Oscar Destroys Floyd In Letter Posted in Playboy

[man]

i think it is somewhat dishonest to hold floyd's
style against him. yes, he is never guns out
blazing, but that is the reason why is the most
successful boxer on the planet. he probably is
the fighter with the most efficient and intelligent
style ever.

plus he is not a stinker. yes, he doesn't make
fights, but he doesn't spoil them either. there
is no excessive grabbing or holding. he just
avoids being hit clean. nothing wrong with that,
and i am not a fan of his.

[jamesmcdonnell]

I admit it, I have an agenda.

My agenda is I find the majority, though of course not all, of Floyd's fight unexciting.

Back when he was fighting the likes of Corralles, he was great to watch, but as he moved up the weights, he generally became more and more conservative, and threw less shots.

If others enjoyed watching him fight over the latter stages of his career, then each to their own. I can't really say more than that.

[jamesmcdonnell]

Well, let's take the Hatton fight as an example shall we - I would however point out, that this fight was in 2007 - 8 years ago now, and my initial comment

The fight may have had a dramatic conclusion, but it wasn't a particularly exciting fight. For the first four rounds, Floyd spent most of the fight with his elbow stuck in Hatton's face, and held on whenever Hatton got close, and waited for Cortez to break up the fight. In fact, most of the attempted action came from Hatton, until he realised that Cortez was pretty much determined to penalise him if he attempted to close the distance and so he became frustrated - the excitement really was provided as a result of Hatton throwing himself forward recklessly resulting in a rare one punch KO for Floyd. It was a nice shot, but it was far from being a great fight. Hatton threw himself forward early on, not really landing much, and Floyd spoiled and fouled (you're not supposed to shove your elbows into your opponent's face as this is deemed as dangerous, the same as leading with the head), and then when Hatton became Reckless, took him out. If that's your definition of an exciting fight, then I guess we have different ideas of what constitutes excitement.

Gatti fight was pretty decent, Mayweather ripped him to pieces. However, this is an exception, everyone has their moments. Gatti was hopelessly overmatched, and Floyd did as he pleased. It was a good performance in the sense Floyd put his foot on the gas, something sadly, he was less and less inclined to do as his career went on. By the end, he'd become much like a smaller version of Hopkins. Another brilliant, but at times very hard to enjoy fighter.

I have no agenda, but I've sat up so many nights watching Floyd fight, hoping for excitement of some kind, ever since the DLH fight, I've realised I'm unlikely to get much action in any fight Floyd is in.

I was obviously exaggerating that he has no highlights, back when he was fighting the likes of Corralles and Castillo he was throwing a lot more shots, but the latter stages of his career, have been very tedious, and these are when he was at the highest profile stage. His desire to avoid getting hit, which is understandable, means he became completely risk averse, throwing just enough shots to win the majority of his fights.

I'm sorry if you find it hard to accept that many people have found Floyd boring for quite some time, but that's how it is.

It's funny how you aim all the BS going on in the Hatton vs Mayweather fight at Floyd but yet you say nothing about the Wrestling that Hatton was doing, if you thought anything Ricky was doing in that fight was boxing then you need to rethink your days as an "analyst" or whatever you claimed to have been in the past.

You keep saying over and over you have no agenda but it is as clear as day that you have a hard time even admitting the fight Floyd put on vs Gatti was exciting, that is really saying something about the type of person you are whether you know it or not.

You claimed he was boring and that his highlights would be a few seconds, I showed you otherwise and you still cannot admit the truth, sure some of his fights weren't all that exciting but remember there are two opponents in that ring and if they have been rendered totally ineffective because of Floyd's style then the onus is on the opponent to make him do something else in order to make it more of their fight.

You're supposed to be an analyst, I would think you'd be intellectually efficient enough to realize this but it's whatever.

Maybe the onus is on the opponent, however, there is no onus on me to enjoy his fights, or watch them.

I'm still kicking myself for staying up for Mayweather v Pacman, which is undoubtedly one of the worst high profile fights ever - though I certainly give Pacquaio blame for being so utterly clueless. I think Floyd could probably done as he pleased with him, and wish he'd have thrown and landed more shots - which would have made for a slightly more interesting spectacle - Floyd did play it ULTRA cautious, despite the fact Pacquaio posed very little threat. Sure, maybe he'd have posed a little more risk if Floyd engaged.

As others had said, had Floyd lost a fight earlier in his career, then perhaps he would not have been so conservative over the latter part of his career, when a fighter has had the '0' for so long, the fear of losing it becomes palpable.

