It is a figure that discombobulates the mind every bit as sharply as a right hook to the temple. When Tyson Fury fights Oleksandr Usyk in Saudi Arabia for the WBA, WBC, IBF and WBO world heavyweight championship belts in the early hours of Sunday morning, local time, he will reportedly earn a guaranteed £81.5m. And if pay-per-view sales are rosy enough, it could even balloon to more than £100m.
It is a brain-swelling amount of cash. Yet as both men prepare to step into the ring in Riyadh, history is also on their minds. Because, for the first time since Lennox Lewis defeated Evander Holyfield in November 1999, boxing is about to get another member of a very exclusive club: that of undisputed heavyweight champion.
The legendary promoter Bob Arum, who even at 92 can sell a fight with the best of them, describes it as the “biggest event in boxing in decades”. Unsurprisingly, that bullishness is also shared by an executive from the streaming channel, Dazn, which will show the fight to 20 million premium subscribers in more than 200 countries. “It will be the biggest pay-per-view fight in history,” he tells the Guardian.
But aside from the hype and history, this fight is also about symbolism and shifting sands. About where boxing is, and where Saudi Arabia is going.
The New Yorker’s editor, David Remnick, once suggested that “heavyweight-championship fights, from the days of John L Sullivan onward, are stories, morality plays … it is not enough that one man shock another man’s brain and send him reeling. There must be politics, too – or, at least, great lumps of symbol, historical subplots, metaphysical frosting.”
From Jack Johnson becoming the first black fighter to win the title in 1908 and destroying the narrative of white supremacy onwards, those words have rung true. Think of the American Joe Louis boxing the German Max Schmeling amid the looming shadow of a second world war. Muhammad Ali demanding “What’s my name, [Uncle] Tom?” to Ernie Terrell in 1967 when he refused to use his Muslim name. Ali’s Rumble in the Jungle with George Foreman in Zaire in 1974. And countless other stories before and since.
Fury versus Usyk? Well, that is significant too, as it marks another major step on big-time sport’s elopement with Saudi Arabia. It has been a staggeringly speedy romance. When another British heavyweight, Anthony Joshua, fought in Diriyah in 2019, his promoter Eddie Hearn predicted that the kingdom would overtake Las Vegas as the world’s premier venue for mega fights. That prophecy has already become a reality.
Saudi Arabia insists that it is using sport as a force for societal change, as part of its Vision 2030 plans, which aim to get more people active, boost living standards and open up the kingdom to tourists. They also point to how fast things have moved – with women now free to not only work and watch sports, but encouraged to participate in them.
Yet earlier this month it also emerged that a Saudi woman, Manahel al-Otaibi had been sent to prison for 11 years after being found guilty of “terrorism offences”. Her crime? Calling for an end to the guardianship system and for videos of her shopping without an abaya. Her story is hardly an outlier, either. In 2022, 81 people were executed on the same day in the kingdom.
However, for a sport that has always put realpolitik and cash ahead of morality, Saudi money has been a gamechanger. It has led warring promoters to break bread and make peace as well as egos, exorbitant demands and disputes among rival broadcasters to be navigated. And, as a result, for super fights to be made.
While there is no great sense that boxing can be teleported back 50 or 60 years to its glory days, where every sports fan would know the heavyweight champion of the world, Fury against Usyk is a compelling fight, with two compelling protagonists.
Critics of Fury point to a two-year doping ban, his decade-old comments claiming Armageddon would come when abortion, homosexuality and paedophilia were legalised, and more recent remarks praising Daniel Kinahan, the alleged leader of a notorious drug cartel, and flinch.
Others, however, see a redemption story. For Fury is not only bipolar but has overcome severe drug, alcohol and mental health issues to return to the top of his sport. Every saint has a past, they say, and every sinner has a future. And the 35-year-old is a remarkably skilful fighter, whose 6ft 9in frame, long reach and sharp footwork presents a riddle for opponents when he is in shape.
Usyk, meanwhile, is six inches shorter, three stone lighter, 18 months older, and has a much smaller reach. But he has faced bigger men before and dazzled them with his speed and trickery, his feints and sleight of hand. He also is fighting for a cause bigger than himself: his home country Ukraine.
With both men also undefeated, the ingredients look to be in place for an enthralling fight for the ages. And while nothing is guaranteed in the glittering, fuzzy and sometimes scuzzy world of heavyweight boxing, plenty will pay to find out.
