Anthony Yarde – BOXINGWRITER.CO.UK

Article first published at BigFightWeekend.com

If English Light-Heavyweight Anthony Yarde can find a way to defeat Russian born and unified World Champion Artur Beterbiev at Wembley Arena this weekend, the victory will sit snugly alongside a small cohort of similarly astonishing wins by British fighters.

Traditionalists will argue Beterbiev isn’t Donald Curry, the famous Welterweight of the 80s demolished by Lloyd Honeyghan, which is true, he’s better. There is an argument that Jose Napoles’ longevity and home advantage made John H. Stacey’s 1975 knockout of the veteran great all the more remarkable.

Perhaps so.

However, neither Honeyghan nor Stacey lacked the experience or acumen in anything like the same way the 31-year-old Anthony Yarde does. To win, Yarde will need to perform a leap of Bob Beamon dimension in order to transcend the chasm that exists between him and the fearsome IBF, WBC and WBO champion.

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Article first appeared at Bookmakers.com

Artur Beterbiev is a name not known to all sports fans. Those who dip in and out of boxing, as the pay-per-views come and go, may not appreciate his value or be aware of his brilliance. For regulars who live and breathe in the mad, mad world of boxing, the Russian-born Canadian national, is renowned for his thudding punching power and the measured brutality of his 18 victories, all achieved inside the distance. The competitiveness of his fight with Anthony Yarde hinges on an assessment of whether Beterbiev, who turned 38 last week, remains within that punishing prime, or has age and modest activity eroded his fearsome tools?

There are large rewards for Yarde if he can do it, and lengthy odds at many of the leading betting sites for those who indulge the apparent fantasy.

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I wonder whether it is harder for fighters to etch their legend into our collective psyche these days. The saturation of coverage helps build brands, invites us to know our heroes better, to co-exist beside them. An invited voyeurism that can reveal struggle and educate fans to the risk and reasons that motivate prize fighters but also homogenise those we would otherwise propose possess special powers.

The price of this exposure, if there is one, is this puncturing of a fighter’s mystique, their sense of otherworldliness. Unfettered access has removed the robe of mythology we once wrapped our kings in. I’m not sure even Marvellous Marvin Hagler’s solemnity would have outlasted the chatter of video courtiers every pug with a pair of gloves is now exposed to.

Even the words; Hagler, or Tyson or Duran, still provide a frisson of the electricity fans once felt when they caught the first glimpse of their walk to the ring. Or when their hero’s eyes locked on to his prey.

It is harder for their modern day counterparts to leverage the same awe in their less active careers and, in the case of Saul Alvarez, one of this generation’s most gifted fighters, with the burdensome asterisks of a failed drug test forever attached to his name. Continue reading “Boxing: Canelo seeking greatness an asterisks may deny him” →