When Mike Tyson and Jake Paul finally step into the ring to face each other in what is alleged to be a boxing match, they will instead be showcasing what little talent either remains or was ever present in a dismal clown show that will only be missing a red nose worn by both frauds.
Is this the fight we all need, or just the latest theatrical escapade dragging boxing further into the circus tent? Sure, we “need” this bout like we need a new comeback album from Britney Spears or a new “Joe Dirt” movie featuring David Spade. Come to think of it, a mix between obvious mental health issues and rolling around in the mud might be the perfect analogy.
Once upon a time, boxing gave us legends like Ali, Frazier, and Sugar Ray Leonard. Now, we’re witnessing a YouTuber with a completely padded resume go toe-to-toe with a 58-old Tyson, a man who admittedly reigned supreme when VHS was still a thing.
But boxing’s current state seems perfectly suited for such a spectacle, as the sport further devolves into a carnival attraction rather than serious competition. What remains of “boxing” has in recent years provided little in the way of “must see” events, instead shoveling sporting excrement into the fray and stealing money from the shockingly gullible.
Consider the numbers, if you have the stomach for it.
Jake Paul, who once claimed he was the individual to “save boxing,” is 7-1. Yet his “opponents” have included other YouTubers and retired UFC fighters with barely a punch left in them. They would only be considered “tomato cans” if those cans had been leaking onto the floor like so much brain matter from what was left rolling around in their cranial shells.
If Jake Paul’s record was analyzed by any serious boxing historian, it would look like a list of friendly sparring partners in desperate need of enough dinner money for a a fast-food drive-thru, rather than credible opponents. Has he faced a seasoned fighter in his prime? Not unless you’re counting the shadows he fights in his own videos. In reality, the matchups are designed for him to win, not unlike the scripted drama in reality TV, where conflict and chaos are built into the storylines. With Paul’s fights so expertly crafted, it’s hard to take his persona as a “serious boxer” as anything more than marketing to cash in on an audience that couldn’t tell a jab from a haymaker.
Anyone who calls Jake Paul a “boxer” is the same type of person who would consider “Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey 2” to be a fun childhood romp thru the chainsaws and eviscerations.
But let us not allow Mike Tyson to so easily slip by. The former “baddest man on the planet,” a flesh-snacking legend without question, is long past the prime years that made him feared worldwide. Now he would only be feared for the potential of being incontinent while browsing the latest in facial tattoos. He’s over 50, closing in on 60, and though he’s in fairly good shape for his age, there’s no avoiding the fact that age limits athleticism. This match-up is akin to watching a beloved, old heavyweight hero getting shoved into a PR machine where nostalgia is the draw, and his former skill set is little more than a footnote.
Tyson’s presence adds credibility in name alone. In reality, it’s more like hiring Clint Eastwood to star in the next Marvel superhero flick. It sounds really cool, but deep down, you know there’s a better chance of the hero breaking a hip than breaking up HYDRA.
So, why is boxing even allowing this farce? Are we really still asking the same old question from decades past? Of course, this is all about “follow the money”. Promoters understand that a real boxing fan might skip a serious match between up-and-coming talents, but put a low brow, low talented, low IQ Paul brother in the ring, and suddenly, you’ve captured that sweet millennial and Gen Z market, the crowd with streaming subscriptions, an open digital wallet, and an appetite for drama over discipline.
They don’t want technical boxing; they want entertainment, and are willing to pay for really bad entertainment so long as there's a wager to be made and alcohol to be consumed.
The result? This so-called fight will bring in big bucks and get lots of eyeballs over to Netflix, as they dip their greedy little toes into the live sporting event showtime, even if it tarnishes the last vestiges of dignity the sport once had.
Is there any dignity left in the sport of boxing? Sure. In the women’s ranks, where the undercard for this mess is what could be the best fight of the evening between Katie Taylor and Amanda Serrano. However, even that features a pair of skilled boxers on the cusp of their prime in their mid to late 30’s, and will unfortunately draw attention from the male mouth-breathers in the audiences who still get their jollies by “watching a chick fight”.
Please, let me take a moment to clear the neanderthal stench.
Tyson-Paul is less about skill and more about spectacle, with promoters counting on viewers’ willingness to pay for what they promise to be “history” but what will likely end up as an exhibition of clumsy punches, bumbling footwork that would make any dance instructor scream in horror, and more missed swings than exhibited by saps preening for attention on “The Golden Bachelorette”.
Meanwhile, UFC is out there hosting legitimate fights with hungry fighters eager to prove themselves. While I still personally consider anything MMA to be just one small step above human cockfighting, I'll give them their due. Fighters like Kamaru Usman and Amanda Nunes don’t rely on gimmicks or manufactured feuds to draw crowds. They bring real talent and hard-won skills to the canvas. Boxing’s reliance on marquee names from bygone eras is just another indicator of the rot in its foundation.
Fans who once thrilled to the tactical genius of Floyd Mayweather or the explosive power of Manny Pacquiao are now forced to watch old has-beens and those who never-were against hackneyed online personalities go at it just to keep the sport on life support.
If this is the best the sport can do, time to turn off the oxygen and call the coroner.
Then there’s the inevitable talk about how “this fight will save boxing” or “bring a new audience.”
Oh, please, stop with the nonsense. You're hurting yourself. .
In reality, it’s just another short-term cash grab. The tragedy lies in how boxing’s reputation takes a hit each time these circus matches are promoted as high-stakes events. Real, talented boxers struggle for attention, while Jake Paul can sell out arenas for a fight that’s essentially a low-grade wrestling storyline without the scripted athleticism. The younger crowd, though perhaps unaware of boxing’s rich legacy, is trained to value clickbait over craft, and the sport, tragically, has adjusted accordingly.
Historically, boxing thrived on skilled matchups and rivalries that truly tested the combatants. Legends like Joe Louis, Roberto Durán, and even later stars like Lennox Lewis brought grit and skill, captivating millions with their commitment to the sport. This “fight,” on the other hand, is simply another sign of the times. It’s not about competition; it’s about the dollar signs each name can bring to the table. The real competitors, those who could be the next big thing in boxing, are sidelined for a farcical spectacle that gives a megaphone to Paul’s Twitter and TikTok following while actual talent fades into the background.
So, for those who signed up for Netflix just to catch this crash course in bad comedy, understand that you’re not watching boxing. You’re funding its demise. You’re saying yes to a show built on hype and devoid of integrity. When the dust settles and this third-rate lounge act ends, boxing will be left scrambling for ways to stay relevant while the real fighters, and the fans who still care about the sport’s legacy, wait for the next sideshow to arrive.
Because thanks to the crooks, con artists and low life promoters running the sport, there will be another laugh fest on the way, and better matches can be seen up close and personal using an old “Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em” robots platform.
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