SHAKUR STEVENSON WAS fighting for one thing for as long as he can remember. Since his days stomping around the concrete confines of Newark, Recent Jersey as the oldest of nine siblings, Stevenson has chased respectability. Respect from his family. Fans. And most importantly, his peers in the sport of boxing.
About five years ago, boxing anointed Devin Haney, Ryan Garcia, Gervonta “Tank” Davis and Teofimo Lopez Jr. to the “Four Kings” of this era, another installment of the legendary 1980s quartet that included Sugar Ray Leonard, Marvin Hagler, Roberto Duran and Thomas Hearns. These four 1980s fighters were largely responsible for boxing’s mainstream exposure after Muhammad Ali’s retirement in 1981.
Although Stevenson achieved more as an amateur, had a brilliant career that ended with a silver medal at the 2016 Olympics and was an extremely talented ring tactician who had enormous upside, he was not included in the up-to-date quartet.
Stevenson (24-0, 11 KO) could be framed as this generation’s version of Wilfred Benitez, the uncrowned fifth king of the 1970s and 1980s who possessed extraordinary defense and defeated Duran while also fighting Leonard and Hearns. But Stevenson isn’t trying to hear any of this noise. He believes he doesn’t deserve to be on the periphery of boxing royalty – he is the king of boxing. The hunt begins to take the crowns off those before him and stake his claim as the king of this boxing era.
“I felt disrespected at the time,” Stevenson told ESPN as he prepared for Saturday’s fight with Lopez, the WBO junior welterweight champion, at Recent York’s Madison Square Garden. “Even though I wasn’t in the same weight class as them at the time, we were close enough to fight each other. I was doing amazing things and then I felt like I was better than all of them. I still feel that way. But I just used it as motivation.”
Even though it weighed heavily on him, Stevenson persevered, winning world titles in three weight classes and achieving the same, if not greater, achievements in his professional career as his peers. He didn’t lose any rounds, much less came close to losing the fight. Still, despite his accolades and his ranking as the seventh-best weight-for-pound boxer on ESPN, he grew tired of being overlooked and disregarded as one of the next generation’s best fighters.
And despite all his achievements, Stevenson, 28, still fights for respect. Whether it’s fans who call his style “monotonous” or peers who, for one reason or another, don’t want to face him, Stevenson is tired of asking questions and is willing to start talking, even if he has to put himself at a disadvantage in doing so.
“I’m not going to let this bother me anymore,” Stevenson said. “I just keep practicing and training challenging. They had no choice but to accept me. And when I win this fight, they’ll have no choice but to accept me and respect me.”
TRAINED BY HIM grandfather, Wali Moses, Stevenson’s boxing career began when he was barely out of diapers. “He had already learned how to box by preparing with me, so he didn’t start learning at the age of 5; that’s when his boxing career started,” Moses told ESPN.
Stevenson’s exceptional amateur career culminated in 2016, combining elite defense, adaptability and extraordinary boxing acumen as the highest medal-winning American boxer since Andre Ward won gold at the 2004 Olympics. His transition to the professional ranks was seamless, and his record as a three-division champion is widely recognized as the most accomplished boxer.
The only downside to being so far ahead of the competition is that his superior skills suck the drama out of his fights. Without a ton of power, Stevenson had to make decisions in many of his fights, and fans on social media widely criticized his reluctance to take risks to generate excitement.
“He hears everyone say he’s monotonous, too miniature, too defensive and has no power,” Moses said. “He hears everything and I think in [William] Zepeda showed what he was capable of in the fight. Now he’s come here to prove he’s right. He had a terrible start to his career, but these are legacy fights. Everyone will know who he really is.”
While Stevenson may appeal to boxing purists who appreciate his technique in the ring, it won’t be enough to satisfy casual fans who crave violence in the ring.
His Saturday opponent is respected as a consummate showman with a knack for entertaining both in and out of the ring.
“Success is about entertainment,” Lopez told ESPN. Lopez, who calls himself “TakeOver,” has gained immense popularity for his knockouts and post-fight celebrations. Combined with his quirky personality, Lopez is widely considered one of boxing’s most stimulating fighters.
“We’ve seen this in the past when Shakur fought at the Prudential Center in front of his hometown fans and those people left his fights early because of his skill. I think there’s a lot of pressure on him to have a good time, so maybe we’ll see something different from him [against me]. But from what I’ve seen, it’s not very stimulating.
All this has led to an adjective that no warrior wants to apply to himself:
Lifeless.
