The here-and-now nearly always comes off second best when boxing fans start comparing it with eras gone by. Everyone does it, in fact, about almost everything. Whether sport, literature, music, films, television, clothes, relationships, or the circumference of our stomachs, yesterday trumps today.
Or maybe, and more likely, we presume the past to be superior because, back then, we were young, carefree, and full of hope. We were not worn out with responsibilities, endless bills, or even by walking to the kitchen from the living room. Moreover, the human condition and the way the mind works, as it darts from what’s already happened to what might happen, so that the present barely exists, makes it almost impossible to truly appreciate things in the moment.
It follows, then, that those lucky devils who are young today will likely one day look back and declare it a halcyon age. Human beings have been too reliant on their rose-tinted specs since the dawn of time – yet it shouldn’t take a historian to tell you that the world we live in today is markedly better than the one our 20th century counterparts inhabited 100 years ago. Go back to almost any period in history and the same is true. Even if you only use the metric of a decade, the haste in progress is startling. Technology-wise, health-wise, travel-wise, nutrition-wise.
So why is it so hard to admit that the standard of boxing – skills, fitness, power, etcetera – is progressing at contextual pace, too? If we’re to accept that humans can run faster, jump higher, lift heavier weights, and throw things further, why does it not automatically follow that fighters can fight better?
One obvious problem is the absence of quantifiable facts in boxing. We recognize that Usain Bolt is the fastest person to have run 100 meters because we know exactly how long it took him to run it. And though some may prefer Jesse Owens’ technique over Bolt’s, and Owens’ legacy in modern history is certainly greater, a race between the pair would be a no contest. Similar conclusions can be drawn from any track and field event, and to a lesser degree, other sports. In tennis, for example, we know the players are hitting ball harder and faster; in soccer we know they’re covering more distance in a game and the ball is finding the target, whether that be shots at goal or passes to teammates, with greater accuracy; in snooker we know the break-building is more consistent and of higher number.
Boxing, for all its primal simplicity, is somewhat harder to assess. And as the judging system has always shown, with myriad scoring controversies, it’s the most subjective of all sports to read.
Valid arguments can indeed be made that they simply don’t make them like they used to. We can look at heavyweights today, all muscles and long limbs, and label their grasp of the fundamentals rudimentary when compared to someone with the fluid, born-to-do-it skillsets of Ezzard Charles or Jersey Joe Walcott. Yet just because Charles and Walcott succeeded in their own era doesn’t guarantee they would flourish now. After all, plenty of boxers come along in the present day, who can fight beautifully, yet don’t quite cut it against certain opponents for various reasons. Furthermore, and an important factor to consider, neither Charles nor Walcott were hugely idolized in their own time. Even Muhammad Ali, in the immediate aftermath of winning the world heavyweight title for a record-setting third time against Leon Spinks, was not universally deemed The Greatest. True appreciation can take many years – which is why active fighters rarely fare well when compared to their predecessors.
Boxers fought more regularly in the past and, consequently, they had little choice but to fight better opposition more consistently – therefore their resumes are presumed superior but, again, when it comes to saying they were better, it is simply unprovable. For all we know, and whether the historians like it or not, Martin Bakole might well have torn through Charles and Walcott with unerring ease. And before you roll your eyes and laugh at the idiocy of the statement, show me hard evidence that he couldn’t (reeling off the finest moments of Walcott and Charles from the Forties and Fifties doesn’t count, by the way).
Are we really to believe that Oleksandr Usyk wouldn’t have been able to hang with Joe Louis or the sheer brute force of 1970’s George Foreman would walk through Tyson Fury? Don’t expect me to get into either debate here, however. Simply because there is no way to know.
Which is perhaps why we should look at different factors when deciding the value of an era. And if we’re to look at the current heavyweight generation, which for argument’s sake began when Fury dethroned Wladimir Klitschko at the end of 2015, one can easily unveil numerous reasons why it might one day be viewed favorably against almost any other in history.
What it was always missing – and likely why it will never quite topple the immortal Seventies from its throne as the greatest period of all time – was the best fighting the best regularly. It simply took too long for the universally recognized one and two to come together. But at least they eventually did, in May this year, when Usyk and Fury engaged in a wildly exciting 12-rounder which is set for an eagerly anticipated sequel next weekend. Even so, the failure to make Anthony Joshua versus either Fury or Deontay Wilder in boxing’s very own Superbowl is simply unforgivable.
However, that doesn’t mean we merely discount everything else. Though Joshua didn’t fight Wilder or Fury, he did battle with Wladimir Klitschko in one of the most exciting fights we have ever seen, he was obliterated after Andy Ruiz got up off the floor in one of the greatest upsets in history, he engaged in a memorable two-fight rivalry with Usyk, and he made stadiums a standard setting for big fights in the UK. The Ukrainian’s arrival at heavyweight and subsequent triumphs over Joshua, Daniel Dubois and Fury should also add to the lustre of the current landscape.
And though we yearned for both to share dukes with Joshua, Wilder and Fury fought each other three times and every contest, for different reasons, was truly intoxicating. Let’s not forget about Wilder’s first scrap with Luis Ortiz, either. And whether you find Fury engaging or not, he will be remembered as one of boxing’s most fascinating personalities.
There was wild excitement elsewhere, too. Dillian Whyte’s battles with Joseph Parker, Derek Chisora (twice) and his loss to Alexander Povetkin all contained high drama; Chisora can also throw in his wars with Carlos Takam, Parker (second time), and Kubrat Pulev (second time also); Joe Joyce was barely in a dull encounter as his fights with Parker and Daniel Dubois proved; and Dubois’ resurgence provides further seasoning to today’s appeal. Throw in Ortiz against Charles Martin, Frazer Clarke’s thunderous draw with Fabio Wardley, Povetkin emerging from a crisis to halt David Price, Zhilei Zhang stunning Joyce and the narrative deepens.
Now I’m not about to claim that any of those fights should be used as evidence that the current crop is the most talented, but if it’s only faultless skill that floats your boat, please remove the likes of Dempsey-Firpo, Patterson-Johannsson, Foreman-Lyle, Moorer-Cooper and Jefferson-Harris from your list of favorites. At heavyweight, chaotic brawls have always been the most engaging – and we’ve had plenty of those.
The action, the storylines and the characters involved all point to a very solid heavyweight era. So make the most of it because it’s almost over; the torches are already in the process of being passed.
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