Throughout boxing’s long history, the sport has dazzled the world with unforgettable fights and legendary champions. Yet behind the glamour of pay-per-view spectacles lies a troubling reality.
Many of its brightest stars have experienced meteoric rises only to endure equally devastating falls. Mike Tyson, Evander Holyfield, Riddick Bowe, and Tommy Hearns all exemplify this paradox: fighters who made millions, yet ended up financially strained. For every fighter who reached these heights, thousands more struggled in obscurity—working second jobs, taking years of punishment, and retiring with no pensions, no healthcare, and no safety net.
This systemic neglect is the heart of boxing’s welfare crisis. The common denominator across the sport—whether for household names or journeymen—is a lopsided business model where promoters, managers, and sanctioning bodies often walk away with disproportionate shares of the revenue.
The fighter, despite being the centerpiece of the spectacle, is frequently left with scraps. The great exception to this pattern is Floyd Mayweather. By buying out his promotional contract, operating independently, and negotiating on his own terms, Mayweather flipped the script. He retired undefeated, a global superstar, and the only boxer in history to earn over $1 billion. His model inspired fighters to challenge entrenched promoters and opened the door to new power struggles within the sport.
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Today, boxing stands at another crossroads. The battle between promoters, fighters, and now global investors has intensified. The latest flashpoint is the Muhammad Ali American Boxing Revival Act, a new bill introduced in Congress that could radically reshape the sport’s future.
The Muhammad Ali Act and Its Revival
The original Muhammad Ali Boxing Reform Act, passed in 2000, was a landmark piece of legislation. It sought to rein in exploitative promoters, mandate financial disclosures, and provide fighters with more leverage in negotiations.
By ensuring that sanctioning bodies-maintained independence from promoters, the law was intended to stop monopolistic practices and allow boxers to maximise their earnings.
But the new Revival Act, introduced in 2025 by Representatives Brian Jack and Sharice Davids, proposes a dramatic shift. Backed by TKO Holdings Group—the parent company of the UFC and WWE—and heavily funded by Saudi Arabia’s Public Investment Fund, the legislation would allow new “Unified Boxing Organizations” (UBOs) to emerge outside the scope of existing sanctioning bodies like the WBC and WBO.
Supporters argue this will bring modernization, transparency, and better pay. Critics, however, see it as a Trojan horse. Erik Magraken, a combat sports regulatory lawyer, warns that the bill guts the protections of the Ali Act by allowing promoters to control rankings and titles, giving them a stranglehold over the sport.
The Rise of Zuffa Boxing
At the center of this transformation is Zuffa Boxing, the new venture spearheaded by Ari Emanuel’s TKO and Saudi Arabia’s Turki al-Sheikh. Launching with a blockbuster bout between Canelo Álvarez and Terence Crawford, Zuffa promises to bring the UFC model to boxing: fewer sanctioning bodies, streamlined rankings, and “the best fighting the best.”
Dana White, long-time UFC president, has been tapped to lead the operation. White has already hinted at a simplified model where fighters climb a single ranking ladder, bypassing the alphabet soup of existing titles. Yet while fans may welcome fewer politics and more clarity, the UFC’s track record tells another story: fighter exploitation.
Despite generating billions in revenue, UFC athletes earn roughly 15–18% of league income, far below the 50% revenue share enjoyed by NFL or NBA players. Many fighters make as little as $10,000 to $20,000 per fight—barely enough to cover expenses.
Attempts to unionize have been crushed, and the UFC recently settled a $375 million antitrust case over alleged monopolistic practices. If the UFC’s economic model is imported into boxing, fighters could lose the one advantage they have traditionally enjoyed over MMA athletes: the ability to leverage promoters against each other for bigger paydays.
Saudi Arabia’s Influence
Saudi Arabia’s role in this transformation cannot be overstated. Through Turki al-Sheikh and the Public Investment Fund, the kingdom has poured billions into hosting mega-fights and reshaping boxing’s ecosystem. High-profile events like Tyson Fury vs. Oleksandr Usyk have already reoriented the heavyweight division around Riyadh. With Zuffa Boxing, Saudi now aims not just to host fights, but to control the structure of the sport itself.
