Let’s just break it apart from the mountain: Canelo, Haney and Garcia milking Boxing fans are parched and it’s time for someone to call this circus.

Canelo dragged his act to Saudi Arabia to fight before what? A sea of ​​empty seats and bored oil princes scrolling their phones. Not singing or roar, even a drunk boy in a crowd shouting abuse – just dead air and zombie VIP. Canelo should break his head in Vegas or pack the stadium in Mexico, where people actually care. Instead, we received this overstated Snoosest in the desert full of people who could not replace the blow if they hit them in the face.

Then there is Times Square – where the fans were practically It is hostile Watching Devin Haney Shadowbox for twelve rounds, while Ryan Garcia – king of boxing selfie – hovered around throwing blows, as if he tried not to break his nail. And let’s not forget that Dad Devina Haney off the beaten track, losing his mind, behaving, as if his son was making a boxing masterpiece, smiling and barking, as if he were the godfather of some technical revolution, while the fans were at a distance of one of the nap group.

And William Scull? What for a joke. He spent twelve rounds Launching As if he were in a charity, not a fight for the title of world champion. Without fire, without sand, without intention to make it a war. He just appeared to survive, catch a check and intact teeth. It was not a pretender – it was a moving bulky bag with a passport. Embarrassing.

I will tell you straight – I would take it Drunk, mug, Eddie Hearn-Insult, chaos soaked in beer of a real boxing crowd Above the dead Saudi VIP naps every day of the week.

Give me a lot – the guys shouting for nonsense, they run away in the transitions over who is rushing, who spills the drinks after the seats, shouting “F— DAZN!” AND “Oi Eddie, you ruin this sport!” As long as security moves your arms and allows it to be reproduced. This is boxing. This is a heartbeat.

Yes, last week I left the atmosphere of Tottenham-all Coked-up Wannabe Stone Island Warriors Shadowboxing in the hall, thinking that they are one of the winnings for the filmmakers of the ring. But you know what? I was wrong. I would take Tottenham every day on Saudi Arabia – Just save me barefoot prostitutes, which after the fighting after the fighting. At least he lives inside.

I will take ten pissed hooligans swaying in beer than in the first time Saudi full of influential, too busy transmission of their sushi plates to see that someone hits the face. This crowd of Vegas during the Inoue war? This is how sport was supposed to feel – violent, messy, alive.

Boxing was never to be pure or silent – it was supposed to be a storm. This night Vegas showed how dead these oil cards are.

Enter Naoye Inoue: Save the damn soul of boxing and pulling it out of a coma

Inoue (30-0, 27 KO) not only appeared to win, he came wage war. Yes, he was broken and dropped in the second round of Cardenas (26-2, 14 Kos)-and you know what he did? He smiled, vacuumed and turned the ring in the battlefield.

In the fifth and sixth rounds he was destruction Cardenas with wicked meters, chopping the body, dividing the guard like a surgeon. Seventh round? Cardenas left, swaying, desperately turned the script – Inoue calmly blew him up with his right hand and folded it like a chair. Round eighth? Only the finish – immaculate, cool violence, until the judge had to pull out Cardenas.

Inoue summarized it beautifully: “I like a fight … I kept peaceful and joined.” This is a real warrior-not influential fluff, without tap dance, without running.

Undercard:

• Rafael espinosis He examined Edward Vazquez in seven, all gases, without brakes.

• Rohan Polanco Fabian Maidan dominated, even dropping him overdue on additional punctuation.

• Emiliano Vargas He went out through Juan Leon in two rounds – Savage.

• Mikito was drunk He crashed Pedro Marquez five times before the judge pulled the plug.

• Art Barrera Jr. Chopped Juan Carlos Guerra Jr. with brutal precision.

• Raeese aleem I lived in Rudy Garcia in ten effortless rounds.

Vegas roared like a real city of struggle. Saudi? You could hear a decrease in the pin between yawning.

This is the question: why, to the hell, we still pretend that channel channels, Haney’s master class, Garcia influential parades, and Saudi crowds are the future of boxing-when Inoue just marched to Vegas and gave us blood, chaos and violence on which this sport was built? Wake up. This is what a real fight looks like.