In the final few seconds of Jake Paul‘s much-anticipated boxing fight with Mike Tyson, the former YouTuber-turned-boxer had, perhaps for the first time in his peculiar adult life, a moment of lucidity. He looked at the tired man opposite him, and realised the enormity of fighting this legend of sport. Paul finally stopped trying to reach him with his jab, and bowed instead. It was genuinely touching.
That was the only moment of class in a classless circus, a dismal spectacle that illuminated where the sport of boxing is right now. Iron Mike went the distance with Paul, arguably unexpectedly so, but the pair slugged and shadowboxed through eight short rounds of mediocre fighting. Tyson started relatively strong, that famous stinging jab making subtle appearances, but it didn’t last. By round three, he looked like exactly what he was: an old man, frail now, no longer fearsome. There was a weariness behind his eyes, instead of that old venomous glint. He teetered back to his corner between rounds, a man very much feeling his age.
This was modern American culture writ large. I kept thinking of The Wrestler, one of the Great American Movies, the story of an ageing wrestler who continues to fight because it was the only thing he knew how to do well, very well, and needs to keep doing it, his spirit overwhelming his body.
But The Wrestler was a tragedy, and Tyson’s fight with Paul was too. It was a once-great fighter, continuing for the sake of it, sinking to the level of a content creator’s exhibitionism.
The crowd inside AT&T Stadium knew it too. Rarely has a crowd for a boxing match this hyped been so restless. Almost unanimously supporting Tyson, they couldn’t bring it upon themselves to voice their frustration with his tepid fighting; there was just a general air of discontent instead. I found myself drifting from the fight, looking at the bored people ringside: watching clarity dawn on all of them – finally recognising that they had paid to see a young amateur boxer fight a man nearing 60 – would have been comical if it didn’t feel so tragic.
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This was, when all is said and done, not about boxing. It was so transparently, hideously about money, and making as much of it as possible. Tyson was estimated to earn $20 million dollars for the fight, Paul reportedly way more. During the pre-fight buildup, the host cut away from analysis to consult a DraftKings expert. Logan Paul freely sprayed his brother’s own range of body spray on him as they slowly – agonisingly so – made their way to the ring in a blinged-out car. (The car itself was emblazoned with the Celsius energy drink logo.) There were almost too many advertisements to count flashing inside the stadium, from Pepsi to Meta Quest to Experian to Netflix.
But here’s the pertinent thing: I, and so many others, fell for it. I grew up a boxing fan thanks to my father, who showed me clips of Ali in his prime, who loved Prince Naseem Hamed and disliked Lennox Lewis, who couldn’t wait for each Joe Calzaghe fight. I stopped watching many years ago, through dissatisfaction with the lack of exciting fighters. But this fight brought me back. Jake Paul made me watch boxing again. I just had to peer at the ghastly spectacle like Netflix knew I and hundreds of millions of others would. Paul has made boxing globally relevant again, whether we like it or not.
The fight result? It doesn’t matter. Paul won in a unanimous decision. He might have been fighting someone who could be his grandfather, but the fact remains that he is a competent athlete. After his win, he not-so-subtly alluded to the election victory of Donald Trump. “It’s the era of truth… and it feels like we’re back baby!” he shouted. It’s no surprise that Paul would idolise someone like Trump: both men are deeply unqualified for their current jobs.
Opposite him, Tyson was exhausted. He looked crestfallen, perhaps realising what a hopeless endeavour this had been. The interviewer repeatedly poked him to confirm more money-making fights, to which Tyson said yes, but in a quiet, sombre way, with little conviction. Many are saying that this fight has tarnished his legacy, but the man himself knows it hasn’t. “We’re nothing. You’re dead. We’re dust. We’re absolutely nothing. Our legacy is nothing,” he told a young reporter in a viral interview last week. That’s an ideal viewpoint to have if you’re going to fight a former YouTuber three decades after your peak.
Despite Tyson and Paul’s best efforts, though, a great boxing fight did take place today.
On the co-main event, Ireland’s Katie Taylor narrowly defeated Puerto Rico’s Amanda Serrano in an extraordinary epic, two evenly-matched foes fighting at unrelenting speed round after round. It was a blood-soaked battle, Taylor and Serrano showing pure bravery in the face of some severe hits. The skill and strength of both woman was deserving of the victory, although the partisan crowd couldn’t believe the judges went for Taylor.
Putting those two warriors on right before Tyson and Paul provided a tragicomic comparison, a vision of what boxing should be before the finale that boxing wants to be.
In the sport’s future, two fights now feel guaranteed: Taylor and Serrano will probably meet for a third time, recognition of their mutual prowess and shared history, while Paul will fight whomever he wants, superstar boxer Canelo Álvarez if he gets his wish. If I care at all about sport, about integrity, and about skill, I should watch Taylor vs. Serrano. But I’ll probably end up watching the other.