[Chepppaaa]

oscar is 100 % right

[Carlos Danger]

Dear Floyd:

You did it. You made it to the 49–0 mark, a milestone that you like to say only the great Rocky -Marciano reached but that was actually achieved by others, including my idol Julio César Chávez—but who’s counting? And now you’re retiring. Again. (The first time was after our fight in 2007.) This time you say it’s for real. You’re serious about hanging up the gloves. On to bigger and better things. So I’m writing to you today to wish you a fond farewell. Truth be told, I’m not unhappy to see you retire. Neither are a lot of boxing fans. Scratch that. MOST boxing fans. Why? Because the fight game will be a better one without you in it.

Let’s face it: You were boring. Just take a look at your most recent performance, your last hurrah in the ring, a 12-round decision against Andre Berto. How to describe it? A bust? A disaster? A snooze fest? An affair so one-sided that on one judge’s card Berto didn’t win a single round? Everyone in boxing knew Berto didn’t have a chance. I think more people watched Family Guy reruns that night than tuned in to that pay-per-view bout. But I didn’t mind shelling out $75 for the HD broadcast. In fact it’s been a great investment. When my kids have trouble falling asleep, I don’t have to read to them anymore. I just play them your Berto fight. They don’t make it past round three.

Another reason boxing is better off without you: You were afraid. Afraid of taking chances. Afraid of risk. A perfect example is your greatest “triumph,” the long-awaited record-breaking fight between you and Manny Pacquiao. Nearly 4.5 million buys! More than $400 million in revenue! Headlines worldwide! How can that be bad for boxing? Because you lied. You promised action and entertainment and a battle for the ages, and you delivered none of the above. The problem is, that’s precisely how you want it. You should have fought Pacquiao five years ago, not five months ago. That, however, would have been too dangerous. Too risky. You’ve made a career out of being cautious. You won’t get in the ring unless you have an edge. Sure, you fought some big names. But they were past their prime. Hell, even when we fought in 2007—and I barely lost a split decision—I was at the tail end of my career. Then later you took on Mexican megastar Saúl “Canelo” -Álvarez, but he was too young and had to drop too much weight.

Me? I got into this business to take chances. I took on all comers in their prime. The evidence? I lost. Six times. After 31 wins, my first loss was to Félix Trinidad, and I learned a valuable lesson that is true both in the ring and in life: Don’t run. I didn’t stop taking on the best of the best. After beating Derrell Coley, I took on “Sugar” Shane Mosley at the height of his powers—undefeated and considered by many to be the pound-for-pound best in the world. Again, I lost. After four wins against more top-ranked fighters I took on Mosley again. We can debate who actually won the rematch, but the judges had me losing that one as well.

Did I go easy after that? No. I moved up to middleweight to win a belt and faced one of the greatest middleweights of all time, Bernard Hopkins. After a body shot that I’m still feeling took me out of the fight, I took on two more guys at the height of their power who, many years later, would finally face each other at the ages of 36 and 38—Manny Pacquiao and you. When fighters do that—when they risk losing—that’s when everyone wins. The mantra of my firm Golden Boy Promotions is simple: the best taking on the best. It’s too bad you didn’t do the same.

You took the easy way out. When you weren’t dancing around fading stars (show idea for you: Dancing Around the Fading Stars), you were beating up on outclassed opponents. A lot of your opponents were above-average fighters, but they weren’t your caliber. You’re a very talented fighter, the best defensive fighter of our generation. But what good is talent if you don’t test it? Muhammad Ali did. Sugar Ray Leonard did. You? Not a chance. You spent 2000 to 2010 facing forgettable opening acts like Victoriano Sosa, Phillip N’dou, DeMarcus Corley, Henry Bruseles and Sharmba Mitchell. There were guys out there—tough scary opponents like Antonio Margarito and Paul Williams—but you ran from them. Were you ever on the track team in high school? You would have been a star.

Boxing will also be a better place without the Mouth. Your mouth, to be precise, the one that created “Money” Mayweather. I know you needed that Money Mayweather persona. Before he—and Golden Boy -Promotions—came along, nobody watched your fights. You couldn’t even sell out your hometown of Grand Rapids, Michigan. The Mouth made you money. More money than you could spend in a lifetime. (Wait, I’ve seen those episodes of 24/7. You probably will spend it all.) But the Mouth doesn’t have a place in boxing; save it for the WWE. Unless you’re someone like Ali, whose fights were as scintillating as his banter, the all-talk, no-entertainment model cheapens our sport. Boxers should speak with their fists and with their hearts. They don’t have to say anything to prove themselves. You’re going to have a legacy. You’ll be remembered as the guy who made the most money. As for your fights? We’ve already forgotten them.

