IIn the end, everyone runs off the road. Perhaps that's what Tyson Fury needed to say he was robbed at Kingdom Arena on Saturday night. Boxing requires this level of irrationality. No logical millionaire would be willing to schedule a brain-shattering, soul-shredding 30-minute assault from the most effective practitioner of controlled violence ever on the planet? do not. A basic suspension of reason is required. Without it, no one would be able to step into the ring.
Fury will then claim all three judges were wrong to give a unanimous points decision in favor of Oleksandr Usyk after 12 thrilling rounds in Riyadh. Last time, Fury said he lost because of the Ukraine war. This time, he said, it was because of Christmas. No one was robbed here. As a challenger, Fury needed to be aggressive in taking the heavyweight belt. In this event, the champion always seemed to keep his head above water.
The fight was probably closer than the score suggests. But after spending 24 rounds on this, we saw a sleek, slimmed-down Fury1, then this jellyroll-packed version of Fury2, and considered every possibility in between – Semi‑Fat Fury ?Hyper Fat Fury? Fat Fury but without a beard? – There is a sense that they can do this over 20 times and Usyk can win them all with varying degrees of comfort.
For Fury, this is an opportunity where defeat can be ennobling. For athletes, there is no shame or sense of loss in giving their all to the limits of their abilities. Facing the best fighters of modern times, Fury stayed the course twice, giving every drop of juice left in his slender ankles. Sometimes there is no place to escape.
At that point, with money in the bank and the estate dispute safely taken care of, it's definitely the best time to leave the stage.
In any case, from the beginning of this occasion there was always a feeling that Usyk was likely to get his way. At this level, aura, emotion, and propulsion are still influential. Fury offers a familiar energy in its build-up, with dizzying karaoke, a distraught blood-and-therapy aesthetic, cut through modern society, lost in Malaga, melancholy, drunk, and in the abyss. I feel like I'm being sucked into the depths of the world, and I want to bring everything back to this room right now.
Usyk was projecting his own sense of a more orderly destiny and carrying it here like a flag. You drove Mariah Carey crazy. Have the noble Whiskey Man sing a military song. You have a funny Father Christmas idiot. I have the cold white light that carries a nation at war, not to mention the quietly intimidating fringed tunic. In general, it seems that the more a Usyk looks like a druid or Cossack, the more invincible he becomes.
It was another great contest. Boxing is grotesque, greedy and, as of the last few years, potentially a politically motivated tool of a jackbooted state. But it's also so pure that it doesn't melt on contact.
Fury's early shuffles and feints carried his usual flashy grace, floating like a zeppelin in a high-performance apron. He went into this match big with the idea of adding power. It wasn't a completely logical move. One thing Fury doesn't have is that instinctive knockout punch. Why dilute his true strengths – speed, agility, and stamina – by pursuing them? Usyk was already scaring him, making him react, countering him.
Fury had his moments early on. He applied pressure and threw some good right hands, but was met with an endlessly resilient target. Even in Fury's good moments, he was effectively losing this fight, realizing his best wasn't good enough.
Choking Usyk was always going to be a difficult task. How can you give your all to this object when every interaction has a reaction to it, and the other person is constantly learning your movements, forcing you to make continuous micro-calculations?
Usyk has another important advantage. He's basically a super athlete. In between boxing, he could probably run the 400 meter hurdles, play professional basketball, and win the challenge of an ancient Greek warrior. He grows stronger as the fight progresses, perfectly calculating how much of his power to unleash. Playing against him for 12 rounds must feel like being beaten by a team of 12-year-old chess prodigies armed with sledgehammers.
That happened in Riyadh. Outside of the first three rounds, Usyk never looked like he had any energy left, but Fury fought to the limit. Mathematics seemed very easy until the end. Fury is one of the best boxers of his generation. Usyk is the best player of all time.
What's going on with Fury now? There is no doubt that his aura has become dull. The undefeated Fury, the cackling Fury the Destroyer, was the key to his appeal. The 36-year-old has fought many times for world titles. Does anyone really feel the need to know what they still have at this level? Realistically, he should leave this world. Let's try WWE. They co-starred in a scary action movie. Enjoy beef with celebrities on YouTube.
On the other hand, fighters like to talk about legacy. And this is where Fury gets even more interesting. From a boxing perspective, taking the title from Wladimir Klitschko was a rare accomplishment. Deontay Wilder's fight will remain Peak Fury, the absolute death-or-glory pinnacle of his obsession. He was a high class, highly skilled and durable champion at a time when this division existed to be conquered.
Beyond this, his legacy, however unlikely, lies in the part of him that spills out of the ring. Fury doesn't seem to fit into the world all that well. Many people will find it difficult to forgive some strange opinions. After the Klitschko fight, 80,000 people signed a letter calling for Klitschko to be disqualified from the BBC Sports Personality of the Year award over his musings about the Bible, but also because of homosexual fears and the kitchen. It all started with a slight commotion towards the women who belonged to him.
Fury will keep saying the wrong things. He espouses an unusual strain of evangelical Christianity. He is a relative of Bartley Gorman, the bare-knuckle king of the 1970s and 1980s who fought in quarries and horse shows. He describes himself as an “alien” removed from his life as a traveler.
But in reality, many people love Fury. He has become an influential voice on mental health, depression and addiction, and his deep-bearded, yeti-like energy, the way he speaks freely about the dark nights of his own soul, makes him an inspiration. There are things that have an impact that cannot be controlled. Fury came back from a dark place, went to a dark place and came back again. It breaks through. Whether this is seen as advocacy, campaigning, or simply self-preservation, it remains the most rewarding part of our public and private lives, spent dancing in the harshest of lights.
So far, Fury has shown in Saudi Arabia that he can still fight like a contender, if not at the level of a Hall of Fame champion. There doesn't seem to be any need for him to do it again, either sportingly or financially. Except for the obvious question of what exactly is he going to do when it's finally gone?
