The Future Of Boxing & The Art of Adaptation

History tells us that Gennady Golovkin will continue to knock out everything put in his path. He’ll leave a trail of ashes in his wake as he delivers his ‘presents’ to his fans before he ultimately meets his demise. It happened with Tyson. It happened with Roy Jones Jr. It will happen with Golovkin. The young trailblazers, those with the fame for the heavy fist always get their bite of humble pie. They find themselves staring at the lights as the next guy — bigger, stronger, faster — comes along and does what they once did to the older guys of their time. It’s part of the game. It’s part of the cycle of sport.

And when that happens, we’ll criticize Golovkin, or Sergey Kovalev, or whomever it may be just like we do with Mike. We’ll say Sergey had a ton of power and could land one hell of an accurate left hook, but he had no defense. Gennady never moved his head. Amir never learned to adapt to that one thing you saw him get hit with back in 2009 against Andriy Kotelnik.

But we’ll look back and smile. Just as we do with Mike. Just as we might do with Kobe Bryant. Every sport has their version of this story and we love it. It’s nostalgic to look back on. It was exhilarating. It transcends time for moments as we look back and teleport there, present and in the experience of it all with Tyson as he bobbed back and forth, with Golovkin as he threw his left hook, and with Kobe as he soared through the air with less than a second remaining.

It’s only those moments though. Life’s harsh reality is that it all ends. For those who pushed the boundary of what was normal or predictably possible, that time is brief. As if the universe can’t hold greatness for that long.

In soccer, there’s the story of David Beckham, Wayne Rooney, and Ronaldinho. Guys who were electrifying on the pitch. These were the guys that got the glory on and off the field and were handsomely rewarded.

In the NBA, there’s the story of Tracy McGrady, Derrick Rose, and Kobe Bryant. These guys got the glory. They got paid. They got the Nike endorsements.

On Saturday Night Live, there was John Belushi, Will Ferrell, and Chris Farley. These guys made it in movies, entered every living room in America and have their names enshrined in comedic immortality.

And boxing obviously has it’s share of those who’ve electrified the sport only to vanish as quick as they came. Salvador Sanchez, Edwin Valero, the list goes on and on.

While those mentioned above enjoy the romantic sentiments, there are those that actually live it. Only, we don’t talk about them. They don’t evoke a particular excitement in conversations as they’re brought up. Robert Horry, Phil Hartman, and Teddy Sheringham live in the same realm.

These are the guys whose longevity, ability to adapt, and simply being in the right place at the right time (by luck or not) have kept them relevant, yet on the outskirts of where the Beckham’s, Kobe’s, and Tyson’s of the world stayed.

Their reward hasn’t been as sweet. Perhaps over time, but these are the guys whose greatness isn’t fully seen until it’s too late. Tupac Shakur will forever live as a legend. A rap flash in the pan who left too soon. Busta Rhymes has outlived him and remained relevant far beyond anyone predicted. Tupac may win today, but over time as you dig into what Busta has accomplished, he too will have a home similar to Pac in Rap-lore.

This is the warning to Gennady Golovkin, Sergey Kovalev, Amir Khan and to every electrifying athlete out there. If history tells us one thing, it’s this: adapt. If life tells us one thing, it’s this: adapt. If fables tell us one thing, you get the picture.

What do Bernard Hopkins, Tim Duncan, and Paul Scholes have in common?

They are overshadowed and easily forgotten, despite consistent greatness and numerous accolades.

Bernard Hopkins was in the shadow of Roy Jones Jr for most of his career. Roy Jones was the most explosive, perhaps most talented athlete to exist on the planet till Lebron James came along. Hopkins never possessed what came natural to Roy, nor was he ever compensated like Jones was his with endorsements and universal admiration.

Tim Duncan had Kevin Garnett, Kobe Bryant, and a slew of other superstars to cast a shadow big enough to leave an all-time, top 10 talent forgotten by the public at large. Also included was a location and team atmosphere that aided Duncan’s absence from the public eye.

Paul Scholes had Zinedine Zidane, David Beckham, and Xavi as playmates whose abilities gained far more limelight than Scholes.

