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TYPICALLY, the end of a career is not something a boxer gets to choose. Rather, it is something forced upon them, something that often blindsides them, and something they refuse to acknowledge exists so as to avoid what it actually represents. It is not, like a fight, something they can control in any traditional sense by using their left and right hands, nor is it something that can be scheduled in advance or booked in. It is instead something that comes along when the time is right – or wrong – and proves an opponent sneakier and more durable than any other. Once it’s on you, attached to you, it stays right there, on your chest. The idea of it never leaves you alone.
An inexact science, there is of course no right or wrong way to do retirement. Most would like to retire on top, having just won a big fight and preserved their unbeaten record, yet that, for the majority, is the stuff of dreams; a luxury enjoyed only by the likes of Floyd Mayweather, Joe Calzaghe, and Andre Ward.
Even then, the so-called dream is not all it’s cracked up to be. After all, consider the temptation to return and extend that winning run while the going is still relatively good. Consider, also, the difficulty an unbeaten fighter has accepting they are bowing out at a time when their skills are sufficient to keep winning fights and banking paydays.
Indeed, a better ending might be this: getting out when in and around the top of the mountain but just slightly on the descent rather than ascending or at the very apex. In other words, it could be argued that the retirement sweet spot is found at the point at which a boxer realizes they have lost a step but that this losing of a step is not yet enough to trigger some almighty downfall.
There is perhaps no purer example of this than when Lennox Lewis staggered his way to a sixth-round stoppage win against Vitali Klitschko in 2003. That night in Los Angeles Lewis, at 37, was a shadow of his former self and understood the dangers of taking on one of the new breed of heavyweights – at short notice no less – only when it was too late and the fight had started. By that point he had his hands full, he was eating punches he would normally evade, and his own punches were damaging only Klitschko’s eye, not his ambition. It appeared for all the world that Lewis was destined to lose, and the torch was about to be passed, yet somehow he stuck in there despite his troubles and eventually the bout was halted on account of Klitschko’s cuts. Cue outrage. Cue cries of injustice. Cue calls for a rematch.
Only there was never a rematch. In fact, rather than allow pride to trump common sense, and rather than let the taunts of Vitali Klitschko overpower his own thoughts, Lewis simply walked away, content to finish on that note. It was still a win, after all. It was not his best win, no, nor a win anybody deemed remotely convincing, yet, in the end, when viewed in the context of retirement and the final chapter of a boxer’s career, there is maybe no better win for a boxer to secure than the one Lewis experienced against Klitschko in 2003. It was both a win and a warning.
In the case of cruiserweight Mairis Briedis, who announced his retirement yesterday (August 19), there is a sense that he too has found the sweet spot and accepted that the time is right. Unlike Lewis, Briedis’ retirement comes following a defeat – two, in fact – but these defeats were in world title fights. Moreover, they were close fights, competitive fights, and came at the hands of a man many believe represents both the present and future of the cruiserweight division: Jai Opetaia. In neither fight was Briedis stopped and, in truth, there were no obvious signs of regression from fight one to two, despite the fact Briedis is now 39 years of age. He battled so well against Opetaia in May, in fact, that many fans would still back Briedis to have his way with the rest of the division; that is, anyone not named Jai Opetaia.
For a fighter, any fighter, there can be no better response to a defeat than that. Also, for a man nearly 40, there can be no better note on which to leave.
“Dear friends, fans, and loved ones,” Briedis, 28-3 (20), wrote on social media, “25 years ago, I went into the unknown, putting on boxing gloves for the first time, not yet aware that it would lead me to a career as a professional athlete. Boxing, over time, became my passion, career, and a big part of my life.
“Today, I want to share a decision that was not easy for me to make. Firstly, because the road that I have travelled over the years has been filled with so many unforgettable moments and joys of victory, it has made me the person I am today and has allowed me to pursue new goals and achievements all this time, which has served as a drive for me to always strive for more.
“I would like to say thank you for these 25 years and officially announce the end of my professional boxing career.
“Every fight, especially those that took place in Latvia, was special to me. I’ve always felt incredible support from my peers and that’s what inspired me to reach higher and even higher goals and achievements. This support and energy I felt from you guys made my boxing career unforgettable. Whatever – boxing, it wasn’t just a career – it was a life filled with passion, emotions, and dreams. But it’s time to say goodbye to the ring and open a new chapter in my life.”
At his best, the all-action Latvian was good enough to push Oleksandr Usyk to the wire in 2018, giving the Ukrainian arguably the toughest fight of his career. He was also good enough to win WBC, WBO and IBF cruiserweight belts, and beat the likes of Marco Huck, Yuniel Dorticos and Krzysztof Glowacki along the way. That he then fell short twice against Opetaia is no disgrace, for reasons already mentioned, and if anything, those losses should now be seen as a gift; a heads-up from Father Time. Because, as painful as it may have been to share those 24 rounds with the Australian, Briedis now knows what so many fighters ignore until it is too late. He knows now that the time is right to say goodbye and that, while still equipped to beat various other cruiserweights, perhaps even belt-holders, never will he be able to scale the heights of old or be what he was in 2018. To acknowledge this and then accept this is, for any fighter flirting with retirement, half the battle. Now all Briedis must do is beat his final opponent: temptation.