The Beltline: Is Artur Beterbiev arrogant for not joining in on the fun?

It wasn’t that long ago that Chris Eubank Jnr was admonished and forced to apologise for spoiling the fun of Riyadh Season by saying too much in public.

Now, just two weeks later, Artur Beterbiev, the light-heavyweight appearing in Saturday’s main event, is facing criticism for spoiling the fun of Riyadh Season in a different way. He, unlike Eubank Jnr, has become an apparent disruptor by virtue of his silence and stubborn reluctance to offer any more of himself than he deems necessary. 

This, as a personal choice, has perplexed some, those tasked with interviewing him, and disappointed others. The ones it has disappointed tend to be those who have a financial interest in the success of Saturday’s event and it is therefore obvious why they would prefer Beterbiev – and indeed Dmitry Bivol, his opponent – to say more at press conferences and express himself when given the opportunity to do so. 

Beterbiev, though, remains unapologetically truculent. A master of the thousand-yard stare and the one-word answer, he gives more away in the ring than he does in interviews and even in the ring tends to be notoriously frugal.  

“At the first presser, Beterbiev said about three words,” moaned Eddie Hearn, one of the many promoters attached to Saturday’s event, in an interview with DAZN. “I actually found it quite arrogant because you’re flying him over, and his team, and you’ve got either you [Dev Sahni] or Ade [Oladipo] asking him the questions, and he just went, ‘Good’. It’s like, hang on a minute, you’re getting paid an absolute fortune, you’ve got the entire world media here, you owe us a little bit more than that. He couldn’t care less. 

“In a way, I respect it; but in a way, I think it’s a little bit disrespectful. I’m not expecting him to come and start rolling around with Bivol, but you are a monster, you’ve got your role to play in this fight. You’re receiving a huge amount of money, let’s play the game a little bit. 

“But when you actually get into Beterbiev and break him down in the interviews, he is actually quite funny. He’s got this very cold, dry sense of humour that actually does come out. He should show that a little bit more.”

Within those comments from Hearn are various interesting points to explore, not least of all the idea that Beterbiev owes the paymaster something for giving him so much money. That, on the face of it, seems a fair thing to suggest, yet Beterbiev is certainly not the first fighter to offer only as much of himself as is required and he won’t be the last, either. 

Moreover, because of the nature of these Riyadh Season events, and the extortionate amounts of money being dished out to those involved, there is no incentive for Beterbiev to sell this fight the way he might have done back when the promotional model was, shall we say, a little more transparent and conventional. Here, with his money effectively guaranteed, and ticket sales irrelevant, all Beterbiev must do is focus on not getting injured and turn up. Whether he chooses to say one word or deliver at the dais a Chekhovian monologue has no bearing on the money he stands to make from fighting Bivol on Saturday. 

“You talk a lot,” he told Eddie Hearn at Thursday’s press conference. 

“That’s my job,” replied Hearn. “You should try it.”

Yet if that’s Hearn’s job (his primary job while in Saudi Arabia), why should it also be Beterbiev’s? Beterbiev, after all, is a fighter now in the throes of cutting weight and preparing for the toughest fight of his life. Is that no longer enough in terms of a boxer’s contribution? 

Perhaps, so accustomed are promoters to having fighters dance to their tune and do whatever they say, all for the greater good, it strikes them as unusual to encounter a fighter whose interest stretches only as far as what happens on fight night. Perhaps, to them, it seems like the fighter, by ignoring so-called promotional duties, is doing only half of their job. 

Then again, one could argue that the promoters who partake in Riyadh Season are also guilty of doing only what is required of them: turn up, talk, smile for the camera, pose as if fighting. It is certainly a different job specification when in cahoots with Turki Alalshikh and Riyadh Season than it would be if promoting shows of their own funded by their own money. The risks are mitigated when in Riyadh and therefore the work is naturally halved. They can, in other words, afford to dress up and have a bit of fun. 

Beterbiev, like them, is in the end doing only what is needed. That doesn’t mean it isn’t maddening to have to interview him and receive nothing back, but this, as an experience, is symptomatic of the strange world in which boxing increasingly finds itself. Besides, there is every possibility that Beterbiev is simply out of practice these days. Maybe he has forgotten what it means to attend a press conference and deliver anything other than all-purpose platitudes and thank-yous to the people writing out his cheque. 

The interviews will often go the same way. In those, he is not being asked questions designed to open him up, for those days are long gone. He is instead being probed for soundbites and for clips that can be posted online with the aim of gaining traction or, better yet, going viral. 

For someone like Beterbiev, a 39-year-old man from Russia, it is hard to think of too many things less appealing than having to engage in this world of superficiality and nonsense. Whereas some people enjoying Riyadh Season have no choice but to partake in this world and its rituals, Beterbiev, as a man of power, has options. He has left and right fists. He has 20 knockouts from 20 fights. He does not need to sell himself out, nor sell himself as anything other than what he is: the scariest fighter on the planet.