Despite being one of the professional sporting world’s most profitable and oldest endeavours, boxing has always faced a number of organizational flaws, the most prominent of these being its almost complete lack of organization.
In place of a single major governing body to lead it — like what the UFC is to Mixed Martial Arts — boxing employs a confusing combination of state athletic commissions, sanctioning bodies, promoters, managers, and television networks. This leads to dramatic build-ups and a cast of characters not seen in any other major sport, but also breeds corruption and inefficiency which result in an inferior product.
Unless something drastic happens between this article being written and it being printed, on Sept. 14 in Las Vegas, Floyd ‘Money’ Mayweather Jr. and Saul ‘Canelo’ Alvarez stepped into the ring for 12 rounds and stepped out significantly richer men. Obscene amounts of money flowed into the pockets of everyone involved with the pay-per-view broadcast, from the fighters to the promoters to the proprietors of the venue, the MGM Grand.
But overshadowing the financial and competitive success of the event is the inescapable fact that the sheer number of champions in boxing is far too high. Before the fight, both Mayweather and Alvarez were recognized as the World Boxing Association’s Super Welterweight champion.
Even more ridiculous is that, on the very same card, two other fighters will also fight for a version of the Super Welterweight championship, one presented by another sanctioning body — the International Boxing Federation. In fact, with four major sanctioning bodies and 17 weight classes, anywhere up to 68 fighters can be recognized as a world champion.
There is not one weight class in prizefighting where the four major sanctioning bodies agree on who is the best. The once-distinguished prize of being “the man who beat the man” is now split up amongst more unaccomplished fighters with great management and connections.
The lack of importance of title belts was underscored when Alvarez first became a champion and denied more challenging fights with the excuse of needing “more time to develop.” This is roughly the equivalent of the Baltimore Ravens deciding that instead of facing San Francisco in the Super Bowl, they would rather go up against an easier team and allow the 49ers to share the championship with them.
Another major problem highlighted by the lead-up to the Mayweather-Alvarez tilt was how surprised even the most seasoned sports writers were that the fight was made, at all. The idea that the two best fighters in a division would square off was so foreign that, until all the papers were signed, the notion that this fight would happen was written off as a ludicrous rumour. And who could blame the writers for thinking that?
Throughout the past five years or so, when Floyd Mayweather and Manny Pacquiao were not only considered the two best fighters around the Welterweight division, but the best fighters pound-for-pound, a bout between the two superstars could not be made. Not even the promise of tens of millions of dollars each and a temporary outdoor stadium on the Vegas strip could convince them to step in the ring together. Since 2007, the men have shared five opponents but refused to prove who deserved the title of champion by fighting each other.
Really, what could improve boxing’s standing as an organized professional sport is any organization to speak of. A singular, overarching governing organization for the sport would replace or reduce the importance of the myriad of managers, shady promoters, and corrupt sanctioning bodies; such changes would create less confusion over who the champion of a division is and help mandate more competitive fights.
That, however, is much easier said than done. This is a sport that was born in corruption, a sport that once made boxing promoter — and convicted murderer — Don King a very rich man before completely decimating his business. It’s a sport that celebrates the best and worst of free-market capitalism, and, perhaps, a sport beyond saving.