Al-Sheikh’s influence is vast. He bankrolls events, owns a major boxing magazine, and deploys extensive PR campaigns to frame narratives in his favor. His financial muscle has resolved promotional stalemates, delivering matchups fans crave. Yet his growing monopoly raises difficult questions: Can a sport retain its integrity when a single state-backed entity controls its rankings, belts, and fighters?
Boxing’s Uncertain Future
The Muhammad Ali American Boxing Revival Act is framed as modernization. In reality, it risks consolidating power in the hands of a few promoters and investors, leaving fighters more vulnerable than ever. While the proposed bill includes safety provisions like mandatory medical exams and expanded health insurance, these protections may come at the cost of freedom, bargaining power, and long-term sustainability for fighters.
Boxing is once again at a pivotal juncture. The same structural flaws that left fighters of the past bankrupt and unprotected remain unsolved. Without genuine reforms that prioritize fighters’ welfare, the sport risks exchanging one form of exploitation for another.
If history teaches anything, it is that boxing always reinvents itself. The question is whether this new era—driven by corporate consolidation and state-backed investment—will empower fighters or exploit them further. The sweet science deserves a future where the boxers themselves, not the promoters or powerbrokers, finally stand at the center of the ring.
Meanwhile, I spoke to some key stakeholders of the sport to solicit their opinions on the poor welfare of fighters and what the Muhammad Ali American Boxing Revival Act seek to achieve:
Bob Santos (Trainer)
In boxing, as in life, everything comes down to decision-making. Some fighters retire wealthy, while others end up broke. Why? Because of the choices they made. Look at Robert Guerrero – he’s still a multi-millionaire today because he made smart financial and career decisions. On the other hand, some fighters grow up in poverty, never learn how to manage money, and end up in trouble.
When you sign a contract, it’s on you and your team to review it carefully. People like to say, ‘Oh, the promoter took advantage of the fighter.’ Well, sometimes it’s the opposite – the fighter gets overpaid without selling tickets, and in that case, it’s the promoter who loses. It’s always a two-way street.
There’s no one-size-fits-all in boxing. Many promoters also lose millions. Nobody talks about Steve Wynn, a billionaire casino owner, who came into boxing, spent heavily, and lost it all. Everyone feels sorry for the fighter, but at the end of the day, fighters are grown men. Just like promoters and managers, they have to take responsibility for their choices.
The best advice I give fighters is simple: live within your means and make smart decisions. You can make a hundred good choices and ruin it all with one bad one. That applies to everyone – a doctor, an accountant, a plumber, or a professional athlete. If you make reckless investments, like putting your life savings in the stock market without knowledge, you’ll lose it.The same goes for fighters.
Another problem is the people fighters surround themselves with. Family and friends see the money, expect to be taken care of, and drain resources. Then when the money’s gone, those same people disappear. I’ve seen fighters get paid millions only to be left broke.
For me, the foundation is faith. I’m a Christian, and I believe if fighters put God first, live by biblical principles, and pray on their decisions, they’ll avoid many pitfalls. But if they chase material things – the latest cars, jewelry, or lifestyles – they’ll find trouble. Many young fighters get big money fast and have no idea how to handle it.
Fighters also need to choose their teams wisely. Too often, they put their trust in coaches or managers with no experience or proven track record. That’s the number one mistake. Why would you trust someone to build your house if they’ve never built one before? Do your research.
Talk to fighters who’ve worked with that coach or manager. If they tell you he helped them become champions or millionaires, that’s proof. But if you ignore the evidence and stick with someone unqualified, the blame is on you.
When it comes to contracts, always work through the commission – whether in Nevada, California, or elsewhere – because there are rules in place to protect both sides. If you don’t even take that basic step, it doesn’t matter if you earn $1 million or $100 million – you’ll still lose it through bad decisions.
Boxing commissions already play a role in regulating contracts, but again, it always comes back to the fighter’s decisions. If you trust the wrong people, overspend, or think the grass is greener elsewhere, you’ll pay the price. I’ve seen fighters leave me chasing promises and end up broke. Others, like Guerrero, listened, stayed disciplined, and remain wealthy today.
At the end of the day, boxing life is about making the right choices. Surround yourself with the right people, live within your means, and take responsibility. If you do that, you give yourself a chance to succeed in and out of the ring.
