The Beltline: Are Canelo Alvarez, Tim Tszyu and Carl Froch the only men in boxing whose hands cannot be held?

Hands are important in boxing. Curled into fists, then toughened in the gym, they are protected by hand wraps and gloves before being used on fight night to cause grievous bodily harm. They do damage. They settle disputes. They decide things. They also carry power pre-fight, when two hands shake on a deal, and post-fight, when two hands shake to demonstrate there are no hard feelings.

More recently, hands have been used in boxing to signify something else. Now, as well as shaken and thrown, hands are being held. They are being held for photo opportunities and they are being held whenever two powerful men waltz into an arena on fight night and wish to show the strength of their alliance to the watching world.

Key to this, and chief hand-holder, is the all-powerful and all-pervasive Turki Alalshikh. It is he who initiates the holding of hands, typically with promoters, and it is he whose hands hold not only the hands of other men but also the key to the sport’s immediate future. It is, in fact, for this reason promoters are content to hold his hand and do exactly as they are told. It is for this reason, too, that so many boxers are eager to work with Alalshikh and let him guide them in a way that was once both the job and privilege of a promoter.

For these fighters, you cannot be in better hands in 2024. In Alalshikh’s hands they find not only the money but their own promoter located in the very palm, dead center. They know therefore that it makes sense, financially speaking, to do as Alalshikh says and fight the opponents he would rather they fight.

Dissenters, of which there are few, run the risk of isolating themselves and becoming outcasts. Tim Tszyu, for example, was recently given the Alalshikh cold shoulder, on camera no less, presumably for not agreeing to hold hands and instead wanting to maintain some autonomy in his career.

Similarly, Saul “Canelo” Alvarez, perhaps the only man in boxing whose power can rival Alalshikh’s, has felt the wrath of “His Excellency” for playing hard ball with Terence Crawford, Alalshikh’s favorite new toy. That was the wrong answer, it turned out, and now Alvarez has made himself an enemy and in so doing revealed a side of Alalshikh previously concealed from the public. More outspoken now, and more bullish, Alalshikh clearly doesn’t like being told “no” and was, before hearing it said, firmly of the belief that his crusade in boxing would go unopposed.

He had good reason to believe this, too, particularly given the speed with which various promoters let bygones be bygones and agreed to hold hands in one giant circle. Also, there can be no denying that Alalshikh’s influence in boxing, which is both considerable and growing, has led to several excellent fights getting made, not one of which would have come to fruition without both his passion and financial muscle. For that, Alalshikh has rightly won plaudits, as well as the respect and commitment of those within the sport content to have an easy ride and allow him to fund their little adventures. It certainly reduces the risk, this approach. It also permits promoters to become promoters of self rather than of fighters, which, for some, has been the dream all along.

For someone like Alvarez, however, there is at least a choice in the matter. The Mexican, after all, currently possesses a power and autonomy these other men lack and can continue making ungodly amounts of money in Las Vegas without feeling the hand of Alalshikh in his. True, he could make even more money with the Alalshikh touch, but what is the price one is willing to pay for sacrificing one’s principles? In other words, is Canelo happy to make a little more money in exchange for the relinquishing of power? No. Probably not.

Elsewhere, when looking at the media landscape, maybe Carl Froch, a retired fighter with a podcast he hosts with his wife, is the only man whose hands can escape the clutches of Alalshikh. Many others have already been held – journalists, pundits, retired boxers – and it is plain to see why. If covering the sport, Saudi Arabia is the place to be, the hub where the big fights happen, and Alalshikh holds the key to the castle. Without him, you are liable to miss out on all the fun. Without him, you may struggle to cover what needs to be covered.

Froch, while a confident man, won’t have the temerity to call himself a journalist, yet, in many respects, he is the closest thing to a journalist you will find in boxing these days. At the very least he is honest, often brutally, and he is unafraid; unafraid to voice his opinion, unafraid to go against the grain, unafraid to be blacklisted. Agree with him or not, it is refreshing to hear someone say something without fear of retribution or losing work, especially when this fear is what drives so many.

If wondering why Froch seems braver than the rest, think back to the final punch he threw in his professional career. Think back to the damage he did with his right hand, that night gloved, the moment it connected on the chin of George Groves in front of 80,000 fans at Wembley Stadium. The punch itself was powerful enough – enough to settle a feud – but even more powerful than the punch was Froch’s decision after the fight to retire, meaning that punch was also destined to be his last.

In choosing to leave when he did, Froch ensured he escaped on a high, on a win, and therefore skipped the tragic note on which others tend to finish. He left with not only his faculties intact but bragging rights, both in the context of the Groves rivalry and in a wider context, too. After all, having now finished his career in style, ticked every box, and invested his money wisely in property, he could not be bought in retirement. He was, in a sense, the master of his own destiny; or the master, full stop. He didn’t need boxing in retirement. He never would. He had what they call Fuck You Money; that is, the right amount of money needed to live the kind of life you want to live, without selling your soul to The Man and doing stuff you would rather not do.

It is perhaps only Andre Ward, the one man Froch failed to beat as a pro, who today has the power to take Froch’s hand and, if so inclined, remind him of his place. No other man, whether Turki Alalshikh or Eddie Hearn, has that kind of hold on him. His hands, neither held nor tied, are, in boxing terms, as clean as they get, used only to wave.