US boxing is in danger

US boxing is in danger of being consumed by its own ******* children

The rise of Ultimate Fighting and its ugly offshoots is hastening the decline of the grand old game that spawned it

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Boxing's profile has sunk so low in the US that young, talented and charismatic fighters like Paulie Malignaggi go largely ignored. Photograph: Dave Thompson/PA

After three weeks pounding the boxing beat in America, I've come to an uncomfortable, unavoidable conclusion: the grubby old game is struggling here more than at any time since

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.
Hardcore boxing people have been saying it for years. But, look around, from New York to Los Angeles to Las Vegas: crowds and pay-per-view revenues are falling; those gyms that are left have few real fighters and survive on the enthusiasm of fat guys trying to stave off middle age by pretending they are the reincarnation of Rocky Marciano; there are no amateur stars coming through (the US had a single medallist in Beijing – bronze for a very ordinary heavyweight).
Good fighters can walk down the street in their own neighbourhood and they will be in more danger of being mugged by a stranger than asked for an autograph. More noticeably, there is no real buzz around major fights now – apart from that provided by the still sizeable Latino audience, and visiting Brits.
This is good, short-term news for those such as

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and

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who have filled the big arenas here against local fighters who couldn't draw water. And while it should be embarrassing for Bernard Hopkins, Roy Jones Jnr and Paulie Malignaggi to be underdogs in their own backyard, shouted down by Cockneys, Taffs and Mancs, all they can do is take it. They are not stars, they are employees.
Malignaggi, a loud, good-looking Italian from the Bronx,

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in what should have been the pinnacle of his young career. But it wasn't. It was a well-paid pit-stop. The Magic Man, as he calls himself, knew he was a dancing partner. In another time, he might have been a Rocky Graziano. Last night, with only a sprinkling of his travelling fans scattered around a hall packed with Hattonites, he knew he was a step or two up from the pizza delivery boy.
'When I started boxing,' says Malignaggi, the son of a former footballer from Sicily , 'I thought it would be a lot bigger than this. I grew up watching guys like Sugar Ray Leonard, Oscar De La Hoya. And I thought, " That's gonna be me."
'There's a crisis in boxing, not because of us, the boxers – because we have talent, young championship boxers [he reels off a few names known only to the hardcore ] – but because we're too busy feeding off 100-year-old fighters.'
He might have mentioned Evander Holyfield – 46 and still punching – but maybe even Malignaggi has forgotten who he is.
People know who Oscar De La Hoya is. That's why his

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against Manny Pacquiao sold out in 17 minutes. But there's a twist to that tale: many of those tickets went straight to the casino, who planned to entice high rollers to their property with them. But the top-end take-up has been poor, so the tickets are back on the market. The revenue for that fight now rests heavily on the pay-per-view sales.
Television brought boxing to the masses in America in the 1950s, but, distracted by other pleasures, they got bored with it. Then, after the glorious hiatus of the Ali era, when the heavyweight champion was the most recognisable person in the world, cable and subscription moved in, and the governing bodies split and multiplied. From that time on, about 25 years ago, boxing in the US has been on skid row.
'On TV here, you don't see boxing,' says Malignaggi. 'You walk into any bar in my town, New York, it's all college football, basketball, baseball. These sports were always big, back in the day, but boxing was also big. Boxing has taken a back seat.
'Bernard Hopkins, what he did last month against Kelly Pavlik, if he was in any other country, that would have been the No 1 sports story the next day. At his age, what he did, to the world middleweight champion, he would have been the pride of the country, wherever he was from. In the United States, he got, like, the 10th or 11th page of the newspapers. A little story.
'The New York Post, in my own town,three days before my fight, nothing. It's a shame. I've grown accustomed to it.'
If a charismatic kid like Paulie Malignaggi can't create excitement in his home town of New York, or the alleged boxing capital of the world, Las Vegas, the sport, the business, is obviously in bad shape.
So, where are the fans? The economic downturn hasn't helped – yet it doesn't seem to have put a hole in the takings from the growing phenomenon of ultimate fighting and all its ugly offshoots. Last weekend, the arena that last night was so obviously padded out by complimentaries was bulging with paying punters who slavered over a 45-year-old wrestler/fighter/brawler called Randy Couture and a bull-necked opponent named Brock Lesner. Tickets were going on The Strip for $1,000 and more.
And there in the celebrity seats was Hatton, who started in kick-boxing, loving it. 'They know how to put on a show,' he said . Not far away was Wayne McCullough, who has lived in Las Vegas since moving from Belfast 16 years ago. He won a world boxing title – and might have got the decision against Naseem Hamed – but is better recognised among this crowd as an 'ambassador' for Ultimate Fighting Championship.
'Come and see it,' he says . 'It's great stuff. You'll love it.'
Yes, I tell him, but for the love of Mike, this is like watching your mates fight outside the pub on a Saturday night. And that might be why it's popular – which is a depressing commentary on the fading attraction of boxing, a sport that, for all its faults, is still an art.
Professional boxing needs America. If the fight game doesn't shake off its lethargy soon, it runs the risk of being swamped by these ******* children of the fighting game. You won't find many Jeremiahs within the boxing business tipping garbage on their own heads, though. They continue to talk a good fight. Why wouldn't they? It's their living. But it's not the crazy, wonderful game it was and anyone who says it is more than likely has invested a lot of someone else's money in it.
In Britain, we have a few very good pros and the amateur game is thriving on the back of a great Olympics, and there will be even more success in London in four years' time. But they will eventually turn professional and the likelihood is the game will have changed considerably by then.
This is not easy to accept for someone who has grown up with boxing. Nobody who loves it (with whatever degree of ambivalence that smart intellectualising brings to the argument) will welcome the sight of empty seats at big fights, the gathering cynicism and impatience of television executives and, believe it or not, the not-too-distant retirement of old scallywags such as Don King and Bob Arum.
How did this happen? How did a sport that has delivered thousands and thousands of exciting nights, stretching back to the crude bareknuckle days of Georgian England and on during the glamorous days of the Royal Albert Hall and Madison Square Garden all the way through the 20th century, come to be scrabbling around on its hands and knees like some punch-drunk bum, with not a friend in the world?
Greed. As elsewhere and everywhere, in boxing money warps principles and so-called perspective. For instance, eight years ago Arum said he wanted his client at the time, De La Hoya, to retire after he had lost two of his previous three fights. Who is co-promoting De La Hoya vs Manny? Arum. It's an all-round problem. There is never enough blood in the stone.
Greed has been both the inspiration and the poison of the fight game since it was born. Now, however, there is fear in the boardroom. Greed and fear make for volatile partners in any business. Malignaggi, his eyes not as bright as a young boxer's should be, says: 'I still love what I do, don't get me wrong, but I treat it more now, like, this is my living. It gets to make a better life for me, financially. And I love being on stage, I love entertaining, but, as far as my chase for stardom, I think I let that go a little while ago. When I was young, I guess it was kind of a naive dream. It was never really going to happen. Not the way boxing in this country is now.'
The obituaries have been written many times before, and this is not one of them. But it is time to be worried. The old game can't take too much more punishment.

 

Until it reaches network television boxing won't reach the main stream. So it continues to die.
Also notice how very few amateurs there are.