Tris Dixon (Boxing Journalist)
This is a hugely important issue that deserves serious attention. The most obvious idea is to set aside something like a 5% levy into a welfare fund, but that raises questions of fairness. It’s not right for lower-level fighters who earn very little, and it’s equally unreasonable for the top earners to shoulder all the responsibility. Still, something has to be done, and a central body needs to be established with fighter welfare at the heart of its mission.
I believe the sport would benefit from a unified database containing brain scans, bloodwork, and medical histories of fighters, along with licensing details for managers and trainers, all accessible to regulators. Leading commissions such as those in the UK, Nevada, California, and New York could set the standard, creating a model that others would follow. The real challenge is money. The resources exist at the top, but only if those who control it are willing to share. Networks like Sky Sports and ESPN are uncertain about their boxing futures, while streaming platforms seem more focused on viral content than the long-term health of the sport.
The solution starts with gathering the right people – those with the vision and commitment to put boxing’s best interests first. Another point is that fighters often fail to use social media effectively. While influencers and YouTubers are sometimes criticised, they’ve shown what can be achieved. Young fighters have the same platforms at their disposal to grow their brands and strengthen their negotiating positions. Fans, meanwhile, face their own struggles.
Boxing is one of the few sports that continuously asks supporters to pay for streaming subscriptions and pay-per-view on top. Attending a big fight with family can cost hundreds, even thousands, of dollars, and with main events often starting around 11 p.m., older fans and families with kids are pushed away.
There are also untapped revenue streams in the sport – from fight-night merchandise to nutrition, training equipment, and apparel. These areas are underdeveloped but could provide long-term benefits to both fighters and the industry. Ultimately, boxing needs creative solutions, cooperation at the highest levels, and new ways to share its wealth more fairly.
Jason Langendorf (Boxing Journalist)
I think it’s a positive and long-overdue idea. The challenge, though, is in execution. Boxing involves so many stakeholders with competing agendas, and while many genuinely care about the fighters, aligning those interests is extremely difficult. In theory, there are many ways to make it work, but in practice, it will be complicated. Boxing is a worldwide sport with countless fighters at every level.
Creating a unified welfare system would be as complex as forming something like NATO – so many competing interests, cultures, and expectations. If you narrowed the scope to just the U.S. and involved the right stakeholders, it might be possible, but I don’t see it happening without something resembling a league model. The UFC in MMA, for instance, has created a structure – even though I disagree with many of Dana White’s practices – that at least offers lessons boxing could learn from.
One idea is a small fee – a sort of contribution from each fight – that goes into a fighters’ welfare fund. But the board that manages it must be independent, not tied to sanctioning bodies or promoters. The difficulty is that boxing is a small world with a lot of self-interest. Even those with good intentions often have to work with people who don’t – but who are the only ones capable of moving things forward.
The reality is that only a handful of fights generate life-changing money. Will stars like Canelo Álvarez, Gervonta Davis, Tyson Fury, or Anthony Joshua really agree to part with a large portion of their earnings? It’s similar to college athletics: in the U.S., football and men’s basketball generate most of the revenue that supports other sports. Some call it unfair, but that’s the system. In boxing, the top earners may resist contributing, even though they benefitted from the system on their way up.
Think of it like paying taxes – you contribute to maintain roads, law enforcement, and other infrastructure. In the same way, fighters who benefit from boxing’s system should contribute back. Yes, they worked hard and made smart choices, but luck and opportunity also played a role. This would be the cost of doing business. And remember: today’s star could be tomorrow’s fighter in need. A welfare fund would act as an insurance policy – a social safety net. Some will resist the idea, but to me, it’s just smart business, especially in a sport as dangerous and unforgiving as boxing.
If you call yourself a sanctioning body, and you collect sanctioning fees, then you have a responsibility to protect fighters. It’s no different than the NFL being held accountable for concussions and CTE.
At least in boxing, the violence is the objective – you’re literally trying to knock your opponent unconscious. That makes the obligation to safeguard fighters even greater. Do sanctioning bodies do enough now? No. Could they do more? Absolutely.
Comprehensive drug testing, regular health screening – those things are expensive, but necessary. Fighters need consistent medical oversight, and that requires real funding. Without it, the sport is failing its athletes.
Meanwhile, watch the latest edition of Sports Check with Joel Eshun in the post below