I swore I’d never do it, but here I am.

Maybe I’d think it, maybe I’d talk about it in private conversations, but I said I would never publicly write that a fighter should retire.

Think about it. Someone spends their entire life doing something they love, that isn’t just a job but a part of their being, and some guy behind a keyboard tells him to walk away. Many of those who write those words never did a sit-up in their life or stepped between those ropes.

As the great Michael Katz once told me, “You don’t need to be a criminal to cover crime.” True, but I do think taking a punch or two gives you a little more perspective when it comes to those who do. Yet, I always thought that no one, ex-fighter or not, should be passing judgement on someone who uses this often brutal sport to put food on the table for their family.

That’s not our call. That’s up to the fighter, but fighters rarely admit when it’s time to hang up the gloves. Notice I didn’t use the word “know,” because they all know when too much is enough. Admitting it is the hard part. That’s why so many keep making that walk, determined to prove that a few bad nights were just that – blips on the radar of an otherwise successful career. “All I need is one more,” they’ll say, and people will assume that means one more payday, when really it means one more chance to prove that they’re still who they were when everything was clicking, when every punch hit its mark and every incoming blow didn’t make a dent in their chin. On those nights, a fighter could fight forever against anyone who ever laced up the gloves and feel like they could win.

It's nice to feel invincible. It’s horrible when you don’t. 

Adam Kownacki, a young man in real life at 34, and even fairly young for a heavyweight boxer, wasn’t the same fighter he used to be at Madison Square Garden’s Theater last Saturday night. For nearly eight full rounds, he took more than he gave against Joe Cusumano, a decent slugger, but someone Kownacki likely would have beaten a few years ago.

That’s the fight game. Eventually, someone has your number, and someone should make you consider whether all of this is worth it. Some would say it was Robert Helenius who had Kownacki’s number, as he removed him from the ranks of the unbeaten with a pair of stoppage wins in 2020 and 2021. There were no excuses from the Poland native for the defeat, but there were reasons, as he became a father twice and also fought the rematch in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic. 

So one – or two – losses are never enough to pivot into civilian life, not for someone determined to become a world champion and who won his first 20 pro fights. So Kownacki regrouped, likely said to himself that Helenius was just “that guy” for him, and returned in July of last year in his adopted hometown of Brooklyn, only to lose a third straight fight, this time to Ali Eren Demirezen. 

Another regrouping, another thought that a move to Florida and a new trainer in Sugar Hill Steward would eliminate this cold streak once and for all. 

It didn’t happen. Kownacki was dropped in the first round and never truly got on track. Sure, he took every shot coming his way, slugged back and never gave in. But as the punches accumulated, it was clear that Kownacki wasn’t going to win this fight. No one told him, as he kept trying to find a way to leave the ring with his 21st pro victory, but Cusumano kept throwing and landing and, finally, a towel waved from outside the ropes found its way into the ring.

The fight was over. And that should be the same outcome for Adam Kownacki’s pro boxing career.

I said I wouldn’t write something like that, especially not in a public space, but it’s time that everyone starts looking out for the health and safety of those who compete for our entertainment. Thankfully, Kownacki has a good team and a family around him that may say the same things to him. And maybe a state athletic commission will think twice about licensing him for a return fight and matchmakers will say, “Enough.”

Those things aren’t always a given in this sport because if there is money to be made, those on the business end will try to make it. And Kownacki is a heavyweight, which means there’s always money to be made. Hey, a rematch with Cusumano would be action-packed. Hey, we’ve got a hot prospect, put him in with Kownacki, who still has a name. The possibilities are endless. Get him a couple fights with a couple folks he can beat to get his confidence up, then throw him into the deep end of the pool again.

This is boxing. 

But when it gets to the point where Kownacki can’t physically pass the tests to return to the ring or can’t get licensed for whatever reason, the sport moves on. There’s always someone else. Then it’s Kownacki and his wife and two kids left to fend for themselves after a career spent in a sport with no pension and no plan to help ex-fighters.

Here’s where Kownacki flips the script. Here’s where he walks away at 34, with his health and bank account intact and starts the next chapter of his life. He’s always been a smart fighter, always interested in the business end of things, and someone who can have a second act in life, even if it’s not with thousands cheering for him.

That’s the tough part. When I first took notice of Kownacki, it was in May of 2015. I was writing up my main event piece on the Amir Khan-Chris Algieri fight when Kownacki entered the ring for a walkout bout against Ytalo Perea. Barclays Center was nearly empty except for a large group of fans with red shirts that read “Baby Face.”

They were there for Kownacki, and were as loud as the packed house was a few minutes earlier as their guy scored a near shutout victory to move to 10-0 as a pro. In a town known for supporting their own in the past, this was a throwback to a different time in New York City.

Was Kownacki the next Mike Tyson? No, but his fans treated him like he was, showing up every time he fought, red shirts and all, to cheer and support him.

It was the start of something special, something Kownacki never thought he’d experience when injuries sidelined him for nearly three years from 2010 to 2013. But as he questioned his future, his new city brought him back.

“I used to be walking around the neighborhood and people would go ‘Yo, when are you fighting again, when’s the next fight? Come on, get into shape. We’re waiting for you to come back,’” he told me in 2016. “That really motivated me and kept me driving. It’s a real pleasure to show these people that I’m able to do something for them, that a kid from Greenpoint can make something of himself.”

He did.

Kownacki kept winning, kept selling tickets, and a five-fight run in which he defeated Artur Szpilka, Iago Kiladze, Charles Martin, Gerald Washington and Chris Arreola made him a heavyweight contender. That’s more than most can say, and more than many forecast for him when he was fighting on the local scene. In other words, he did good. More importantly, he was always a class act and a gentleman, always accessible, and a credit to the sport. Did he make it to the top of the mountain and get that world title? No, but few do. What does matter is that he showed up to fight every night, win, lose or draw, and he left something his boys can look at one day and be proud of.

But now it’s time for him to enjoy being a dad, take in that Miami weather, and leave the fighting to somebody else. Yeah, I said I’d never write these words to any fighter, but I have no regrets writing them now.