If we know anything about boxing fans by now, we know that they will usually do as they are told. We also know that they will accept whatever is chucked their way and express gratitude for fear of being left with nothing at all.
They are, in this respect, not dissimilar to an abused spouse, or an orphan child. They want to be loved and respected, but are so scarred by their history and so beaten down by the people who raised them that they no longer know the difference between affection and abuse. Even just having someone show them interest, or offer them something, is often enough to keep them both quiet and compliant.
In boxing, fans are accustomed to being disappointed. They are accustomed to being disappointed when a fight falls through, or when a good one never gets made. They are accustomed to feeling disappointed by the rising cost of participation – whether in the form of tickets, subscriptions or pay-per-views – but are still content to pay the price, if only to ensure they can watch and feel involved. They are also accustomed to being treated like second-class citizens by those whose pockets they line and whose shows they watch. We are talking now of promoters, of course, who expect fans to treat crusts and crumbs as though they were a gourmet meal while remaining silent during the eating of it. As well as promoters, fans are sometimes even silenced by boxers, men and women who try to put fans in their place by telling them they cannot comment on their exploits unless they have boxed themselves. The idea, as always, is control. Like a child, ideally a fan should be seen and not heard. They should pay their money – for a ticket or pay-per-view – and then only watch, not comment.
In this way, the boxers and the people controlling the boxers get precisely what they want from the experience. Together, they can make money and exist in an inviolate, vacuum-sealed world of their own making. They can, in this world, then do pretty much anything; get away with anything. How nice.
Given all that, it’s no wonder so many outsiders seek to infiltrate this world and wrest some of the control. Recently, we have seen this with Turki Alalshikh, the Saudi Arabian financier who has changed the complexion of the sport and indeed how it functions in the space of just a few years. We have also seen Dana White, the UFC president, puff out his chest and try to involve himself in a business he has spent years, decades even, deriding from the other side of the tracks.
Now, with a belt of his own, White seemingly wants to be part of this abusive, broken home. He is talking the talk, he is walking the walk, and he is offering boxing fans everything they have come to expect from their landlords and overlords. He is the stepdad who just so happens to bear an uncanny resemblance to the man he hopes to replace, proof that Mum has a type. Already he wants you to call him “Dad”.
Before that, it is sometimes beneficial to see how he is when with his other family – in this case, the UFC. There, in that house, White is no less ambitious, combative, and domineering, we have discovered. On Saturday, in fact, White was heard telling his fans, his followers and his children to “shut the fuck up and watch the fights” when they dared to express an opinion regarding the UFC product.
This comment was made during a press conference for the UFC middleweight fight between Israel Adesanya and Joe Pyfer, and it jarred those in mixed martial arts and boxing alike. The aggressive tone and violence of the language White used was one thing. But perhaps what jarred even more than that was the suggestion that whatever a fan had to say was essentially irrelevant in White’s mind. In this instance, there had not even been any criticism aimed at his company’s matchmaking, or a particular fight. Instead, the reporter who asked White the question on Saturday was merely relaying some negative feedback he had encountered concerning the UFC’s increasing reliance on AI-generated content on their broadcasts. This, in 2026, seemed a fair enough question, at least to anyone with an interest in more than just making money from human beings hitting each other.
“Give me a fucking break,” said White, disagreeing. “AI is coming, and if we’re using AI, who gives a shit? People are upset about it, and we should use artists. … How about this? Shut the fuck up and watch the fights.”
If that same theory should be applied to boxing, it is hard to know whether White would be referring to us “shutting the fuck up and watching” Callum Walsh vs Carlos Ocampo, Jose Valenzuela vs Diego Torres, Efe Ajagba vs Charles Martin, or Jai Opetaia vs Brandon Glanton. Whichever it is, only an extremely dull and subservient individual would take a vow of silence and sit with a beatific smile on their face while watching one of those Zuffa Boxing main events. It is true, yes, that some fights can silence critics and are beyond reproach, but to think that the mere making of fights – any fight – is somehow enough to pacify those who give up their time and money to watch them is troubling to say the least.
Besides, it wasn’t long ago that those who should “shut the fuck up and watch the fights” were being threatened by the prospect of Dana White and Eddie Hearn sharing a boxing ring – yes, for a fight. This was teased as the culmination of a tiresome, self-serving back-and-forth between the two promoters, with Oscar De La Hoya, the third wheel, shadowboxing in his garden but deemed too much of a threat. Lucky us.
As for AI, although perhaps not relevant to the making of fights, a person’s view on it does tend to say a lot about the way they think and do business. Supporters of it, or even those “resigned” to it, are typically a certain type, and if you are remotely observant, you will be aware of this type. Gather enough of these types in one room and trying to spot the human being becomes almost as difficult as it is for a schoolteacher to spot original thoughts in a child’s homework. That doesn’t mean these people are necessarily bad, by the way. All it means is that if a human being should bend over for AI so quickly and so easily, they should perhaps belong on some sort of register and be prohibited from going within a mile of any school.
Otherwise, without this ability to ostracize and shame, we truly will be entering the season of slop. This will become apparent not only in the creative world – something far more vital than boxing – but also in fight sports, which we used to take seriously. Already, in fact, we have proof of how slop, as an ethos, has infected boxing and impacted the kind of fights that are getting made and how we, the brainwashed, come to see these fights. If we weren’t so accustomed to slop, would we have accepted the infestation of Jake Paul, for example? Would we have entertained all the other Jake Paul wannabes that have since tried and failed to emulate him? Would we have been OK with seeing world-class heavyweights fight influencers and mixed martial artists? Would we be cool with Oleksandr Usyk, the best heavyweight on the planet, defending his WBC heavyweight title against a kickboxer on May 23 in Egypt?
No, probably not. But the thing is, once a fan’s money loses its power in the eyes of promoters – and make no mistake, it has – the rules of the game start to change a little bit. Now your stepdad doesn’t even have to pretend to like you for the benefit of your mum. Now he can call you a “c***” to your face and still expect you to hug him.
Elliot Worsell is a boxing writer whose byline first appeared in Boxing News magazine at the age of 17. He has, in the 20 years since, written for various publications, worked as press officer for two world heavyweight champions and won four first-place BWAA (Boxing Writers Association of America) awards. In addition to his boxing writing, Worsell has written about mixed martial arts for Fighters Only magazine and UFC.com, as well as worked as a publicist for the Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC). He has also written two non-fiction books, one of which, “Dog Rounds,” was shortlisted at the British Sports Book Awards in 2018.
