I won’t be watching Mayweather-Pacquiao on Saturday night. It wasn’t the easiest decision because I really do love boxing. The individualism, the genuine pageantry, even the sheer danger of it – all bring an intrigue that no other sport can match. And because mega-fights are so hyped, the personalities so intensely dissected, the emotional charge that comes from picking a side and rooting like hell against the opponent can be euphoric.
In almost every way the “Fight of the Century” befits a classic good verses evil narrative. In one corner you have Manny Pacquiao, who while not exactly Mother Teresa, overcame a poverty-stricken childhood to become a world-class athlete, a high-ranking political official in the Philippines and a well-known philanthropist. In the other corner you have a serial abuser of women so enwrapped in hedonism that at this point he’s more famous for publicly flaunting his bottomless pit of a bank account than his undefeated professional record.
In sports the “love to hate” syndrome is rampant and sports villains tend to get our emotional juices flowing more than the good guys. The most recent Super Bowl was nicknamed the “Haters Super Bowl” by some because otherwise neutral fans loved to hate Seattle for their recent litany of drug suspensions and their outspoken cornerback, or New England because the franchise is far more decorated with scandals than Super Bowl rings. Not surprisingly Super Bowl XLIX was the most-watched event in US television history.
So in theory it should be a treat to throw down $99 and root like hell for Pacquiao to do to Floyd Mayweather what Mayweather’s done to so many women. But Mayweather’s not just someone who’s made a few mistakes. Boxing biggest star is so much worse than a sports villain. He’s a real villain.
Dating back to 2001, Mayweather has a consistent record of abuse against women, and tragically he is almost undefeated. He has been arrested or cited seven times for violence against five different women. Mayweather’s sole prison stint came in 2012 following a brutalising incident against Josie Harris, his former girlfriend and mother of three of his children, all because she was dating someone else. (Mayweather was engaged to another woman at the time.)
According to the police report, Mayweather “grabbed Harris by her hair and began striking her in the back of her head several times with a closed fist”. If not for their 11-year old son, Kuraun, escaping out the back door and calling for help, Harris later told USA Today her life could have ended that night. After striking a plea deal, Mayweather was sentenced to 90 days in jail and released after 60 for good behaviour.
These facts should be embedded in the brain space of every boxing fan but they are not because Mayweather also has a strong history of deflection and shaming his victims.
In an otherwise softball interview by Katie Couric last month Mayweather was asked about the incident with Harris and why he went to jail. “I’m black. I’m rich. And I’m outspoken,” Mayweather told Couric. “Those are three strikes right there. Did I restrain a woman that was on drugs? Yes, I did. So if they say that’s domestic violence, then, you know what? I’m guilty. I’m guilty of restraining a person.”
Couric shockingly just let that one sit, allowing Mayweather to cling to the disturbing notion that he was somehow the victim. Was Couric unaware that psychological abuse inflicted on a victim is often just as damaging as the physical part? Shame, guilt and blame can have reverberating effects and serve as key deterrents to an abuser taking action.
Over the past weekend, ESPN’s Outside the Lines did what Couric failed to do and detailed Mayweather’s history of domestic violence in thorough fashion. The facts speak for themselves but it was Mayweather’s refusal to address the allegations that was particularly frightening.
From the programme:
ESPN Reporter John Barr: “In your case there’s been actual convictions and no governing body has ever suspended you or sanctioned you. What message do you think that sends victims of domestic violence?”
Mayweather: “Honestly, I want everybody to tune in, May 2nd. Mayweather vs. Pacquiao. This is the fight that you can’t miss.”
Since Mayweather dodged the question, here is the answer from a domestic violence survivor who never reported her abuse to the police. She spoke to The Guardian on the condition of anonymity.
“When you allow him to keep perpetuating the delusional and selective memory of his violent past, you are in essence, endorsing his behaviour,” the survivor said. “It says to us – don’t bother going to the police or speaking up, because there are no true repercussions – keep this problem in the living room and bedroom where it belongs.”
No one involved in boxing is looking out for Mayweather’s victims. No one seems to care or understand how ignoring his crimes is psychologically damaging to all victims, and lays down a red carpet for other perpetrators. Boxing lacks a central figure or anything resembling a moral backbone. Stripping Mayweather of his WBC welterweight title or suspending him in some fashion is not in the monetary interest of the Nevada Boxing Commission or any commission for that matter. So they are enablers.
A sports villain typically makes a mistake, maybe several mistakes, though rarely of the serial and reverberating nature of Mayweather’s abuse. They are punished in some form. Most eventually issue an apology. You can devote time watching and rooting against them and still have a conscience.
But Mayweather is a different story. While I want him to lose and lose badly, the idea of seeing his face, hearing him talk and observing his glorification makes me want to hurl. So I’ll find something better to do Saturday night.
Melissa Jacobs is a former Emmy-award winning producer for ESPN and current managing editor of TheFootballGirl.com.