Andre Ward: My Way

It is written that the “Son of Man” will return as ‘a thief in the night', and so it is that Andre “SOG” Ward disappears in broad daylight. He will not return– for that is not the man that he is. A Man, better at being that than the fighter he was.

A pugilistic Picasso of neutral colors, Ward will be remembered in the annals of boxing history as the game's version of Tim Duncan, “The Big Fundamental”; a dimly lit superstar who simply got the job done in ways so basic, over such a long period of time, that it had to be considered superlative.

The greatest super middleweight fighter of all-time will not appear on the cover of Sports Illustrated next week, but he was never in any magazine story or newspaper for the wrong reasons. Ward was the contemporary antithesis of “Money” and the epitome of everything essential Roy Jones Jr. wished he could be. He was Bernard Hopkins without a penitentiary cell or a bullhorn. Sugar Ray Leonard unsweetened without a 7-UP commercial.

Unlike Charles Barkley, he was very proudly [a role model].

If we are brave enough to say goodbye too soon, life almost always rewards us with a new hello before too long. As if Jordan on Sergey Kovalev, the “Son of God” Byron Russell'd the mighty Russian light heavyweight to essentially close out a Hall of Fame career all net. Though leaving us wondering what could've been, the world's best fighter drops the mic Sinatra style, while knowing that you know still, he could win.

I thank you for your part in my journey.