Mayweather vs Ortiz: Why Boxing Needs Its Villain, Floyd Mayweather Jr

Some would argue that one of the basic tenets of writing is that every good story needs a villain.

Floyd Mayweather Jr is well aware of this line of thinking. It's not an accident that the walls of his Las Vegas gym are adorned with pictures of him dressed up as a 1920s gangster.

The basic elements of the photographs are the same: black hat, black dress shirt, white tie, white suspenders. In one picture, Mayweather is holding an automatic rifle. In another, he's fanning out dozens of hundred-dollar bills.

If most pictures are worth a thousand words, these images are worth but an important few: In the world of professional boxing, Floyd Mayweather has embraced the role of the villain.

Anyone familiar with Mayweather can see that he's wired differently than most athletes. While he enjoys the adulation from the millions of boxing fans that love him, he also knows that there are millions more who would love nothing more than to see him lose.

And he's perfectly fine with it.

"You have people who pay to see you win, and you got people who pay to see you lose," Mayweather said during an episode of HBO's "Mayweather-Ortiz 24/7" last week. "They both are fans because they both are paying."

Hate him or love him, there's no denying that at only 147 pounds, Floyd Mayweather is larger than life. His mystique dominates the sport even when his physical presence is nowhere to be found. 

Despite only fighting twice in the past 45 months, Mayweather is still the brightest star in the otherwise dismal galaxy of boxing. In a sport nearly bereft of personality, Mayweather has charisma to spare.

His charm is what earned him an invitation to Dancing with the Stars. His swagger is what led to several appearances at WWE events. Having been immersed in the sport of boxing since birth—his father and two of his uncles were all upper-echelon fighters—the man formerly known as "Pretty Boy" understands that personalities sell fights.

"I earned the right to be where I'm at today," Mayweather said in a press conference leading up to his fight with Victor Ortiz. "The only thing I can do is what I do best: entertain."

That entertainment comes both inside and outside of the ring. One minute, he's on Skype, thanking an elite U.S. Army combat unit stationed in Afghanistan for the work that they do protecting the country. The next, he's using the same web cam to give the soldiers a tour of his mansion, making sure to point out the suede walls and the $4 million collection of luxury cars.

Quite simply, Floyd Mayweather is a walking dichotomy. 

"The truth is, there's Floyd Mayweather and there's 'Money' Mayweather," Sports Illustrated's Bryan Armen Graham said in a recent interview on The Broad Street Line. "'Money' Mayweather is the character you see on TV."

"Money" Mayweather is the man who posts pictures of winning betting slips on Twitter. Floyd Mayweather is the one who donated 1,000 turkeys to needy Las Vegas families last Thanksgiving.

"Money" Mayweather is brash. Cocky. Confident to the point of arrogance. 

He's also undefeated.

As a professional, Mayweather has stepped into the ring 41 times. Forty-one times, he has left the ring victorious. As the only contender or champion in any weight class with that sort of resume, he's earned the right to boast a little.

"There are certain obstacles that are put in front of you," Mayweather told the Boston Herald. "But as long as I got a strong team, I just feel that no one can stop me. Things happen in life, but I'm 41-0, man. Can't nobody beat me."

One day at the Mayweather Boxing Club will give you a glimpse at how that remarkable record came to pass. Mayweather's pad work with trainer (and uncle) Roger Mayweather is a sight to behold. On cue, the pair engage in a beautifully choreographed dance—no motion is wasted as the two move in perfect concert around the ring. 

When Mayweather isn't training with his uncle on the mitts, you'll likely find him working the speed bag, which responds with machine-gun cadence while chants of "hard work" and "dedication" fill the gym.

This scene may play out at 3:00 in the afternoon or at 1:30 in the morning. It may be the first workout of the day, or it could be the third—Mayweather has a well-earned reputation of being a gym rat, and he makes a concerted effort to stay in shape, even when not preparing for a specific opponent.

However, when it comes to possible opponents for Floyd Mayweather, there's only one that most boxing fans truly care about. 

No story on Mayweather is complete without the requisite discussion of one of the few contenders that he has yet to face: WBO welterweight champion Manny Pacquiao. Pacquiao is generally regarded as the sport's best pound-for-pound fighter, and has been angling for a showdown with Mayweather for the better part of three years.

Ask five different people in both the Mayweather and Pacquiao camps and you'll wind up with 10 different stories as to why the fight hasn't already taken place. The main sticking point was Mayweather's insistence on Olympic-style drug testing—a demand that Pacquiao's camp has recently relented to.

In the interim, "Money" Mayweather continues to fire verbal jabs in regards to the issue. His repeated allusions to Pacquiao taking performance-enhancing drugs have spawned a defamation lawsuit, one of several cases currently pending against the former welterweight champion.

Litigation notwithstanding, the smart money says that there's too much money for either man to pass up in a potential fight. There's no question that a showdown between the two would be the highest grossing pay-per-view event in the history of the sport. Early estimates say that both Mayweather and Pacquiao could walk away with purses in the neighborhood of $50 million each. 

While Floyd Mayweather would love nothing more than to retire before facing a serious challenge to his unblemished record, the allure of a payday that large might be too difficult for him to resist. Until then, he'll continue sporting the proverbial black hat, quite confident in the fact that millions of people would pay to see someone knock it off of his head.

He wouldn't have it any other way.