In the wake of a proposed clash between Shakur Stevenson and Devin Haney falling through, Tim Bradley believes one man, who he describes as the “biggest duck in boxing”, is solely responsible.

The two pound-for-pound stars were in talks to collide later this year, with November 28 and Atlanta having been suggested as the potential date and location, respectively.

According to Stevenson, however, negotiations reached an impasse at the “11th hour” due to Haney’s lawyer demanding that they fight at 147lbs.

This, if accurate, would have meant a refusal to meet at 145lbs, which both sides had seemingly decided was a sensible catchweight for their showdown.

But while Stevenson claims he was willing to jump up from 140lbs, the slick southpaw has accused Haney of going back on his promise to drop down from welterweight.

As a result, Hall of Famer Bradley has said on his YouTube channel that, in his mind, Devin and his father and trainer, Bill Haney, are to blame for the fight not happening.

“I’m gonna name you ‘Deebo Dev’ – the biggest duck in boxing. And all y’all thought it was Shakur Stevenson [avoiding Haney] all along.

“Bill [Haney]how you gonna get out of this one? What happened – you got cold feet? This man [Stevenson] gave up the weight; this man gave up some money.

“You got your lawyer involved. You said you wanted this fight – you agreed to 145[lbs] and all. Come on now – Shakur agreed to it as well. And now we can’t get the fight because you wanted it at 147[lbs]. Is that true, Bill?”

While Stevenson comes off a unanimous decision victory over Teofimo Lopez in January, Haney has not fought since dethroning Brian Norman Jr last November.

With 41 knockouts between them from 43 victories, few expect the contest to go the distance.

Wardley, sporting Ipswich Town’s newly-launched third kit with his name printed on the sleeve, was still bearing the scars of his punishing defeat in Manchester five months ago.

A cut across the bridge of his nose, first sustained during his 2024 draw with Frazer Clarke, reopened against Dubois and left his face badly swollen and bloodied.

The punishment he absorbed has raised questions over whether his decision to take an immediate rematch has come too soon but Wardley remains confident he can reverse the result.

“It’s simply seek and destroy now,” he said.

Promoter Frank Warren is predicting a “blockbuster” 2027 for the heavyweight division, with lucrative fights awaiting Saturday’s winner.

Tyson Fury and Anthony Joshua will finally meet in Cardiff on 11 December, while British prospect Itauma is set to return in January following his world-title defeat by Hrgovic.

Warren confirmed there is no clause for a third fight between Dubois and Wardley but the Queensberry Promotions boss refused to rule out a trilogy if the Ipswich fighter avenges the only defeat on his record.

“If that happens it’s a natural fight,” Warren said. “That’s what’s so intriguing about this. Who will they fight next year? We want to find out who is the best.”

An unbeaten record can hide years of careful matchmaking, and Bruce Trampler’s post on X offers a tougher standard for judging fighters: look at who they fought and who they beat.

Trampler pointed out that legendary figures paid little attention to their numeric tallies. Icons like Marvin Hagler, Alexis Arguello, Roberto Duran, George Foreman, and Carlos Monzon rarely kept track of their exact records. Sugar Ray Robinson could not recall his own numbers when asked. Fight posters historically omitted win-loss counts entirely because credibility depended solely on the caliber of opposition overcome in the ring.

The business model has shifted entirely from sport to asset preservation. Promoters no longer build fighters to see how good they are; they build assets to cash out once.

The root of the issue is that boxing operates on an illusion economy. Promoters can feed a prospect twenty consecutive taxi drivers, wrap an obscure alphabet strap around his waist, and use production tricks and social media hype to sell a fabricated product to a network or an investor. It turns the ring into a showroom rather than a crucible. When every fight is priced with minus eight hundred betting odds, the outcome is decided in the boardroom weeks before the opening bell.

What makes it so corrosive is that it trains both the fighters and the public to treat a single loss like career death. In the era Trampler was talking about, a loss was just part of a fighter’s education. Duran lost to De Jesus and came back to rule the division. Ali lost to Frazier and Norton. Leonard lost to Duran. Nobody questioned their greatness because they immediately sought out the hardest rematch they could find. Today, a fighter gets clipped once, the promoter panics, the network pulls back, and the fighter spends the next three years rebuilding against handpicked sparring partners.

The only time these promoters break the pattern is when an outside entity drops an absurd sum of money to force their hand. When that happens, the risk suddenly makes financial sense, because a single night covers the lifetime value of guarding the zero. Otherwise, the default setting is caution, soft touches, and manufactured hype.

The interesting part is that the fans eventually catch on. You can only sell mismatches on pay-per-view so many times before the audience stops buying, ratings drop, and casual viewers drift elsewhere. Guarding the record protects a fighter’s short-term purse, but it starves the sport of the classic, contested fights that build true longevity.

Floyd Mayweather Jr. revolutionized the commercial value of the pristine record. While Mayweather defeated genuine elite champions, his financial blueprint convinced the next generation that an unblemished slate was the ultimate marketing lever. Competitors quickly learned to manage risks tightly to protect marketability.

Shakur Stevenson and Gervonta “Tank” Davis invite that criticism. Both possess considerable talent, but their opponent choices leave room to question whether proving themselves against the strongest available competition consistently comes first.

A brave fighter falling short against the best takes far greater professional risks than a peer coasting past overmatched opponents. Treating one defeat as career ruin only feeds hesitation.