It is a surreal thing to see history unfold in real time before it has yet become history. That was the experience of watching Tyson Fury and Oleksandr Usyk’s first clash, from ringside, as they warred over the right to be called undisputed heavyweight champion.
It was a title that no man had held in 24 years – not since Lennox Lewis gave up one of his belts, a year after beating Evander Holyfield.
A year before Fury and Usyk first shared a ring, on 18 May 2024, they seemed to be on the verge of agreeing to a bout. Petty squabbles over money, when each man was already guaranteed a life-changing amount, delayed the fight. “Delayed” is the word we can use now; at the time, it appeared the fight might have been lost forever.
It was then signed in autumn 2023, to take place this February, but with Fury first facing Francis Ngannou – a former UFC champion, a boxing debutant. Despite the Cameroonian’s inexperience in the boxing ring, Fury scorned the decision to announce his fight with Usyk before he had even beaten Ngannou.
Fury was right to be wary but it was seemingly a superstitious feeling; he had not been wary enough of Ngannou to train properly, it appeared, as the mixed martial artist dropped Fury in the early rounds – in one of the most shocking scenes in boxing history. That is no hyperbole.
Fury, 36, won a controversial decision to keep his clash with Usyk, 37, intact. Yet the February date could not be rescued when Fury suffered a cut in sparring, barely two weeks before fight night.
So, when Fury vs Usyk was rebooked for May, expectations were tempered. It was hard to get excited. There is an old adage that a fight is not “on” until both men are in the ring and the first bell rings.
And that was almost true, on this occasion. For this writer, at least, the fight was “on” when the Kingdom Arena went pitch black, and Usyk’s music hit.
Only then did the realisation dawn, the reality: this is actually going to happen.
It had been a long day in the arena in Riyadh, and it would be a long night. Having arrived at around 3pm local time, many of us would not drag weary bodies into the harsh Saudi sunlight, and heat, until 6am. It is a privilege to be present for the biggest fights, and none are bigger than Fury vs Usyk 1, but the day naturally drained energy and there had been little atmosphere to speak of during the undercard.
It was all worth it, though, when Fury and Usyk finally emerged. The Ukrainian was out first, the unified champion marching out in a green, militaristic jacket with a fur hat – embellished with feathers. “Cossack warriors, 17th century,” said Usyk’s promoter, Alex Krassyuk, of the inspiration for the outfit. “The head of state, who was a warrior himself, the leader, he was wearing that. If you take a look at some historical drawings of Bohdan Khmelnytsky, a very important person in Ukrainian history, this outfit was inspired by those leaders.”
Usyk indeed looked like a general storming towards the frontline, pertinent given his country’s ongoing war with Russia, as he sported a stern expression and was soundtracked by an intense backing track – tinged with an Eastern European flavour, and sounding like something from a fight scene in an action film.
In the ring, Lewis and Holyfield were already awaiting their successors: the last two men to fight for the undisputed heavyweight titles, welcoming the latest two. A fitting, historical touch.
And then came Fury, with an altogether simpler attire and entrance but one fitting his charismatic character. Wearing a long, green, sleeveless jacket and a backwards cap, the Briton skipped out to the warm, bassy tones of Barry White’s voice on “You Are The First, the Last, my Everything”. What felt a surprising, soulful choice shouldn’t really have been surprising at all. Fury danced his way from the stage to the ramp, when the music morphed into Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding Out For a Hero”. A nod to Shrek 2? Who could say?
Fury looked impossibly calm, given the circumstance and stakes, exuding a completely different aura to the one that would consume him in round nine, when Usyk came astonishingly close to finishing the WBC champion. Fury survived, and that drama turned an already brilliant bout into an instant classic, won by Usyk on points.
And it may, of course, seem strange to have picked the ring walks over the fight itself, when choosing a moment of the year. But the way the atmosphere changed when those lights went out, the way the emotions of all those in attendance were arrested at once, raised goosebumps. Genuinely.
Yet it is important not to overlook the political element of the occasion: there are still natural concerns over Saudi Arabia’s aggressive involvement in boxing. Fights as important and enthralling as this one, and the theatre around them, surely serve the overarching intentions of the Gulf state. One should not highlight the upsides of a rare night like 18 May while ignoring the negatives, which had engendered an uneasy feeling throughout fight week.
For a brief moment, though, as Fury and Usyk emerged for a battle two-and-a-half decades in the making, it was not about boxing’s new kingmakers. It was about two warriors who had given their lives to a sport, inhaling one last time before vying for the ultimate honour.