Hopkins, Duncan, and Scholes aren’t known for being entertaining to the casual fan. All take the approach of slow and steady wins the race. Rarely are their feats of the nature to earn a spot on the Sportscenter Top 10 list at the end of a night. There are even fewer viral clips of them that have caused an internet sensation. (Although they predate the internet culture.)

All three have gotten slapped with a boring tag. They’ve been counted out numerous times.

Yet their overall excellence persists.

Hopkins is set to unify the light heavyweight titles at 49 years old.

Duncan has the highest playoff win percentage of any player since he entered the league and just added a 5th championship to his collection.

Scholes’s teammates and contemporaries who played with him have stated he’s the best they’ve ever seen do it.

None possessed the raw physical talent of their peers. Scholes is 5’7. Hopkins’s greatest wins came after turning 30. Duncan has never used size or strength to dominate the post.

Roy Jones Jr, James Toney, and Oscar De La Hoya have come and gone as Hopkins continues to truck along.

Amare Stoudemire, Antawn Jamison, and Rasheed Wallace have come and (are just about gone) as Tim Duncan remains consistently excellent.

And as these 2 still make their pursuit of excellence, they’ve been labeled boring — despite their constant tweaking.

Almost as if there’s correlation between those who’ve adapted their skill set as they age and how they are perceived (boring, lucky, etc.) by the public.

And here is the dilemma. How long do you want to stay on top of the mountain? Not the mountain of greatness, but the mountain of popularity. The more attractive of the two. The one Michael Jordan sat on.

There is a crucial point we’re reaching with certain fighters and players in various sports regarding their time on top of the mountain. In boxing, can Floyd Mayweather keep adjusting his style and overall game to maintain his undefeated record? Can Kobe Bryant leave behind the explosiveness that allowed him to will his team to win games in order to maintain competitive relevancy?

And if they do somehow manage, will we even care?

Hopkins, Duncan, and Scholes have largely been ignored after they adjusted and tweaked their style to suit their advancing age.

Hopkins has slowed down his game, become ultra-defensive, and mastered winning mental battles for any competitive edge he could get. Since turning 40 he’s fought 16 times. 12 have been for a world title. He’s lost 5 times, but you can only say 1 was completely decisive.

Duncan is called The Big Fundamental for a reason. His footwork, positioning, and acute awareness have been crucial to his prolonged success. Tim Duncan’s efficiency, and per 48 numbers are staggering.

Scholes left behind his need to play a young man’s game and allowed his calm and patience to seize opportunities and milk them for what they’re worth.

That brings us back to the present.

It seems our favorites, the crowd pleasers, and the ones we pay top dollar to see in their prime fail often fail to make adjustments. Especially in boxing. How often do we see boxers who dominated in their ‘prime’ with an explosive, exciting style make the move to an ‘old-man’s game’ and stay relevant?

Bernard Hopkins? Is that it?

It’s almost more fun, certainly easier, to just list those who couldn’t or didn’t adjust, adapt, and evolve.

(There are those right now with natural ‘old-man styles,’ but those guys shouldn’t count here.)

I was watching old Bernard Hopkins fights. The guy back then is not the guy we watch now. Sure, his footwork and timing were there in those early fights, but his style resembled what we see from Gennady Golovkin. A stalker who walked his opponents down, trapped them, forced them to make a move out of fear, and then made them pay.

That Hopkins is gone. What we’re left with is smoke and mirrors or flawless neutralization. Your personal opinion will determine which is accurate.

And now we look at those we love right now. The Floyd Mayweather’s, the Gennady Golovkin’s, and the Manny Pacquiao’s of the sport. The budding Sergey Kovalev’s, the rising Amir Khan’s, and the future of the sport Deontay Wilder’s. We have them now, in the present for however long they can maintain their athleticism. But like many who’ve failed before, it’s only as good as long as they have the physical edge. Once it’s gone, so are they. They can struggle to remain relevant, taking fringe fights across the Aegean Sea like the Satchel Paige late in his life, but at that point, what’s the difference between them and a sideshow?

If Gennady Golovkin and the other futures of the sport want to stay past the normal expectancy, they, like staphylococcus, the finches of the Galapagos islands, penicillin resistant strains of gonorrhea, Tim Duncan, Paul Scholes, and Bernard Hopkins must adapt. Or else they will find that time is an unforgiving and undefeated opponent.