defensive skill, his hand speed and his own inability to land his power punches once he got inside. What he really didn't count on was anything like Round 8.

Quite simply, Round 8 was as good a statement round I have ever seen a fighter have. It was not the best round of boxing, for nothing can top Hagler/Hearns round 1, but it was the moment when Floyd Mayweather, Jr. solidified his place in history. His decision over De La Hoya was a dull affair against a past-his-prime opponent and left more doubters than believers. This was different. He had an opponent who sported a 43-0 record, one with 31 KO's, one who was taking the fight at him. He had an arena of screaming, singing, cheering Brits urging his opponent on. He had a legion of disbelievers, myself and 8 others around me, wanting to see him get put on his butt. And he did what true champions, the true elite, do.

He shut us up.

Quickly.

Three minutes of absolute devastation, absolute domination. As good a three minutes as any fighter has ever had, he showed why he talks the way he does, why he thinks himself above the rest, above all of us. Give Hatten a shred of credit: he stayed on his feet. Most wouldn't have. As Mayweather was pummeling him (and there is no other real way to accurately put it) he took it, literally, on the chin. Again. And again. But when the bell rang to end the round, it rang for all the Hatten fans, all those of us who hoped he could shut Mayweather, Jr. up. This fight, while not yet done, was over. The nine people in my living room knew it. Hatten knew it. And more than any of us, Mayweather could smile because he had known it all along.

Hatten succumbed two rounds later, as vicious lefts from Mayweather, Jr. left him tumbling into the corner and then to the middle of the canvas, but that was merely an epilogue to the best chapter that Floyd Mayweather, Jr. has ever given us and probably ever will.