ESPN The Magazine recaps the best moments from the week that was in Las Vegas

ESPN The Magazine recaps the best moments from the week that was in Las Vegas

LAS VEGAS -- What might you tell her?

What would you know Canelo Alvarez's mother, Ana Maria, at 10:58 p.m. local time inside Dressing Room three of the MGM Grand Garden Arena?


Just 90 minutes earlier, the complete room we hadn't only been grinning but crooning. Chepo Reynoso, Alvarez's insistently joyous longtime trainer, had led everyone -- family, cameramen, aides, hangers-on -- in the group song: "Vamos, Canelo, vamos! Vamos a ganar!" Translation: "Let's go, Canelo, let's go! We're gonna win!"

But afterward, as a result of Floyd Mayweather's clinical dismantling of Chepo's lyrical prediction, the place was a funeral. Alvarez, head hanging for the first time in forever, had dragged himself to the bathroom, shell-shocked, resembling someone whose knowledge of himself had changed permanently. Chepo leaned backward against a sink, contemplating the ground, silent. And looking at a locker sat Ana Maria, a short, kind-looking woman wearing black pants and a purplish silk blouse. She wiped away tears, watching the best day's her youngest child's life suddenly become the worst.

It absolutely was at 7:20 p.m. -- eons ago -- when Ana Maria had first walked into this room to cheers and applause. A pair of Canelo's six older brothers, Victor and Ricardo, immediately rushed onto hug her, lovingly teasing her about the fancy makeup she was wearing and her perm. Before Alvarez had his hands wrapped, she'd made the manifestation of the cross before him, touching his forehead with two fingers, then his chest, then his right shoulder, and after that his left, ending with a kiss.

Nearly four hours later, for years, no-one could bear to express anything to her.

It took Richard Schaefer, the CEO of Golden Boy Promotions, to finally venture an effort.

Then Eric Gomez, Golden Boy's matchmaker, joined in to indicate the night's savior (which doubled as the night's most glaring injustice): "It absolutely was a number decision."

So that it was. Through 11:25 p.m., two men walked up to the wall behind Ana Maria and simplified the black fabric covering patterned together with the words "GOLDEN BOY." One minute later, two other men tore along the wall to her right, the one patterned with "SHOWTIME," and collapsed its metal frame directly in front of her chair, forcing her to sit sideways.

Yes, for all your months and cash spent promoting this megafight, when it was over, it turned out over, exactly like everything else. Before Alvarez had even left the ring after the fight, the top screens when it comes to had all switched onto advertisements for Cirque du Soleil. Outside, on Las Vegas Boulevard, buses carrying signs for one more boxing event -- Timothy Bradley versus Juan Manuel Marquez -- drove past.

There was a well known prefight thought, posited by fans and journalists alike, until this fight would be a clear win-win for Ana Maria's son. That Alvarez, who had been largely unknown for the average American consumer, would reap untold advantages from an advertising tour with Mayweather. That Alvarez, who'd no time before sniffed an eight-figure payday, would make more money in a single night -- $12 million, at the very least -- than he did in 43 others. That Alvarez, that's just 23, would be this kind of underdog which a loss on the best fighter of the generation may not really be a reduction at all.

So much holds true, as it happens, apart from the part about it feeling like not defeat.

Could Alvarez 1 day retire, as Mayweather said at the post-fight news conference, as being a Hall of Famer? Could Alvarez have actually acquitted himself relatively well, due to the peerless speed and timing and savvy of his opponent, even if most journalists had Mayweather pitching something all-around a shutout? Could Alvarez, still so young, did enough for any rematch, and revenge, in the future?

Yes, yes and possibly. But no solutions to those questions made anyone in this room feel better.

The truth is that Alvarez must now wonder whether he is truly a great fighter -- as sharing a stage with Mayweather suggests -- or just a great fighter, destined for your side of another bus rolling by.

It had been 11:33 p.m. when Alvarez finally emerged in the bathroom, wearing a black suit with a white T-shirt. He jammed his hands as part of his pants pockets with his fantastic famous red hair fell over his forehead, uncharacteristically uncombed. While he passed Ana Maria, who had been still seated, expecting him pretty much everything time, he stopped and they also looked at each other, briefly, before he continued out into the hallway.

There were nothing left to state.