By Elliot Worsell
NEXT month Andre Ward turns 40 and in doing so moves one year closer to achieving his goal.
That goal, his latest and no different than any other retired fighter’s, is essentially this: for age to become an obstacle so great that the idea of returning to the ring is no longer even an option.
In the case of Ward, retired now for seven years, he is almost at this point. Soon to turn 40, he will know that the tough period is nearly over and that only now the temptation of the miracle (read: ridiculous) comeback will tug at his arm and wink at him seductively from across the room. He will still feel capable of a comeback, of that there is no doubt, yet with each year that passes Ward’s name will inevitably become less relevant in the boxing scene – particularly as a potential opponent – and his body, meanwhile, gets older and therefore less capable of delivering the moves and feats his mind will be certain it can still produce.
No fool, Ward is aware of this more than most. Indeed, one could argue that an acute awareness of the difficulties of retirement is precisely what has allowed Andre Ward to be seen as the anomaly and that rare thing: the boxer who stayed true to his word. He has admitted that he is not immune to temptation and that he has been tempted to return more than once, but Ward, unlike so many, has so far managed to resist.
“Yeah, of course. I am hard-wired to compete,” he said in an interview with Stephen A. Smith last month. “The problem with retirement, and why other guys go to different vices, or depression sets in, is because they lose their identity and don’t redirect that drive. I’ve always been a man on a mission.
“Every now and again that hard-wiring gets active. It’s like I’ve had to retire multiple times. I’ve had to talk myself off the ledge (of coming out of retirement) multiple times. It’s not easy. Retirement is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. It’s been six years and nobody has called my name. There is a reason for that.”
Andre Ward (Christian Petersen/Getty Images)
Rather than denial, Ward’s words instead sounded more like a threat; if not quite a come-get-me plea, it wasn’t far off. Nor did they surprise, these words. After all, there has long been a feeling with Ward that he would be more than happy – and ready – to jump at any opportunity deemed to make financial sense and warrant a two- or three-month training camp. One suspects, too, that it wouldn’t necessarily be his competitive edge driving him on in that instance, but more the lure of making history, confounding the doubters, and becoming one of those champions adored for not only thriving first time around but then doing the same in what amounts to a “second life”.
In fact, that appeared to be the gist of the plan back in 2017 when Ward first retired. Many around that time believed that Ward, by retiring at 33, and just three months after stopping Sergey Kovalev in his career-best performance, was merely laying the groundwork for a great comeback, one that would boost him financially and deliver him the accolades he felt were lacking from his career. The thought was that he would go away for a bit, perhaps a year, and that the time away would allow two key things to happen: one, the light-heavyweight division would replenish its stock and introduce one or two fresh faces for Ward to fight; and two, absence would make hearts grow fonder and Ward, a brilliant boxer but an acquired taste, would be someone fans would be desperate to see return having missed him during his hiatus.
That it never unfolded this way probably speaks to both Ward’s mental fortitude – that is, his ability to stay true to himself – and his lack of box office appeal. Together, these two things defined his career, which ended with him boasting a record of 32-0, and they also defined what happened in the first six years of his retirement.
Because there can be no question Ward’s resistance to the comeback was helped not only by his own stubbornness and need to be proved right, but, equally, the ease with which boxing, as an industry, let him go. That is to say, for someone never deemed box office gold even when at his best, there was never going to be any desperate attempt on the part of the industry to drag him back, nor the same kind of effort made on the part of any light-heavyweights; not when Ward was considered such a difficult problem to solve in the first place.
It became very easy, in other words, for boxing to forget Ward. Not his achievements, that’s not it, but more his existence and the fact that for six (going on seven) years he would, unbeknown to most, be wrestling with the temptation all retired fighters must confront until eventually their age and body dictates that it leaves them alone.
“I am leaving because my body can no longer put up with the rigors of the sport and therefore my desire to fight is no longer there,” he had said when announcing his retirement, yet of course with time comes healing and also sometimes desire. In some cases, time away provides a freshening up, both physical and mental, and often this freshening up – on occasion confused with delusion – is what combines with opportunity to bring a boxer back to the ring.
However, with Ward this never happened. The freshening up presumably did, and maybe even his desire to compete returned, but no opportunity was ever considered good enough, in his mind, to marry these things up and for the trigger to be pulled. Perhaps, in truth, only a fight against Saul “Canelo” Alvarez, boxing’s big ticket, would have represented an opportunity sexy enough for Ward to ignore history’s cautionary tales. Perhaps only Alvarez knew the right words to say.
Canelo Alvarez (Getty Images)
“No, I don’t think he would have fought me,” Ward said in that same interview with Stephen A. Smith. “My name was never mentioned with Canelo Alvarez until he fought a common opponent in Sergey Kovalev.
“Kovalev, I don’t want to say he was shot, but he was on his way out the door. He wasn’t the ‘Krusher’ at that point in time. That was a strategic move, and that’s what Canelo does. People get mad when you say that, but he’s earned the right. He’s in the position with the fanfare that he has with a country behind him to pick and choose who he likes. That’s cool. You can do that.
“I respect Canelo for what he’s done and what he’s doing. But I don’t believe that if I was still active at the time he fought Kovalev he would have fought me because my name was never mentioned in the same breath as Canelo Alvarez. If I was active, I think it would have remained that way.”
As Canelo continues to compete and add names to his record, there remains a sense with Ward that his fight – or entire career – ended a punch too soon rather than a punch too late. That, as in a fight, is the preferred option of the two, of course it is, but it is no less debated and controversial, especially seeing as Ward, at 33, seemed to have the world at his feet in 2017.
Unlike a boxer in a fight saved for his own good by a premature stoppage, Ward was at that time on top, winning, making history. Then, for reasons he clearly articulated, he stopped his own fight. He stopped it when in control, he stopped it when additional victories seemed inevitable, and he stopped it when the world least expected it to be stopped.
Whether at that stage he ever expected to later return, only Ward will know. But now, at 40, Ward has reached the point at which the window of opportunity has closed to a crack and the hands of the clock can be heard ticking at double speed. This, in one respect, is an anxiety most welcome, for it suggests the retirement question will soon disappear and that will be that. Yet until it does disappear Ward must continue to fight it, all the while knowing that if he is to ever scratch the itch, one persistent for six and a half years, it really is now or never.
“I’ve always been different,” said Ward. “The road that God has me on, it’s different. It’s not going to look like Floyd’s (Mayweather) road and it’s not going to look like Roy’s (Jones) road. It’s going to be my road. This is a road I haven’t really seen anybody else travel. Boxing was a part of my life but it wasn’t my whole life. I wasn’t supposed to give my all and leave everything in the ring. I wasn’t supposed to be this guy for the masses and then when I come home in retirement my family doesn’t know who I am.”