Now that you’re stepping aside, attention can be turned to the sport’s real stars: the brawlers, the brave, the boxers who want nothing more than to face the best and therefore be the best. There’s Canelo, Kazakh KO sensation Gennady Golovkin, ferocious flyweight Román González, slugger Sergey Kovalev and a host of up-and-comers including Terence Crawford, Vasyl Lomachenko and Keith Thurman. Want to see what a monster fight looks like? Canelo takes on Miguel Cotto on November 21. It won’t do 4.4 million in PPV buys, but everyone who watches it will be thrilled. And that’s no empty promise.

You’re moving on to a new phase of life now, a second act. I’m sure it will be nice not to have to train year-round. To get out of the gym and spend time with your family. But I’m wondering what you’re going to do. You have a lot of time and, at the moment, a lot of money. Maybe you’ll put your true skills to work and open a used-car dealership or run a circus. Or maybe you’ll wind up back on Dancing With the Stars. It’s a job that’s safe, pays well and lets you run around on stage. Something you’ve been doing for most of your career.

Agree

[Undefeated49-0]

Dear Floyd:

You did it. You made it to the 49–0 mark, a milestone that you like to say only the great Rocky -Marciano reached but that was actually achieved by others, including my idol Julio César Chávez—but who’s counting? And now you’re retiring. Again. (The first time was after our fight in 2007.) This time you say it’s for real. You’re serious about hanging up the gloves. On to bigger and better things. So I’m writing to you today to wish you a fond farewell. Truth be told, I’m not unhappy to see you retire. Neither are a lot of boxing fans. Scratch that. MOST boxing fans. Why? Because the fight game will be a better one without you in it.

Let’s face it: You were boring. Just take a look at your most recent performance, your last hurrah in the ring, a 12-round decision against Andre Berto. How to describe it? A bust? A disaster? A snooze fest? An affair so one-sided that on one judge’s card Berto didn’t win a single round? Everyone in boxing knew Berto didn’t have a chance. I think more people watched Family Guy reruns that night than tuned in to that pay-per-view bout. But I didn’t mind shelling out $75 for the HD broadcast. In fact it’s been a great investment. When my kids have trouble falling asleep, I don’t have to read to them anymore. I just play them your Berto fight. They don’t make it past round three.

Another reason boxing is better off without you: You were afraid. Afraid of taking chances. Afraid of risk. A perfect example is your greatest “triumph,” the long-awaited record-breaking fight between you and Manny Pacquiao. Nearly 4.5 million buys! More than $400 million in revenue! Headlines worldwide! How can that be bad for boxing? Because you lied. You promised action and entertainment and a battle for the ages, and you delivered none of the above. The problem is, that’s precisely how you want it. You should have fought Pacquiao five years ago, not five months ago. That, however, would have been too dangerous. Too risky. You’ve made a career out of being cautious. You won’t get in the ring unless you have an edge. Sure, you fought some big names. But they were past their prime. Hell, even when we fought in 2007—and I barely lost a split decision—I was at the tail end of my career. Then later you took on Mexican megastar Saúl “Canelo” -Álvarez, but he was too young and had to drop too much weight.

Me? I got into this business to take chances. I took on all comers in their prime. The evidence? I lost. Six times. After 31 wins, my first loss was to Félix Trinidad, and I learned a valuable lesson that is true both in the ring and in life: Don’t run. I didn’t stop taking on the best of the best. After beating Derrell Coley, I took on “Sugar” Shane Mosley at the height of his powers—undefeated and considered by many to be the pound-for-pound best in the world. Again, I lost. After four wins against more top-ranked fighters I took on Mosley again. We can debate who actually won the rematch, but the judges had me losing that one as well.

Did I go easy after that? No. I moved up to middleweight to win a belt and faced one of the greatest middleweights of all time, Bernard Hopkins. After a body shot that I’m still feeling took me out of the fight, I took on two more guys at the height of their power who, many years later, would finally face each other at the ages of 36 and 38—Manny Pacquiao and you. When fighters do that—when they risk losing—that’s when everyone wins. The mantra of my firm Golden Boy Promotions is simple: the best taking on the best. It’s too bad you didn’t do the same.

You took the easy way out. When you weren’t dancing around fading stars (show idea for you: Dancing Around the Fading Stars), you were beating up on outclassed opponents. A lot of your opponents were above-average fighters, but they weren’t your caliber. You’re a very talented fighter, the best defensive fighter of our generation. But what good is talent if you don’t test it? Muhammad Ali did. Sugar Ray Leonard did. You? Not a chance. You spent 2000 to 2010 facing forgettable opening acts like Victoriano Sosa, Phillip N’dou, DeMarcus Corley, Henry Bruseles and Sharmba Mitchell. There were guys out there—tough scary opponents like Antonio Margarito and Paul Williams—but you ran from them. Were you ever on the track team in high school? You would have been a star.