Stevenson listened to the criticism and adapted. After a flawless victory over Jeremiah Nakathila in June 2021 to capture the interim junior lightweight title, Stevenson was criticized for not taking risks – according to CompuBox, he only landed 304 punches throughout the fight. In his next fight six months later, he put on an offensive display against Jamel Herring, whom Stevenson defeated in 10 rounds.
“I wanted a fun fight: to show my skills, my boxing, my power. I wanted to show everything tonight,” Stevenson said after defeating Herring. “I want to be a superstar in this sport; I’m here to survive.”
STEVENSON TOO changed the way he approaches organizing fights.
After starting his professional career with Top Rank, Stevenson became a free agent. Less than two months later, he signed a promotional contract with Eddie Hearn’s Matchroom Boxing.
“I think now that I’m growing up and understanding the business, the most significant thing is that I can market myself the right way,” Stevenson said. “And that’s something I’m really going to focus on, so I can just be a superstar and not even have to worry about how they want to play these fights. At the negotiating tableI want to have a certain advantage so that I can fight the fights that I really want and no one can stop me.”
Stevenson realized that the only way to create the biggest fights would be to make some concessions. Whether it was accepting less money (Oscar Valdez), accepting the fight as a co-main event (Zepeda), or reducing his value (Lopez), Stevenson realized that a level playing field would not provide him with the opportunities he desired. Instead, he would have to add an element of risk to his fights that didn’t exist before.
In his last appearance in July, Stevenson had an action-packed battle with Zepeda that was an inexplicable co-main event after Hamzah Sheeraz’s fifth-round stoppage of Edgar Berlanga. The reason was that the organizer of the event, Turki Alalshikh, wanted to make a statement that he would not award “Tom and Jerry-style boxing matches in which one fighter runs around the ring and the other chases him.” The usually outspoken Stevenson swallowed his pride and accepted the fight.
“If you call me Jerry, I’ll kick Tom’s ass,” Stevenson told DAZN a few days before the Zepeda fight. “That’s what I came here for, so Tom and Jerry. Jerry will definitely kick Tom’s ass.”
Stevenson’s performance was praised even by his staunch critics. More importantly, it proved that Stevenson should never co-main event again. And while that was in line with Stevenson’s plan, that wasn’t the fight plan his team had outlined.
“I came here to prove myself right,” Stevenson said after his decision win over Zepeda. “It wasn’t the performance I expected because I came here to prove something, I wanted to fight. That’s why I took more punishment than usual. But in the end, I told you all what I had to do to get the job done.”
WHEN MENTOR I Stevenson’s longtime sparring partner, Terence Crawford, moved up two weight classes to eliminate Canelo Alvarez last September and win the undisputed super middleweight championship. Stevenson realized his aspirations could be even greater. Crawford’s ability to go from undisputed 147 pounds to undisputed 168 pounds in just one fight between 154 pounds showed Stevenson that skill could offset size. And if Crawford could do it, why couldn’t he do it too?
“[Crawford beating Canelo] he told me a lot and confirmed what I already thought,” Stevenson said. “These people say size wins fights, but you realize that skill really wins fights. It wasn’t Bud’s size that beat Canelo. It was how good he was at his craft – he understood when to box and when to step on the gas. That showed me that I could do it too, because I know how great I am.”
For the fight with Lopez, Stevenson will compete at 140 pounds, which will be the highest weight of his career. While some may think he bites off more than he can chew, the thought that he can’t do something is more than enough motivation to prove that he can.
“My problem is that if you tell me I can’t do something, I can’t control myself and sometimes I can be talked into doing some stupid things,” Stevenson said. “I’m going to be going to weight classes that I shouldn’t be fighting at all due to my competitive nature and someone giving me crap. I have to show them that no matter what advantage they have, they can’t beat me.”
If he beats Lopez, moving up another weight class to welterweight, where two other “kings” reside, he could be next for Stevenson. Garcia will face WBC welterweight champion Mario Barrios on February 21, and Haney will fight after a one-sided victory over Brian Norman Jr. will win the WBO title last November. As for Davis, legal issues may keep him out of the squared circle for quite some time.
Stevenson said he spent years calling out the biggest names in the sport. Now he is willing to put himself at a disadvantage to prove that he is better than all of them.
“I still want those guys,” Stevenson said. “I’m definitely not a 147-pound fighter, but I know there are guys that I think I can beat at 154. I don’t plan on going down to 147 or 154, but I’m going to do what I have to do in whatever weight class I end up at.
Stevenson no longer asks for respect – he demands it. And if it is not given to him, he will find a way to wrest it from his opponents, because the squared circle is his sanctuary and every fight is another sermon about his greatness.
“The boxing ring is my comfortable place where I do extraordinary things.”
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