Lackluster loss raises questions about Briggs' desire

	Shannon Briggs was outgunned and outclassed by Sultan Ibragimov, whose previous claim to fame was winning the silver medal in the 2000 Olympics. Tom Briglia/WireImage.com
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ATLANTIC CITY -- I won't begin to disrespect Shannon Briggs by referring to him as anything other than a survivor. Born with severe asthma (he takes up to seven different medications every day), Briggs was the product of a broken, busted and dysfunctional home (no one term does it justice). Raised in the poverty stricken Atlantic Towers in Brownsville, N.Y., by a drug-dependent mother who overdosed on his 25th birthday and a father who kicked him to the curb over his love for boxing and a can of peas. (He later died in prison.) To make ends meet Briggs would hustle chess games in New York City parks. "But I sucked," says Briggs. "Good days I would be up $5. Bad days I would be down $20."

Those years seemingly blend together so you can forgive Briggs if his memory is a little fuzzy. As a teenager Briggs and his mother were evicted from their home and floated from house to apartment to subway platform on a nightly basis. When Briggs wound up in prison a few years later for robbery, it was his father, Willis McDonald, who was there to pick him up. Briggs eventually moved in with him but the relationship never took. Dad wanted son to get a job and contribute to the household. Son wanted to box. The sport had been a savior to him since he first discovered it at 15. He began training with one of his friend's father and it was love first punch. Training equipment was makeshift and sparring matches consisted of Briggs and his opponent going at it on basketball court with a circle of bystanders serving as ring ropes.

"But," says Briggs. "I found that a lot of guys who were tougher than me, I could kick their ass with the gloves on.

Dad didn't see the appeal and the two would argue over Briggs's future on a regular basis. The last straw came when Briggs ate a can of peas his father had bought.

"I stole a steak," says Briggs. "And I wanted some peas with it. We had a fight about me taking his peas and he kicked me out."

Well, at least he had a good reason.

But enduring the trials and tribulations of a difficult childhood comes with a price: in this case, it was the WBO heavyweight championship Briggs lost in a unanimous decision to unheralded Sultan Ibragimov in front of a sparse crowd at Boardwalk Hall in Atlantic City. Though the size discrepancy between the two pugilists made the fight resemble an offensive lineman picking on the waterboy, Briggs was outgunned and outclassed by Ibragimov, whose previous claim to fame was winning the silver medal in the 2000 Olympics. For 12 rounds Ibragimov took the fight to Briggs, busting the champions' lip in the ninth and sending him toppling to the mat with an emphatic shove in the tenth. For those lacking a visual, it bore a striking resemblance to an oak tree toppling over in the forest. Three judges scored Ibragimov the winner and despite Briggs' protests, the blood trickling from below a significant cut below his left eye told the story.

But despite the loss, there is so much more to Briggs' story. There is an inner conflict waging a war deep inside the two-time champion's massive frame. Since turning pro in 1992, Briggs has had impressive wins (George Foreman, Sergui Lyakhovich) and uninspiring losses (Lennox Lewis, Darroll Wilson). He has cycled through trainers like gym socks and at times has appeared more interested in a career outside of the ring (he has a Screen Actors Guild card and is opening a dessert bar in south Florida) than in it. It's a conflict that stems from a bitter divorce trainer from Teddy Atlas in 1996 and his former co-manager, Marc Roberts, Briggs' once-close ally who took his management company public and made millions off Briggs' name. "You know what," says Briggs. "I didn't see one dollar of that."