Scoring aside, there was little question as to who won this fight. The question is what happens next. Atlas joked that he wasn't so sure he would sign up for another tour, and Moorer didn't know how much more boxing he wanted to do. Moorer is smart enough to know that the huge commerce of boxing will sweep them both toward other fights, but he is not especially driven by the prospect of additional titles or money.
"I just want to be happy," he says. What that means for him is uncertain. Maybe a house that costs $400,000 or, at the outside, $800,000. He's not sure. Maybe he would like to become a policeman like all his friends. He thinks he would. Maybe all it means is talking to his son. One day in Palm Springs, sitting in a room with the curtains drawn, he seemed entirely forlorn as he waited for his fight. He was talking about his phone calls to his little boy, "my main man." Even if his main man was just 20 months old, he said, the conversations were surprisingly full: "He can count to 10, say his ABCs; he can say lots of stuff." There was no end to their discussions, it seemed. "He can even say, 'Daddy, I love you.' "