At 48, Hopkins still thrives in the ring

The black speed bag was still rattling from Bernard Hopkins' punches when the boxer stepped back and took a glimpse around the gym.

Look at the banners, Hopkins said, pointing to the walls of Joe Hand Gym in Northern Liberties.

Gypsy Joe Harris. George Benton. Bob Montgomery. Howard Johnson. Legends of Philadelphia's boxing past emblazoned in 6-foot-tall, black-and-white photographs.

"This is what I represent," said the 48-year-old Hopkins. "I'm just of the new world with an old soul. I represent the old soul of doing it the right way, living the right way and thinking the right way."

The International Boxing Federation's light-heavyweight champion is the sport's oldest-ever champion and on Saturday night Hopkins will become the oldest to successfully defend a title if he turns back upset-minded 30-year-old Karo Murat in Atlantic City.

Hopkins was born in 1965 and did not turn professional until 1988 after spending 31/2 years as inmate Y4145 at Graterford Prison. The warden told him he'd see him again soon, but the Germantown native had other plans.

He fought no amateur fights and lost his first professional bout, which came just seven years after Joe Frazier hung up his gloves. Hopkins took more than a year off, honed his craft and fought for his first world title just five years after walking out of Graterford.

A photograph of his prison identification card is the lock screen on his iPhone, a reminder of his troubled past. Hopkins does not smoke or drink. He is a father of two with his wife, Jeanette, and a self-taught high-school dropout. At Wednesday's news conference in New York, Hopkins advised young boxers on the stage to read The Art of War by the sixth-century B.C. Chinese general Sun Tzu.

As his career rambles on, Hopkins has begun to mentor the future of the Philadelphia fight scene. One of his chief pupils, North Philadelphia's Gabriel Rosado, fights WBO middleweight champion Peter Quillin on Saturday's undercard.

"Never did I think I'd have the opportunity to fight on the same card as Bernard," Rosado said. "I thought by the time I had the opportunity he'd be gone. But he's still here kicking [butt]."

Everywhere he goes, Hopkins said, he is asked what his secret is. He used to tell people about his clean lifestyle, about shopping at farmer's markets, Whole Foods and Trader Joe's.

The questions got old.

His answer now? "I'm an alien," said Hopkins, who has been seen wearing bug-eyed monster masks at different times leading up to the fight, and will wear one when he walks into the ring on Saturday night. "Name me any other contact-sport athlete [my age] that is doing this on this level."

Hopkins earned $750,000 in March to fight then-champion Tavoris Cloud and should earn a bit more for Saturday's fight.

His days of huge purses are likely over - Hopkins earned $10 million for a 2004 superfight with Oscar De La Hoya - but the champion still draws a crowd. Golden Boy Promotions CEO Richard Schaefer said tickets, which start at $25, are selling nicely for Saturday's fight.

Most of Hopkins' opponents are a generation younger, looking for an easy fight against an old man. Saturday will be his sixth consecutive fight against a fighter born in the 1980s. Murat, who was 5 years old when Hopkins made his ring debut, said it a "sign from God" that he is here to end Hopkins' career.

"He is an old man and he needs to be stopped now," the German fighter said.

But how does a fighter prepare to beat Hopkins? Should he try to outbox the champion? Outwit him? Out-counterpunch him? Hopkins discounted each approach.

"You might be better than me in certain areas, but you're coming with one bullet and I'm coming with a fully loaded gun," he said.

On Monday afternoon, just two days after his fight, Hopkins will likely head to the Joe Hand Gym to train. It will be a light workout, just enough to keep his mind fresh. He plans to fight until he's 50 and his longevity is steeped in structured dedication.

The banners of past champions will keep a close eye as Hopkins dances around the ring. And if the champ ever decides to walk away, there's a place on the wall waiting.