Boxing will also be a better place without the Mouth. Your mouth, to be precise, the one that created “Money” Mayweather. I know you needed that Money Mayweather persona. Before he—and Golden Boy -Promotions—came along, nobody watched your fights. You couldn’t even sell out your hometown of Grand Rapids, Michigan. The Mouth made you money. More money than you could spend in a lifetime. (Wait, I’ve seen those episodes of 24/7. You probably will spend it all.) But the Mouth doesn’t have a place in boxing; save it for the WWE. Unless you’re someone like Ali, whose fights were as scintillating as his banter, the all-talk, no-entertainment model cheapens our sport. Boxers should speak with their fists and with their hearts. They don’t have to say anything to prove themselves. You’re going to have a legacy. You’ll be remembered as the guy who made the most money. As for your fights? We’ve already forgotten them.

Now that you’re stepping aside, attention can be turned to the sport’s real stars: the brawlers, the brave, the boxers who want nothing more than to face the best and therefore be the best. There’s Canelo, Kazakh KO sensation Gennady Golovkin, ferocious flyweight Román González, slugger Sergey Kovalev and a host of up-and-comers including Terence Crawford, Vasyl Lomachenko and Keith Thurman. Want to see what a monster fight looks like? Canelo takes on Miguel Cotto on November 21. It won’t do 4.4 million in PPV buys, but everyone who watches it will be thrilled. And that’s no empty promise.

You’re moving on to a new phase of life now, a second act. I’m sure it will be nice not to have to train year-round. To get out of the gym and spend time with your family. But I’m wondering what you’re going to do. You have a lot of time and, at the moment, a lot of money. Maybe you’ll put your true skills to work and open a used-car dealership or run a circus. Or maybe you’ll wind up back on Dancing With the Stars. It’s a job that’s safe, pays well and lets you run around on stage. Something you’ve been doing for most of your career.

Agree

So you agree with all the proven lies that DLH wrote here?? Wow.

[Pureist]

What proven lies kbb

[Undefeated49-0]

What proven lies Undefeated49-0

Fixed!!


The BS of him making it sound as if it was Floyd's fault the fight with MP didn't happen sooner, I provided a video of Roach admitting it was Manny's fault plus a link that agrees with Freddy.

The BS of him claiming Floyd ducked Paul Williams, I provided a link of PW saying Floyd didn't duck him.

If anyone still agrees with that crap then there is nothing else left to say

[Bobbyptsd]

I like this new brut. He's even brutier than old brut, and old brut was pretty bruty.

[Carlos Danger]

Dear Floyd:

You did it. You made it to the 49–0 mark, a milestone that you like to say only the great Rocky -Marciano reached but that was actually achieved by others, including my idol Julio César Chávez—but who’s counting? And now you’re retiring. Again. (The first time was after our fight in 2007.) This time you say it’s for real. You’re serious about hanging up the gloves. On to bigger and better things. So I’m writing to you today to wish you a fond farewell. Truth be told, I’m not unhappy to see you retire. Neither are a lot of boxing fans. Scratch that. MOST boxing fans. Why? Because the fight game will be a better one without you in it.

Let’s face it: You were boring. Just take a look at your most recent performance, your last hurrah in the ring, a 12-round decision against Andre Berto. How to describe it? A bust? A disaster? A snooze fest? An affair so one-sided that on one judge’s card Berto didn’t win a single round? Everyone in boxing knew Berto didn’t have a chance. I think more people watched Family Guy reruns that night than tuned in to that pay-per-view bout. But I didn’t mind shelling out $75 for the HD broadcast. In fact it’s been a great investment. When my kids have trouble falling asleep, I don’t have to read to them anymore. I just play them your Berto fight. They don’t make it past round three.

Another reason boxing is better off without you: You were afraid. Afraid of taking chances. Afraid of risk. A perfect example is your greatest “triumph,” the long-awaited record-breaking fight between you and Manny Pacquiao. Nearly 4.5 million buys! More than $400 million in revenue! Headlines worldwide! How can that be bad for boxing? Because you lied. You promised action and entertainment and a battle for the ages, and you delivered none of the above. The problem is, that’s precisely how you want it. You should have fought Pacquiao five years ago, not five months ago. That, however, would have been too dangerous. Too risky. You’ve made a career out of being cautious. You won’t get in the ring unless you have an edge. Sure, you fought some big names. But they were past their prime. Hell, even when we fought in 2007—and I barely lost a split decision—I was at the tail end of my career. Then later you took on Mexican megastar Saúl “Canelo” -Álvarez, but he was too young and had to drop too much weight.

