CONQUEST BEGAT EPIPHANY. You don’t just decide to make $40 million a fight. You don’t just decide to be your own promoter and set ticket prices and pay-per-view prices; you have to put in the work in the ring. There are times when that ego comes in handy too.
After defeating Zab Judah in 2006, a fight in which Uncle Roger earned a one-year suspension for entering the ring and scuffling with Judah and his father, Mayweather did something unique in boxing: He became a free agent. For a guy who’d already built a 10-year resume as an undefeated pro who put fans in the seats, this represented going all-in. He divorced himself from promoter Bob Arum’s Top Rank by paying out a $750,000 buyout clause. Arum had offered Mayweather an $8 million guarantee to fight Antonio Margarito. The fighter and the promoter disagreed wildly on Mayweather’s worth, and Arum publicly scoffed at Floyd’s contention that a fight with De La Hoya could earn him $20 million.
On May 5, 2007, in his second fight as his own promoter working in conjunction with Golden Boy Promotions, De La Hoya’s company, Mayweather beat De La Hoya, the WBC light middleweight champ, in a fight that generated a record 2.15 million pay-per-view buys. It produced more than $200 million — including a record $19 million live gate and $120 million on PPV — and made Mayweather realize he could take economic control. He says he went from making $5 million to $7 million per fight to at least five times that in each of his five fights since splitting with Arum.
“Floyd’s nickname before that fight was Pretty Boy Floyd,” says Richard Schaefer, president of Golden Boy. “Afterward, he became Money Mayweather. That’s no coincidence.”
Behind the scenes, Mayweather took the necessary steps to maximize his financial power. He made an adviser out of music-promoter-turned-boxing-impresario Al Haymon, a famously reclusive, Harvard-educated marketing genius. Ellerbe, who runs Mayweather Promotions, takes the fighter’s ideas to the negotiating table, with Haymon’s guidance always a phone call away (they speak 12 times a day). Ellerbe is also the guy who spends seven hours in a Mayweather-Cotto marketing meeting in LA while Floyd trains.
It costs roughly $10 million in fees — site rental, infrastructure, promotions — to put on a big fight. Mayweather Promotions essentially fronts the money, paying Golden Boy on a per-fight basis to handle logistics. As Ellerbe describes the relationship, “If you run a construction company, you have to hire someone to pour the cement.”
Says Mayweather: “I feel that sometimes my name is spoken in a bad way, but never in business. In business, it’s spoken in a good way. I’ve always done good business.”
HE HAS MADE $30 million to $40 million for each of his past four fights. His last three have produced more than a million PPV buys apiece, another record. He partnered with 50 Cent on a movie production company and has his own record label. He says he eschews endorsement deals despite many offers — “I don’t want to sell myself short for a company,” he says.
The formula is obvious: Who makes money on Mayweather? Mayweather
.
“In everything he does, Floyd’s betting on himself.” Ellerbe says. “He puts up the money, bets on himself and hits a home run every time.”
And there’s nothing Mayweather loves more than a sure thing.
Which brings us, inevitably, to Pacquiao, the one fight the world wants to see.
Mayweather contends he doesn’t need Pacquiao as much as the Filipino fighter needs him. This, more than fear, seems to be the root of the disagreement. Why? Because Mayweather took control of his career, and he believes Pacquiao is working under the old paradigm, generating money but not realizing it. According to Mayweather, the $40 million guarantee he offered Pacquiao far exceeds whatever he’s made in any one fight; how Pacquiao’s camp splits it up is not Mayweather’s business.
“The money that Floyd offered him, Floyd makes in every fight,” Ellerbe says. “Factual.” Michael Koncz, Pacquiao’s adviser, met with Mayweather several times to try to hammer out a deal. “I was pleasantly surprised,” Koncz says. “Floyd was very professional, very cordial and very knowledgeable. He’s a good businessman, and there was not one curse word between us.” Still, he says it would be stupid for his fighter, who is 54-3-2 in his career and an eight-weight-class champion, to accept $40 million on a fight that will reach $150 million to $250 million in revenue. Take away roughly $10 million in fees and a 50-50 split means at least $70 million each. “Why would Manny accept $40 million?” Koncz asks.
Because, Mayweather says, Pacquiao can’t get that much anywhere else. But Koncz says Mayweather’s math is faulty when he says the two men earn at far different rates. “Floyd’s not making more than us,” he says. “People have convinced him that Manny’s making much less, and that’s not true.”
The sniping, going on two years, is nasty and often sophomoric. Pacquiao is proceeding with a defamation suit against Mayweather in response to his rival’s suggestions that Pacquiao’s success is due, in some part, to performance-enhancing drugs.
It’s the ultimate test of Mayweather’s boxing ability–and his business savvy. Regardless of what Mayweather thinks of Pacquiao’s tactics, it’s clear his adversary is not the traditional subservient fighter. Pacquiao isn’t taking what’s offered with a smile and a thank-you. He and his people have watched Mayweather. They now understand a boxer’s worth too.
During one of their talks, according to Koncz, Mayweather dropped his guard.
“What if I lose?” Koncz says Mayweather asked. Taken aback, Koncz answered: “Well, what if you do? Then we’ll have a rematch and make even more money.”