Oleksandr Usyk—who recently arrived at the press conference for his rematch with Tyson Fury dressed as Agent 47 from the film Hitman, then convinced Fury to sign a photo in which Usyk had clocked him in the head—is on top of the world. He’s the lineal heavyweight champion and was undisputed before the IBF IBF-ed their title away from him. He is the most popular choice for pound-for-pound number one. I would even wager that as things stand today, he has the best resume of any active boxer alive. Following his brilliant, narrow split-decision win over Fury in May, at 37 years old, Usyk launched himself into boxing history, reaping the rewards for his years of toil.
Usyk needed some help to reach the summit of the sport, though. Not from judges, who have awarded him narrow decisions, but never unpopular ones. Not from opponents in the ring, who almost always fight him tough. Perhaps from referee Luis Pabon in the Daniel Dubois fight.
But I’m primarily thinking of an opponent’s actions outside the ring. Namely, a much bigger star than Usyk, who he nonetheless beat twice: Anthony Joshua.
It’s easy to forget, following his recent pummeling at the hands of Dubois, that AJ was once the axis around which the heavyweight division revolved. In 2021, he was the WBO, IBF, and IBO champ. He had adjusted his style to avenge his loss to Andy Ruiz, he was being primed for a gigantic fight against Fury that would surely make the both men richer than Britain itself, and alongside Canelo Alvarez, he commanded more attention than any other boxer.
Joshua, in 2021, had little reason to fight his WBO mandatory in Usyk, who had been campaigning at cruiserweight three short years earlier. Usyk was clearly a nightmare opponent, even if skeptics that he could match the best big men in the world were still aplenty. It didn’t take a genius to know that Usyk’s quickness and superior skillset could prove Joshua’s undoing. And Usyk did not have enough fame to power intense public demand for the fight, or a payday that would justify the risk to everybody.
Joshua could have ducked Usyk. Few but hardcore boxing fans would have faulted him for it. His WBO title meant nothing to the gargantuan bottom line a Fury bout would produce. As the money man, Joshua could have forced Usyk to fight a second-tier contender, while he himself kept busy with whoever he wanted.
But Joshua has rarely shied from a challenge and took on the smaller, craftier man. He lost twice, elevating Usyk’s heavyweight resume and legacy in the process to the point that everybody wanted to see him fight Fury for the undisputed crown. Usyk himself has shown gratitude to Joshua for this, so much so that before AJ fell beneath Dubois’s thundering fists, Usyk was willing to fight him a third time, despite neither of their first two bouts being controversial.
What if Joshua had indeed avoided Usyk? AJ and Fury might have gone on to have a trilogy, while Usyk waited in the wings, spending the final few years of his prime beating lesser opponents. By the time he got his shot at one of the two British big men, Usyk might have been something of a spent force. Even if he managed to win a heavyweight title in this alternate universe, he may not have had enough prime years left to collect them all. He would fall short of his undisputed dream at heavyweight not because of his skills, but because he was not given the chance by others.
Luckily for Usyk, and boxing fans, Joshua stepped right to him. But not every great fighter is so lucky. Marvin Hagler didn’t get the marquee fights he craved until the tail end of his career, and having noticeably lost a step, suffered defeat in the biggest of them all against “Sugar” Ray Leonard. Gennadiy Golovkin had to wait a year and a half for Canelo to fight him, at which point he too had begun to decline. David Benavidez jumped to light heavyweight when Canelo wouldn’t fight him. And Jaron “Boots” Ennis, now 27 years old, is being cornered into a rematch with a fighter he shut out nearly two years ago in part because he can’t get a fight with a big name.
It seems clear that boxers need to fight stars to reach that point themselves. Chavez-De La Hoya, De La Hoya-Mayweather, Mayweather-Canelo, the glimmer of fame passes through generations like the lines in a family tree.
This system is wonderful for the superstars. But when big names aren’t so willing to play ball with their top contenders, fighters who had the skill to become all-time-greats are sometimes forced to watch their careers wither. Just imagine if Errol Spence never fought Terence Crawford—boxing would never know quite how good Crawford was. He’d have had to listen to endless arguments that his resume was thin, that he’d never proven his mettle against the best, all the while knowing that none of it was his fault. (Crawford, of course, is electing not to fight Ennis, which would solve the same dilemma for the younger man.)
Boxing might benefit financially from its star economy, but the quality of the product suffers. Star power does not equate to superior skill all the time, so the best fighters are sometimes still regarded as less important than the most famous. Not only that, but there is no set formula to become a star. Sometimes the characteristics that make a star are laughably fickle, like someone’s looks or their hair color, and sometimes only a unique blend of qualities is enough. And boxers trying to pursue elusive, undefinable traits because simply being great at boxing isn’t enough to endear them to the public is a futile strategy.
Take Mayweather, for example, whose blueprint several active fighters are clearly trying to emulate. In the latter half of his career, he exploded into superstardom precisely because he did not give the public what they wanted. His behavior outside the ring was abominable. His fights were not always entertaining—he rarely fought who people wanted him to and he would not pursue knockouts even when he had his opponents figured out. People wanted him to go for the KO, to risk getting KO’d, to lose. He never did, so fans…bought his fights in gargantuan numbers.
Doesn’t make much sense, does it? Mayweather also happened to be the best fighter in the world when he was the biggest star, but that’s rarely the case for pound-for-pound kings. Usyk is not the biggest star right now. Nor was Crawford when he annihilated Spence last year. Naoya Inoue is closer, possessing a blend of such potent skill and fan-friendliness that even casual boxing fans can’t resist him. But currently it’s Canelo and Gervonta “Tank” Davis who probably command the most attention from the boxing world, and neither of them have been remotely as impressive as the aforementioned trio lately.
All sports have their stars who make more than everybody else, but in most of them, the game itself operates free of bias. In tennis, the world No. 12 might make more than the No. 5 off the court, but if they meet in a tournament, they still have to play each other, and the No. 5 will probably be favored to win. Team sports have set schedules. Even MMA—which has problems of its own, to be clear, including fighter pay—makes it difficult for a fighter to duck their primary challengers. Boxing’s structure is comparatively comical, and this is all before getting into the A-side bias that seems to pervade numerous championship fights.
Lately, the best really have been fighting the best. Davis has lent his star power to Benavidez for a night (and might do so again), and Jesse “Bam” Rodriguez and Ennis will tag-team the headline of a card in November. One or two of Benavidez, Rodriguez, and Ennis might ascend to stardom. Despite each clearly being a Hall of Fame talent, it’s unlikely they’ll all wind up as successful as Usyk, or all find an opponent to give them the stardom bump that Usyk got from Joshua. Benavidez and Ennis have already been denied that once.
That’s boxing for you—a sport in which you can’t fully control your own destiny even if you never lose.
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