Me? I got into this business to take chances. I took on all comers in their prime. The evidence? I lost. Six times. After 31 wins, my first loss was to Félix Trinidad, and I learned a valuable lesson that is true both in the ring and in life: Don’t run. I didn’t stop taking on the best of the best. After beating Derrell Coley, I took on “Sugar” Shane Mosley at the height of his powers—undefeated and considered by many to be the pound-for-pound best in the world. Again, I lost. After four wins against more top-ranked fighters I took on Mosley again. We can debate who actually won the rematch, but the judges had me losing that one as well.

Did I go easy after that? No. I moved up to middleweight to win a belt and faced one of the greatest middleweights of all time, Bernard Hopkins. After a body shot that I’m still feeling took me out of the fight, I took on two more guys at the height of their power who, many years later, would finally face each other at the ages of 36 and 38—Manny Pacquiao and you. When fighters do that—when they risk losing—that’s when everyone wins. The mantra of my firm Golden Boy Promotions is simple: the best taking on the best. It’s too bad you didn’t do the same.

You took the easy way out. When you weren’t dancing around fading stars (show idea for you: Dancing Around the Fading Stars), you were beating up on outclassed opponents. A lot of your opponents were above-average fighters, but they weren’t your caliber. You’re a very talented fighter, the best defensive fighter of our generation. But what good is talent if you don’t test it? Muhammad Ali did. Sugar Ray Leonard did. You? Not a chance. You spent 2000 to 2010 facing forgettable opening acts like Victoriano Sosa, Phillip N’dou, DeMarcus Corley, Henry Bruseles and Sharmba Mitchell. There were guys out there—tough scary opponents like Antonio Margarito and Paul Williams—but you ran from them. Were you ever on the track team in high school? You would have been a star.

Boxing will also be a better place without the Mouth. Your mouth, to be precise, the one that created “Money” Mayweather. I know you needed that Money Mayweather persona. Before he—and Golden Boy -Promotions—came along, nobody watched your fights. You couldn’t even sell out your hometown of Grand Rapids, Michigan. The Mouth made you money. More money than you could spend in a lifetime. (Wait, I’ve seen those episodes of 24/7. You probably will spend it all.) But the Mouth doesn’t have a place in boxing; save it for the WWE. Unless you’re someone like Ali, whose fights were as scintillating as his banter, the all-talk, no-entertainment model cheapens our sport. Boxers should speak with their fists and with their hearts. They don’t have to say anything to prove themselves. You’re going to have a legacy. You’ll be remembered as the guy who made the most money. As for your fights? We’ve already forgotten them.

Now that you’re stepping aside, attention can be turned to the sport’s real stars: the brawlers, the brave, the boxers who want nothing more than to face the best and therefore be the best. There’s Canelo, Kazakh KO sensation Gennady Golovkin, ferocious flyweight Román González, slugger Sergey Kovalev and a host of up-and-comers including Terence Crawford, Vasyl Lomachenko and Keith Thurman. Want to see what a monster fight looks like? Canelo takes on Miguel Cotto on November 21. It won’t do 4.4 million in PPV buys, but everyone who watches it will be thrilled. And that’s no empty promise.

You’re moving on to a new phase of life now, a second act. I’m sure it will be nice not to have to train year-round. To get out of the gym and spend time with your family. But I’m wondering what you’re going to do. You have a lot of time and, at the moment, a lot of money. Maybe you’ll put your true skills to work and open a used-car dealership or run a circus. Or maybe you’ll wind up back on Dancing With the Stars. It’s a job that’s safe, pays well and lets you run around on stage. Something you’ve been doing for most of your career.

Agree

So you agree with all the proven lies that DLH wrote here?? Wow.

oh yaaasssssss

[koolkc107]

I think it has been pointed out already but it needs to be emphasized to underline the true extent of Oscar's butthurt.

GOLDEN BOY PROMOTED ALL BUT 2 FIGHTS MAYWEATHER HAS HAD SINCE 07.

Oscar co-signed each and every fight as great during those promotions, often framing them as
the best possible match that could be made at the time.

So what has changed?

Oscar revenue cut, that's what.

No Schaeffer (who Floyd and Ellerbee accurately point oint really ran Golden Boy), no money.

That is why Oscar wrote it.

It's all he has left. That and a pipedream that he can work Canelo or another GB fight into
Floyd's 50th, if it happens.

Pathetic.