Just after 10 o’clock on Wednesday night Tyson Fury stepped into a boxing ring in a new stadium on a patch of scrubland on the fringes of Riyadh. The 6ft 9in giant simply lifted his long legs over the ropes, as if he was striding across a low fence, and soon began dancing to a bizarre soundtrack which stretched from AC/DC to Depeche Mode.
Fury, the world heavyweight champion, skipped around the ring with whoops and yelps which confirmed that he was not troubled by nerves as he moved through his final workout before Saturday night’s ridiculous fight when he faces Francis Ngannou – who has never boxed professionally before.
Ngannou, the former UFC heavyweight champion, was a formidable force in mixed martial arts, but the almost embarrassing difference between his and Fury’s boxing craft was evident on a surreal night which suited the absurd nature of a stunt tagged as the Battle of the Baddest. That clunky slogan has been used to sell Saturday’s glorified exhibition with more enthusiastic commentators suggesting that this is the biggest crossover bout since Floyd Mayweather Jr and Conor McGregor generated hundreds of millions of dollars in 2017.
It’s impossible to forget how terrible that scrap was six years ago, as McGregor barely laid a glove on the master boxer, and so any mention of such a travesty actually carries more of a threat than Ngannou will bring to the ring against Fury. At least the heavyweight from Cameroon tried to make a cheerful entrance when his own warm-up preceded Fury. He walked to the ring in a mock dress rehearsal, as Burna Boy boomed around the open-air Boulevard Hall which was built over the past 60 days. The main arena has still not been completed, and it smells of fresh paint, and so Ngannou and Fury strutted around the smaller undercard venue.
Mike Tyson was meant to train Ngannou in a desperate attempt to top up pay-per-view sales, but the former baddest man on the planet had not yet appeared in Riyadh. It was left to a stand-in, Dewey Cooper, to hold the pads as Ngannou threw some lumbering punches. Perhaps this is all an adroit trick and Ngannou will be far more equipped to face Fury – but this public workout did not bode well. The MMA grappler looked every inch a boxing novice who began concentrating on this specialist discipline eight weeks ago.
Fury, instead, showcased the lightness of his feet, and speed of hand, as he sank blurring combinations into the pads flashed by his trainer, Sugarhill Steward. Of course Fury, who looked leaner than he had done in recent months, is preparing to face Oleksandr Usyk in a world heavyweight title unification bout in the same venue on 23 December. That fight will be a genuine battle between two highly skilled and vastly experienced champions who have both been boxing since they were young boys.
Saturday night, in contrast, is a charade and the only belt to be handed over after the fight, which is scheduled for 10 rounds, will be the curious trinket dreamed up by the WBC. The dubious sanctioning body call it the Riyadh Champion belt and said its purpose is “to highlight the unique nature of this combat sports event. Octagon shapes, synonymous with MMA, have been intricately placed across its face. Positioned at the heart of the design, the flag of Saudi Arabia pays tribute to the host city and nation, reflecting the warmth and hospitality for which The Kingdom is known.”
According to Amnesty International there have been more than a hundred political executions in Saudi Arabia this year, with death sentences or decades of imprisonment punishing mild criticism of the regime. And so the “warmth and hospitality” gathers a dark chill away from the strategy of the Saudi state to buy in international sporting events as a way to sanitise the country’s image and boost further its already vast economy.
Ngannou and Fury were more prosaic in their post-workout statements. “To be honest, I haven’t got any respect from the boxing community,” Ngannou said wistfully. “I need to claim my own respect. You don’t just walk out there and demand people to respect you for no reason. I am going to fight and if that big shot comes, it comes. Anything is possible. Who would’ve believed this a couple years ago?”
Fury looked as if he could hardly believe the gigantic purse he will make for fighting an amateur boxer. This is not to denigrate Ngannou – but the stark reality is that he cannot be expected to have mastered the art of boxing in only a few months. And so Fury built up a light sweat, while his bald head gleamed beneath the hot lights, and he laughed his way through his final relaxed preparation.
“I was in there floating like a butterfly,” Fury exclaimed. “Nineteen stone, can you believe that? And 6-foot-9. And moving like that! That’s shocking. It’s not fair, really, but it’s happening. He’s the bull, I’m the matador – 99.999% of the time, the matador wins. Francis Ngannou is a big, fat sausage. That’s why he won’t take his top off. He’s embarrassed by his body. If it was up to Francis, he’d fight with his T-shirt on. Facts!”
The more salutary facts of nationwide repression were swept aside and, just before he left the ring, Fury shouted: “Thank you for turning out to see me tonight in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. What a place. How about this?”
Fury then grinned because not even Saudi Arabia can contain his crass character. “I’m on fire,” he hollered. “I feel fantastic. I’m 35 years young and I’m ready to knock the motherfucker out.”
That last sentence left numerous Saudi dignitaries, resplendent in flowing white robes, looking a little sheepish as they shuffled their feet in dusty embarrassment. The awkward combination of Fury and Saudi Arabia has many more nights to run – continuing with Saturday’s circus.
