I'M DREADING USYK VS FURY 2 AND HERE'S WHY

As the attention of boxing fans shifts this weekend to Riyadh for one of the biggest fights of the last decade, I have an awkward confession to make: I’m not looking forward to Usyk-Fury II. In fact, I’m rather dreading it. Assuming all the pearls of said boxing fans are now clutched, let me tell you why.

I should say that I did actually voice this fear on a boxing forum earlier this week, keen to engage in some interesting debate. And would you believe, among those calling me a ‘Usyk Libtard Dickrider’, and asking if I was ‘delusional or had a gambling problem’, quite a few people wholeheartedly agreed with me. And as it turned out, we’re all scared of the same thing.

Oleksandr Usyk is unquestionably an all-time great. He has cleaned out two whole divisions, including a cruiserweight catalogue of stone-cold killers. He has taken on all-comers and done it in style: of his 22 professional fights, 11 have been title challenges or defences, 17 when you count the inter-continental belt. Add to this his amateur triumphs - Olympic, World and European Championship gold medals all sit in his trophy cabinet - and you are looking at a generational talent.

I desperately want Usyk to beat Tyson Fury, retire, and leave the sport with his legacy and faculties intact, and nothing left to prove. But, as much as I believe in Usyk and his immense skills, I feel increasingly nervous, and not just because I’m afraid my fighter might lose. I’m dreading the sport yet again being held hostage.

I’m tired of Tyson Fury. I’m tired of him, and I want him to go away. I’m done with the whole dog-and-pony show, and the Fury family’s stranglehold on boxing, or whatever it is they’ve turned boxing into. The sport has always had a healthy mix of ‘entertainment’ mixed with sport, but in a time of multiple belts, champions fighting perhaps twice a year, and the increasingly byzantine system that challengers have to navigate to even catch a glimpse of a title fight, Tyson Fury has taken this element to an extreme.

For every half-decent match up, there are multiple tomato cans, novelty fights and delays, and yet despite a surprisingly sparse CV, Fury continues to proclaim himself as the best of his generation. Other Champions and contenders toil in his gargantuan shadow, praying for an undercard slot or an also ran mention in an article’s footnotes.

Fighters’ careers and skills wither away as they vainly wait for Fury to finish his latest gap year from the sport he professes to love, lost in a labyrinth of purse negotiations and training injuries. Fans’ elation at Fury’s mythic return to face Deontay Wilder has long since turned to vinegar.

But surely, you might say, if you think Usyk is such a monster, you can’t be worried that he’ll lose? Why would there be any funny business in this fight?

It’s hardly a secret that boxing worships at the altar of money. The reality is that no savvy fighter is putting their record and health on the line unless there’s a cheque waiting for them afterward, with a lot of zeros on it. The risks of being shunted to the back of the queue or ending up with a brain injury demand no less. And there are far more zeros to be had for everyone concerned if Fury wins on the 21st December. Because if he does, it's 1-1. That means there’s the open goal of a trilogy, perhaps in the UK, and the gravy train can keep on rolling, because Cirque-del Fury is back in town, and it ain’t leaving any time soon.

If Fury does win, no matter what any contract says, all bets are off on what happens next. The man changes what he says as easily as breathing. One day he’s retired, next day he’s not. He loves fighting, wait, no, he only does it for the money. He’s going to do MMA, actually scrap that, he’s going to do WWE, actually, he’s retired again, ACTUALLY no he’s going box an MMA fighter.

In the midst of all this, you could imagine the missed calls from the WBC et al. frantically piling up. Will that trilogy fight ever actually happen? Or will fans be left hanging as the conclusion to a great trilogy is left unfinished?

But despite these antics, with belt ownership comes the security of an inevitable pay-day for all concerned, so Fury could afford to act out, as he would hold the winning hand. If he wins, I can’t help but despair that we will all be in for yet another round of silly-season exhibitions, delays and needless training injuries, but boxing media won’t care, because Fury gets clicks [ED: No shit].

Never mind about title fights at featherweight or eliminators lower down the food chain, what did Tyson have for breakfast? When is his next reality show coming out? Other fighters slaving away in New York or London gyms must despair that their efforts in the small hall get a few dozen clicks, while Tyson fights some rent-a-win for millions, and Big John gleefully grabs multiple headlines for headbutting an intern at a weigh-in.

I have never really been a huge fan of Fury, but this grumpiness was previously paired with a grudging acknowledgement that he was an elite fighter, with speed, style and ring generalship. Now, though, as I grow older and uglier, I am increasingly joining the camp that believes that Fury is less ‘rare talent’, and more ‘loudmouth in the right place at the right time’, the perennial problem-child of boxing that won’t go away. Is he an all-time great, or was he merely made to look like one by those around him?

Simply put, Fury doesn’t have a good CV. Despite a 36-fight career, his past bouts don’t contain many names that jump off the page. Common consensus is that he was gifted a win over John McDermott. He struggled to defeat a much smaller Steve Cunningham. His crowning glory is the victory over an ageing Wlad Klitschko. For context, Fury landed just 86 punches of 371 thrown, and Klitschko landed 52 of 231. In his first fight with Joshua, Usyk landed 170 punches on his own. Beating Klitschko was a good win, yes, but Ali-Foreman, it was not.

Fury’s fights with Wilder also bear closer examination. What Fury deserves credit for is being the only person smart enough to see the truth about Wilder. He certainly had a good showreel, but Wilder was no division boogeyman: he was a freak anomaly. An aspiring mid-level journeyman, who instead found himself wiping out a division starved of talent. Fury, on the outside looking in after his exile, understood the reality of things behind the curtain.

While Eddie Hearn kept telling us that ‘the money wasn’t right’, as if he was down to his last tenner, Tyson gazzumped Matchroom and AJ, and took the fast track back to the top of the pyramid. I can’t help but wonder how different things might have been, if Povetkin’s B-sample hadn’t melted the cup way back in 2016, ahead of his own contest with the Bronze Bomber. 

What Fury does have in spades is character and charisma, two things boxing has always been desperate for, especially during his initial rise after 10 years of heavyweight jab-and-grab doldrums. He puts on a show and gives funny interviews, the chaotic anthesis to AJ’s media-trained rigour. He famously says he’ll fight ‘any man born from his mother’, and that no-one can beat him. But when you peel back the layers of hyperbole and realise that the AJ-Fury-Wilder era was never blessed with overt quality, you do start to think that Fury is a bit all-fur-coat-and-no-knickers.  

The reality for me is that Fury has long outstayed his welcome in the sport, a sport that sorely needed him when he arrived, but is now ready to move on. The heavyweight belts, division, and indeed the whole sport of boxing are at the risk of being held hostage yet again. If Fury is victorious, would we see a trilogy fight? Perhaps, but I wouldn’t bet on it. But who knows, perhaps Jake Paul and Sefer Seferi want to do a cage match in Qatar instead (16oz gloves only).