Bernard Hopkins and the fallacy of fulfilled endings

Boxing fans will never witness a career arc like Bernard Hopkins’ again. Saturday night, Hopkins (55-8-2, 32 KOs), 51, fought hammer-fisted ranked light heavyweight contender Joe Smith Jr. in what was loudly billed as the final bout of a storied career that has included, amongst a myriad of accomplishments: 20 consecutive middleweight title defenses, winning the lineal light heavyweight title and becoming the oldest fighter ever to claim a major championship.

Hopkins also walks away from the sport with a 24-5-2 (13 KOs) record in world title fights and a 16-6-1 (6 KOs) mark against former or current champions. The facts of Hopkins’ career — combined with indelible moments like his evisceration of Felix Trinidad or pushups against Jean Pascal — are unimpeachable.

And yet, Hopkins — and anyone else who encouraged his attempted retirement celebration and spectacle — cannot erase the harsh and sad reality of Joe Smith Jr. (23-1, 19 KOs) literally knocking him clean out of the ring in the eighth round of a fight the unheralded challenger was clearly bossing. Nor can Hopkins’ excuse-laden post-fight interview — which the clearly groggy legend should not have been subjected to — be glossed over when reviewing this futile exercise in self-deception.

But first, from a purely boxing standpoint, it’s unfair to be too critical of Bernard Hopkins. Having defied the limitations of age for so long, it makes a modicum of sense that Hopkins felt himself fit for one more fight. And instead of bludgeoning some no-hoper, Hopkins, in characteristic fashion, took on a legitimate and dangerous foe, especially considering his own limitations and extended inactive stretch heading into the contest.

For the first time, though, Bernard Hopkins didn’t just fight well; rather, he fought well for a fifty-one-year-old. This was always a frightening prospect and one that, based on conventional wisdom, should have caught up with Hopkins, say, a decade ago. That it didn’t until now is a testament to Hopkins’ skills and intelligence.

That said, forget the knockout that will launch a thousand memes. What Hopkins-Smith reinforced more than anything is the fallacy of retirement nostalgia in sports — a disturbing trend that has recently found its most grotesque embodiments in Derek Jeter and Kobe Bryant.

Boxing, fortunately, doesn’t allow for extended celebratory tours, so no fan of the sweet science will ever have to suffer through the likes of Jeter and Bryant accepting gifts and watching sappy montages from dutiful subjects on a nightly basis. Instead, boxing’s brutal nature can provide a unique window into the purposelessness of such exercises in vanity.

Those who watched the Hopkins-Smith broadcast Saturday night will have noted that Smith’s ring walk was not televised because room needed to be made for a Hopkins tribute and interview. Between rounds of the televised undercard bouts, more clips of Hopkins soundbites invaded the screen. Indeed, Hopkins is charismatic and intelligent, but the problem with spectacles such as these is that it turns what is supposed to be a competitive sporting event into something that begs for one preordained outcome: a Hopkins win.

Bernard Hopkins, of course, isn’t exclusively to blame for this. Hopkins’ choice of Joe Smith Jr. as his final foe reflects the genuine desire to go out competing at an admirable level. However, the nature of what Hopkins-Smith devolved into, unfortunately, makes “The Executioner” fully complicit in this exhibition.

What’s also sobering is that Hopkins’ previous fight — a wide points loss to Sergey Kovalev — was the perfect ending to his career. Sure, Hopkins got outclassed by Kovalev, but he rose from a first-round knockdown and saw the final bell against one of the sport’s most hellacious punchers and top pound-for-pound operators; it was also a major championship unification fight. And, most importantly, it had poetic and symbolic resonance: The Kovalev loss was akin to Hopkins bowing to Father Time (as all must) while simultaneously landing a low blow on the referee’s blind side.

A Joe Smith Jr. victory, particularly via stoppage if Smith were to surprise a “suddenly” old Hopkins with his power, was at least abstractly acknowledged as possible. When it became likely as early as the final minute of the fight’s first round, another miserable aspect of Hopkins-Smith was made clear: the fight’s narrative as an extended apologia for Father Time catching up to Hopkins.

HBO’s broadcast crew did indeed praise Smith’s stunning win and seriously discussed his future prospects, which was both necessary and refreshing. However, every post-fight piece on Hopkins-Smith (including this one) orbits around Hopkins, with Smith as a mere footnote despite a win that should put him in fringe consideration for Fighter of the Year honors.

Whether you love or loathe Bernard Hopkins, no one should want to see a fighter knocked clean out of the ring and injured. No one should want to see any great champion humiliated. And no one should herald Smith’s performance as a deserved “lesson” instead of a dynamic athletic display in a fairly sanctioned boxing match.

But if there’s any central takeaway from Hopkins-Smith it has to be why anyone would be stunned that Hopkins suffered the same fate of virtually every all-time great who has hung on too long. Yes, Bernard Hopkins defied logic and odds that still seem impossible. Where the deception that clouded everyone’s judgment of Hopkins-Smith comes into play, though, is in the fallacy that a remarkable and winding story deserves a fulfilling ending.