“They left the Qudos Bank Arena in Sydney, Australia, changed men, versions of themselves that, if not quite recognizable before the opening bell, were undeniable in the aftermath. Junior middleweights Tim Tszyu and Tony Harrison shared a common goal, pursued the same target, but were doing so on widely divergent paths. That divergence, too, was revealed ex post facto. Those distinct trajectories intersected for nine rounds, about as many as Tszyu had predicted, as many as Harrison is likely to manage when the night belongs to the man across the ring from him.”

Read In the Name of the Father: Tim Tszyu Overpowers Tony Harrison on Hannibal Boxing.



‘“Let’s go at it like this,” he says, “I didn’t have a hard life.” And with that, Carson Jones sets himself apart from so many of his peers, young men who saw the ring as an escape route, harrowing though it may be. “You know, I was adopted but adopted into a good family. If anything, I was spoiled. You know, most people say, ‘Oh, I was hard because I had a hard life’⁠—I had an easy life, like, I was spoiled.” Jones is speaking on his preternatural toughness, one of his signature traits, and given his inauspicious start in an unforgiving sport, a crucial component of his success. And he is speaking about it honestly. Like his toughness, honesty—blunt and unsparing—defines the Oklahoma City fighter. This much is clear about Jones: he neither denies nor fears the was, is, and will be; the explanation for why is complex as it is compelling.’

Read One Life or the Other: The Return of Carson Jones on Hannibal Boxing.


“It was a nice fight for the public, I did what I could, and that was the result.” Such was Roman Gonzalez’s response to a question about the outcome of his third fight with Juan Francisco Estrada. A question loaded and predictable and handled flawlessly. That is where the griping about scorecards ends—with Gonzalez. For the second time in three tries, Estrada hung a loss on him, winning a majority decision before a boisterous and boisterously supportive crowd at the Gila River Arena in Glendale, Arizona, this weekend. All three fights (as if they could be anything but) were fought at a level rarely achieved; thus, what separates the fighters in the eyes of the judges matters less than what unites them. Estrada–Gonzalez (or, if you prefer, Gonzalez–Estrada) is the defining trilogy of this era for its excellence, of course, but also its generosity: for even without it, both Estrada and Gonzalez have careers that make a mockery of many of their contemporaries.

Read What Separates and Unites: On Juan Francisco Estrada-Roman Gonzalez III on Hannibal Boxing.