Floyd Mayweather: When ‘Money’ is the brand and burden

Floyd Mayweather Jr., by boxing standards, had the perfect swan song. Fifty fights. Fifty wins. Zero losses. And, most importantly to Mayweather, more money than anyone in the sport had ever made.

When the boxing legend retired in 2017 following his Las Vegas spectacle of a match with Conor McGregor, a return for Mayweather was always possible. But it never seemed in the cards.

Until now.

Mayweather, now 49 years old, confirmed his return to the sport last week. Following his April 2025 exhibition match with Mike Tyson, the man known as “Money” resumes his professional career in September in a rematch 11 years in the making against longtime foe and fellow legend Manny Pacquiao. Boxers don’t make the money Mayweather made over the years of his illustrious, dominant, and, to a fault, curated career. Boxers rarely ever retire atop the mountain. Boxing traditionally picks the way a career ends — not the boxer.

So the core question remains: If you already dominated and beat the sport, why come back? The answer doesn’t require much digging. With Mayweather, the answer is always in the form of a check. Or direct deposit. 

“I still have what it takes to set more records in the sport of boxing,” Mayweather said in a written statement to ESPN’s Andreas Hale. “From my upcoming Mike Tyson event to my next professional fight afterwards — no one will generate a bigger gate, have a larger global broadcast audience, and generate more money with each event — than my events. And I plan to keep doing it with my global media partner, CSI Sports/FIGHT SPORTS.”

“Money” was never just a nickname. For Mayweather, money was branding. Money turned Mayweather into a capitalist American dream — proof, performance, and a sharp critique of it. Money was his armor for whatever criticisms — and there are many in and out of the ring — came his way. Money was, and still is, his main (if not only) worldview. He didn’t just win every time he stepped in the ring. Mayweather did something far more provocative in American pop culture: He monetized villainy. Understanding that makes Mayweather’s return far more reasonable in a sense.

When wealth is the brand, staying away is complicated. Not when there’s always one more check to clear.

The history of boxing is littered with pugilists who fought too long, retired with little to no money, and some died with even less.

In the twilight of his greatness, Muhammad Ali brutally remained in the ring. The decision, in time, robbed him of his quality of life. Paydays were critical, but the final chapter of Ali’s career was barbaric — excruciating not only for fans, but for the men he traded blows with. Mike Tyson never hid his financial struggles, returning to boxing in the mid-2000s in a feverish search for survival money. George Foreman came back to the ring in 1987 to help fund his youth center.

In June 2021, Mayweather, when asked about a potential return, firmly said, “Absolutely not.”

“I got all my faculties, made a ton of money,” Mayweather said then. “Hey, money ain’t everything. Well, I know we got to eat food every day to survive so we can live longer … and that takes money.”

Ali fought reluctantly. Tyson was desperate. And Foreman’s spirituality led him back to the ring. Mayweather flipped the script. None of the boxers denied that money was the inspiration to fight as long as they did. Mayweather just removed all shame from the paper chase.

It presents a myriad of questions. If Mayweather’s fortune is secure, why is a comeback even necessary? Is his lavish lifestyle — the private jets, entourage, watches, cars, endless stacks of cash (at Lakers games) — too expensive to permanently retire from? At what point does “easy money” become “necessary money?”

Wealth is the wallet of its beholder. If Elon Musk woke up with Jerry Jones’ bank account, he’d have a nervous breakdown. If Jerry Jones woke up with Mayweather’s bank account, he wouldn’t be the owner of the Dallas Cowboys anymore.

Mayweather’s return to boxing isn’t directly a sign of financial hardship. His net worth reportedly hovers around $400 million. One of the greatest showmen and technicians in boxing history, Mayweather was the sport’s most dependable lifeline for years. He, perhaps, still is. A byproduct was his very public obsession with money. He runs in circles where nine-figure bank accounts are icebreakers.

So by Mayweather’s logic, why not return to the only job that can make him more money in one hour than nearly every person on Earth will see in a lifetime?

Boxing, especially for Black boxers, has always been a fantasy of financial independence. Generational wealth starts — and, in some cases, ends — with them. For Mayweather, though, boxing has always been the path of financial exceptionalism.

Mayweather’s return isn’t about the idea of losing — 50-0 is already a hallowed mark, no matter if one subscribes to the belief he cherry-picked fights later in his career. His place in boxing history is solidified.

What is at risk, though, is a diminished mystique. Sports are filled with legends who stayed to punch the clock for far too long. The record he retired with in 2017 works because it’s clean. The headline blurs as more footnotes are added.

Mayweather was the center of boxing’s solar system for a generation. It perhaps wasn’t the most salient business model for long-term growth — but it made many insanely rich in the process, including Showtime, the bullseye of a lawsuit Mayweather filed this month for “at least $340 million” in “misappropriated funds.”

Nonetheless, this isn’t a comeback fueled by the love of the game. Silence is harder than sparring. Leaving money on the table — no matter how circus act it may feel — is even harder.

Mayweather’s entire persona is rooted in excess — excess skill (which he appears to still have), excess wealth, excess confidence, excess controversy. For someone built that way, moderation can feel less like gratitude and more like erasure.

His next two fights come against Tyson and Pacquiao — icons whose primes feel mythic to fans too young to remember them in real time. The draw is obvious. It always is.

Every decision Mayweather makes is filtered through the same lens that built the aura around him: money as the motive, proof and identity. Stepping back into a space designed to take from fighters isn’t a risk to him. It’s work — and no one has ever finessed the sport more profitably.

This isn’t about one more fight. It’s about why “enough” never quite arrives for him. Not enough applause. Not enough relevance. Not enough proof. Not enough…money. 

Mayweather never lost a professional fight. But the one opponent he has never quite defeated — and likely never will — is the hunger for more.

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