The Beltline: Terence Crawford and the year that never was

WHEN recalling Terence Crawford’s ninth-round stoppage of Errol Spence in 2023 the first word that comes to mind is this: urgency. 

It was of course with great urgency that Crawford started his fight against Spence and it was then with even greater urgency that he compounded his rival’s misery when seeing him hurt, bewildered, unable to contend with either the speed or spite of Crawford’s attacks. 

It was also with no small amount of urgency that I left the T-Mobile Arena that night, leaving behind not only a scene of destruction but a slew of reporters rushing now towards this scene – to film stuff, to tweet stuff, to deliver their “deliverables” – rather than away from it.

Eschewing even the press conference, I just elected to get out of there, deeming escape necessary in order to breathe, collect my thoughts, and pinch myself. I ran towards the escalators, I ran out of the building, and I ran, as best I could in the stifling heat, back to my hotel, hearing for a time only the click-clicking of strip club flyers in the hands of old women, the cicadas of Vegas at night. 

Suddenly, too, it poured from me; sweat, words, and inspiration, something I had lacked for many months. In the presence of what can only be described as greatness, I found myself fuelled by what I had just watched and the only concern now was that the words I had for it, all no doubt knee-jerk and highfalutin, would go to waste or be disrupted by the words of others. 

Meanwhile, the consensus view in and around the T-Mobile Arena that night was that we had all got what we wanted: something decisive, something memorable. Even among the Spence fans, behind whom I had travelled down an escalator, there was a collective acceptance, both of the defeat and the rivalry’s finality. “I knew ‘Bud’ was good, but I didn’t know he was that good,” I can recall one of them saying. To which his friend, just as shellshocked, then replied: “Yeah. No point in a rematch, either. Same result, only quicker.”

By virtue of exiting the arena behind them, and seeing the backs of their Team Spence T-shirts, I was left in no doubt as to their allegiance, making these post-fight comments all the more telling. Similarly, when later walking over one of the several bridges one must traverse to get anywhere on the Strip, the sheer uncertainty of everyone else regarding Crawford’s next move told a story of its own. There was, among a group of men, mention of a boxer named “Boots”, only the introduction of this name was at the time followed by: “No chance. He’s not ready.” Or, if not that, this: “Nobody knows who he is.”

Then again, before beating Errol Spence few would have been all that familiar with Terence “Bud” Crawford outside the boxing world. In fact, many within the sport had long felt Crawford needed a rival like Spence and a fight like the one on July 29, 2023 to fully elevate him to the next level and tilt towards him the spotlight only the most self-absorbed and outspoken fighters tend to receive these days. That he then not only beat Spence in Las Vegas but demolished him had plenty believing Crawford had now cracked it and that, at the age of 35, his ascent would be both swift and steep, only big fights from here on out. 

For some, just beating Spence was enough; the skeleton key required. It certainly kept Crawford high on those silly pound-for-pound lists and it even managed to have us all forget that a few days prior we had watched Naoya Inoue, a fellow pound-for-pound contender, dissect Stephen Fulton with comparable malevolence in Tokyo, Japan. 

However, if, come Sunday, we had determined Crawford won the battle that week, it is fair to say Inoue ultimately won the war. Meaning: the Japanese star went on to impressively build on the Fulton win in a way Crawford did not in the aftermath of his own. Subsequent wins, for instance, against Marlon Tapales and Luis Nery were both legacy-building and exciting for Inoue and were also, by sheer coincidence, registered at a time when Crawford, increasingly rudderless, found himself linked with farfetched fights against the likes of Saul “Canelo” Alvarez. 

In other words, whereas Inoue had a clear, signposted path to greatness, Crawford, for all his brilliance against Spence, was struggling to find his. Surrounded only by dead ends, there was talk of him moving from welterweight to super-welterweight, middleweight, and even super-middleweight, but every time a fight involving Crawford was mooted nothing seemed to fit or make sense in the same way Crawford and Spence had fit and made sense for so many years. 

Perhaps, by beating Spence so decisively, it could be argued that Crawford had shot himself in the foot somewhat; that is, robbed himself of an opponent with whom he could in the long run stay busy and create a legacy. In the absence of this – call it rival, or map – Crawford was instead lost, resigned to spending the following 12 months digging around for other names and rivals, coming up short no matter where or in which direction he turned. 

As a result of this, a full year has passed since Crawford toyed with Spence in Las Vegas and it is only now, this Saturday (August 3), that we get the pleasure of watching him perform again. Suffice it to say, that, for a man who turns 37 next month, is far from ideal. 

It is also, when assessing the landscape and the lack of options, probably no fault of his, either. Ask Crawford, in fact, and he will say that this fight against Madrimov is a logical next step; the best of an uninspiring bunch. Not only that, the welterweight champion has even gone so far as to call this fight against Madrimov “bigger” than the Spence one, supposedly on account of its diverse appeal (Crawford has rather bizarrely referred to the Spence fight as a strictly “urban” affair). But that, of course, is merely pride, lip service. Moreover, it is a comment contradicted by the truculent Nebraskan’s sudden willingness to play his part in a cute double act with Madrimov’s promoter Eddie Hearn (even throwing darts for content, publicity), the idea of which would have seemed unthinkable – furthermore, unnecessary – when Crawford marched to the ring (and his own beat) against Spence this time last year. Back then, Crawford didn’t appear the type to suffer fools or flirt with thirsty admirers. Nor did Crawford, 40-0 (31), look as though he would require the considerable power of a certain man from the Middle East to get him back in the ring 12 months after scoring the standout win of 2023. 

And yet, here we are. Crawford is back, yes, just not in a fight anybody expected or, until it was announced, imagined in his future. It is not a bigger fight than Crawford vs. Spence, despite the move up in weight and its element of risk, and it is not a fight likely to move the needle – lots of tickets are still up for grabs, by all accounts – or even do much for Crawford’s overall legacy. Yet it is, for so many other reasons, a fight Terence Crawford now needs, as a matter of urgency.