Deep and vast as it is, even the internet lacks the capacity to contain all of boxing’s problems. Attempting to litanize them here is a Sysyphean task that, quite frankly, isn’t worth being crushed by the rolling mass of territorial promoters and three-letter leeches. Besides, you’re a boxing fan. No reason to hold your hand on a walk through that little hellscape yet again.
But as bleak as the outlook is, and has been for many years, boxing still has a heartbeat. Faint and a bit fluttery after so many Modelo-soaked pay-per-viewings, sure. Yet the patient has a pulse. We kid – often – about the frightful state of the sport because tearful swooning and angry blood oaths have gotten us nowhere. All that’s left is gallows humor and our precious memes.
What if, however, solutions existed? What if, heaven forbid, boxing had not only solutions but the resources, wherewithal and, dare we say, influence to execute on those solutions? We’re talking about a savior.
We’re talking about Jake Paul.
Now, when you’re done throwing wet garbage in this direction, pull up a chair and read a bit further. Because you might be surprised at what Paul – who is scheduled to fight former heavyweight champ Mike Tyson on Friday at AT&T Stadium in Dallas (8 p.m. ET, Netflix) – has already accomplished. You’ll almost certainly feel sheepish, but oddly encouraged, when you put all the pieces together and discover that no one is so uniquely positioned to lead boxing out of the darkness and on a path toward respectability, fair play and profit than the YouTuber everyone loves to hate.
If that kind of cult of personality flirts too closely with a certain unscrupulous psychopath who has imparted a vice grip on another popular combat sport, or even sounds like the promises of another megalomaniac business doofus now at the controls of a much larger operation, keep this in mind: Jake Paul has yet to claim of boxing, “I alone can fix it.” False humility isn’t one of his obvious traits, so the fact that he hasn’t claimed to be the sport’s savior – at least not outside the regional-wrestling-promo-style setting of a pre-fight press conference – can be taken as a good sign. Hell, it’s not even clear he would want the job.
But consider for a moment how far Paul has come already, his current standing in the sport and the blurry, shimmering vision of a future in which he and his associates consolidate boxing’s scattered fiefdoms into a singular streamlined entity. It doesn’t have to be a mirage.
Barely more than 10 years ago, Paul was a mop-topped teenager in Westlake, Ohio, dicking around on his phone, recording Vines. (Yeah, remember those?) Before you could blink, he had amassed a following, created a YouTube channel, was hired as a Disney Channel actor, embarked on a music career, founded a media business and launched a venture capital firm. That can’t all be chalked up to luck and happenstance.
Most of these developments occurred roughly in step with Paul’s foray into boxing. His entrepreneurial and marketing instincts were honed as he was knocking out fellow YouTubers, former NBA players and calcified ex-MMA fighters. Old-school purists lament what whippersnapper interlopers are doing to the sport (which, by the way, has been guilty of decades-long self-immolation with no help whatsoever from the influencer set). But even the surliest barbershop crank must admit: Paul is attuned to the rhythms of a young mainstream audience in a way that Bob Arum, Don King and other boxing lifers can’t possibly fathom.
Moreover, Paul already has proven himself to be a brilliant marketer, one with the influence, resources and savvy to cozy up to and convince the right partners – whether it’s entrepreneur Geoffrey Woo or the world’s biggest streaming platform – to do business with him. He founded Most Valuable Promotions in 2021 with Nakisa Bidarian, a former UFC executive and wingman to Frank and Lorenzo Fertitta, who turned their initial $2 million investment in the promotion into an enterprise they eventually sold for $4 billion. With Bidarian in his corner, Paul has quickly grown a boxing empire built on the promise of empowering fighters with more creative control and, more quietly, leading with philanthropy, advocacy and equity.
Because this is boxing, and because we’ve heard such promises spoken by forked tongues and through both sides of the fanged mouths of power brokers, it’s impossible not to be cynical. But Paul has already thrown action behind words: Among other moves, he established the anti-bullying non-profit “Boxing Bullies,” assumed the role of head of fighter advocacy for the Professional Fighters League and played no small part in the rise of MVP fighter Amanda Serrano and the making of her historic 2022 bout with Katie Taylor (which the fighters will run back in the co-main to Paul’s headliner with Tyson).
So Paul’s business acumen, promotional chops and intentions for the sport appear to be on point. The deal with Netflix – which will air Friday’s fight for free to subscribers, all but ensuring that it will be history’s most-watched boxing match by far – should be proof alone that Paul is a force not to be underestimated. With a reported net worth in the neighborhood of $80 million, he can increase that figure by half, according to some estimations, by going a few rounds with the artist formerly known as The Baddest Man on the Planet. Realistically, Paul could continue down his current path for a few more years and, with the right investment and some luck, be knocking on the door of billionaire status. Is that sufficient seed capital for a boxing takeover?
Arum won’t be around forever. Oscar De La Hoya seems as unstable as a three-legged rocking horse. Turki Alalshikh will eventually take his oil money and ill intentions elsewhere. At some point in the near future, Paul may very well have the power, the small fortune and the opening to make a series of bold moves and enact the sort of sweeping and direly necessary changes that have for so long eluded boxing. At the very least, he can lead by example on a larger scale, helping to drive incremental progress that will benefit fighters, fans and anyone who still has a soft spot for the sweet science.
Maybe boxing doesn’t need a savior. But it could use more Jake Paul.
Jason Langendorf is the former Boxing Editor of ESPN.com, has contributed to Ringside Seat and the Queensberry Rules, and has written about boxing for Vice, The Guardian, Chicago Sun-Times and other publications. A member of the Boxing Writers Association of America, he can be followed on X and LinkedIn, and emailed at [email protected].
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