In most countries, boxing champions are more than athletes. These are national treasures. These are symbols of pride, struggle and identity. They are honored, decorated and celebrated, no matter what happens in the ring.
In Mexico, Julio César Chávez Sr. still revered as a national hero, almost untouchable in status decades after his lead. Canelo álvarez can divide the opinion, but the country never turns on him. Presidents shake their hands, and the whole arena is in the singing of their names.
In the Philippines, Manny Pacquiao was not just cheered. He was elected to the senator, given the highest honor of the nation, and embraced in victory and defeat.
In the UK, Anthony Joshua received an UBE, Tyson Fury moved hundreds of thousands to the parades, and Ricky Hatton had the entire cities that sang his name unanimously.
In Japan, Naoya inoue fights at 9 in the morning and still sells arenas. Government officials and corporations stand up to celebrate him as a symbol of national excellence.
In Ukraine, Vasyl Lomachenko and Oleksandr utilities became living symbols of resistance during war, directly linked to national pride and military courage.
But in the United States it is different.
America, the exception
The US does not agree around its champions. Too often it tears them off. Local fighters are struggling, while foreign opponents are cheering like adopted heroes.
Floyd Mayweather was one of the biggest defensive geniuses the sport has ever seen. Still, he was struggling in America, called boring, and forced to embrace the rogue just to sell tickets.
Deontay Wilder was a knockout machine, a heavyweight with one -time nuclear power, but he never enjoyed the same embrace of Anthony Joshua in Britain. In the American arenas, Wilder often looked like the visitor, drowned by traveling British fans.
Andre Ward was everything fans claimed to have an Olympic gold medal, unbeaten champion, gentle, family man and a role model outside the ring. Yet he is undervalued and undervalued, his brilliance was rejected as ‘dull’.
Terence Crawford was flawless, destructive in the ring, humble and respectful out there. Yet Omaha is the only place where he is treated like the champion he is; Nationally, he has never received the platform or the love he deserves.
Even Shakur Stevenson, a young, unbeaten technician, was thrown into his own backyard of Newark because he was “too technical”.
The lesson? In America, it doesn’t matter who you are or how you fight.
If you are smooth and defensive, you are ‘boring’.
If you are a co-artist, you are ‘one-dimensional’.
If you are fancy, you are ‘arrogant’.
If you are humble, you are ‘dull’.
There is no winning formula.
The British contrast
Meanwhile, loyalty across the Atlantic is unconditional.
Golovkin learned it in the difficult way. When he fought against Kell Brook in London, he was the unbeaten middleweight scare for the sport. But when the hikes began, it was Brook who cheered the beams, and Golovkin struggling. The message was simple: In Britain, your man has back, regardless of the chance.
The same loyalty is the reason why Ricky Hatton was worn even in defeat like a king, and why Tyson Fury, despite scandals and setbacks, still fills arenas with voices that never turn against him.
The Olympic clue
Even during the Olympics, the difference is obvious.
In Cuba, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and Ukraine, medals are celebrated like national treasures.
In the US, Olympic boxers return home unnoticed, and often become professional without the fanfare that would bring their medals.
The question that hangs
Other countries celebrate their fighters because they are.
In America, champions are struggling whether they are offensive or defensive, humble or struggling, artists or pure boxers.
So if champions are hated, no matter what they do, what’s left to explain?
Other countries celebrate their fighters as national treasures.
Why is America the only place where evil drowns the flag?
