How good is Naoya Inoue?

If you’ve paid attention to boxing in the last decade, you already know Inoue isn’t just a great fighter — he’s an all-time great. Easily top three in the sport today, alongside welterweight Terence Crawford and heavyweight Oleksandr Usyk, he is surely a Hall of Fame lock once he hangs up the gloves. But after his seventh-round TKO over TJ Doheny on Tuesday night in Japan, the question now is: just how good is he? And where does he rank across the weight classes for the boxing historians?

People love debating historical significance. So, let’s break down the lower weight classes Inoue has dominated. Yes, we’ll miss a few big names — it’s inevitable. But we’re here to figure out where Inoue belongs among the legends.

First, a look at Inoue’s career: In 2014, he won his first title at junior flyweight, knocking out Wittawas Basapean in the 11th round. Then, in his very next fight, he skipped flyweight entirely and obliterated junior bantamweight title holder Omar Narvaez in two rounds. That’s when the world realized this guy was special, as well as realized he skipped a chance at another title. 

Fast forward to 2018-2019, and Inoue was making elite competition look like sparring partners. He took out Jamie McDonnell in one round, knocked out Juan Carlos Payano in one round, and stopped Emmanuel Rodriguez in two. These weren’t nobodies — they were world champions, and Inoue dismantled them like they were a warm-up. McDonnell and Rodriguez were holding titles when he beat them.

And then, the classic: Inoue’s war with Nonito Donaire in 2019. Tested like never before, Inoue won by unanimous decision, then came back in 2021 and knocked Donaire out in their rematch. In 2022, he became the undisputed bantamweight champion, collecting all four belts. Then, just when you thought he’d done enough, he moves up to junior featherweight in 2023, outclasses the perceived best fighter in the division Stephen Fulton Jr., stopping him in eight rounds, and caps off the year by beating Marlon Tapales to become a two-division undisputed champ. Seriously — back-to-back undisputed titles in different divisions? That’s video-game stuff. So, where does he rank in history?

Let’s start at junior flyweight. Legends like Michael Carbajal and Humberto Gonzalez head the list, with deeper cuts like Hilario Zapata and Jung-Koo Chang for the hardcore boxing historians. Let’s face it: Inoue doesn’t fit here. He won a title and left the division immediately. Great, but not enough to place him with the legends.

Next up: flyweight and junior bantamweight. We’ll group them together to keep things simple. Look, you’re not going to compare Inoue to fighters from the early 1900s like Pancho Villa or Johnny Wilde. And sure, the modern flyweights have a bit of a resurgence thanks to guys like Roman “Chocolatito” Gonzalez and Juan Francisco Estrada, but Inoue didn’t stay long enough in either division. Eight fights at junior bantamweight, sure, but his legacy wasn’t built there.

Now, bantamweight is where the conversation shifts. We’re talking about guys like Eder Jofre, Ruben Olivares, Carlos Zarate — true icons. Inoue’s bantamweight run puts him in this category, no question. He didn’t just win — he dominated. His performances, his rise, the way he dismantled the top-tier competition, it all points to him being one of the best ever at 118 pounds.

Let’s move up to junior featherweight. This is the land of Wilfredo Gomez, Erik Morales, Marco Antonio Barrera, and Wilfredo Vazquez. Does Inoue belong here? Absolutely. He’s already in the conversation with those names. He’s probably a step behind Gomez, but he’s ahead of the likes of Kennedy McKinney. Inoue’s earned his seat at this table, but might not be the head of the table at junior featherweight. 

Let’s go further: how does Inoue stack up against the all-time greats who moved through weight classes?

Perhaps the real question is: how does Inoue stack up against the all-time greats who moved across multiple weight classes in the lower weights? Manny Pacquiao is in a league of his own. He started at flyweight and won belts all the way up to junior middleweight. Nobody touches Pacquiao. Right behind him? That’s where Inoue comes in, alongside Johnny Tapia and Nonito Donaire. 

Here’s the problem: Pacquiao casts a massive shadow over anyone trying to move up in weight. He wasn’t just a boxer — he was a global superstar. Inoue, for all his brilliance, hasn’t captured that same level of international fame. He fights in Japan, and while his knockouts blow up on social media, casual fans aren’t tuning in live to watch him fight (though it is pretty clear he doesn’t care, because Japan does). Pacquiao and Donaire had that real-time connection with the U.S. and British fans that Inoue is still missing.

So, where does Naoya Inoue rank among the all-time great weight-class movers? Pacquiao is the undisputed No. 1, no debate needed. Inoue? He’s likely sitting comfortably at No. 2, with Donaire at No. 3 and Tapia rounding out the group at No. 4. 

But how will Inoue’s career be remembered in the grand scheme? Let’s think of them in terms of music, shall we?

Pacquiao? He’s your David Bowie—a master of reinvention who constantly defied the odds and reshaped the landscape. Just like Bowie effortlessly shifted from rock to disco and beyond, Pacquiao moved from flyweight to welterweight, breaking all expectations along the way. Neither could be replicated, and both left an indelible mark on their craft, forever changing the game.

Inoue, on the other hand, is boxing’s Bob Dylan. He might not have the No. 1 hit record in terms of international fame, but his resume speaks for itself. Like Dylan, whose greatness was never in doubt despite his polarizing voice, Inoue’s brilliance is undeniable—if only people were willing to wake up at 4 AM PST to watch him fight. Just as Dylan’s fans appreciate his genius, Inoue’s fans know he’s an all-time great, even if mainstream audiences haven’t caught on.

And Donaire? That’s Prince—constantly evolving, always relevant. Both managed to have two hall-of-fame careers in one, reinventing themselves in ways that kept them at the top long after most thought they were done. 

Then there’s Tapia, the Kurt Cobain of this quartet—overflowing with talent but tragically limited by his own demons. 

So, the question isn’t just where Inoue ranks—it’s whether he’ll be remembered as the underground genius or transcend to the mainstream, much like the icons who came before him.

In boxing, losses tend to define legacies. Pacquiao’s knockout loss to Juan Manuel Marquez is a massive part of his story. Donaire will always be remembered for how he came back after tough defeats. Tapia? He was as famous for his out-of-the-ring wildness as his in-ring brilliance. Inoue hasn’t had that moment yet. He’s been too good, too dominant. So, the question is: what will be the defining moment of Naoya Inoue’s career?

We’re still waiting for that legendary night that sets him apart, but make no mistake: Inoue is carving out a shadow in the boxing world, one that stands alongside Pacquiao’s. It feels like we’re just starting to write the final chapter of a career that could go down as one of the greatest of all time.