In the electrifying world of boxing, few phrases are as polarising as “lucky punch.” It’s the ultimate insult to a knockout artist, dismissing their victory as the result of random chance rather than skill, timing, or preparation. But is the lucky punch a real phenomenon? Or is it a convenient excuse, wielded by fans and fighters alike to discredit a defeat or diminish a victory? Let’s explore whether luck truly has a place in a sport built on precision, discipline, and strategy.

There’s something undeniably electric about today’s heavyweight boxing scene. From the towering charisma of Tyson Fury to the explosive power of Deontay Wilder, the gritty resilience of Oleksandr Usyk, and the redemption-seeking spirit of Anthony Joshua—we’re living in an era that feels like it’s on the edge of something legendary. But as these giants contemplate hanging up their gloves, the big question looms: Is this the last golden age of heavyweight boxing?

In the high-stakes world of boxing, we focus so much on the fighter—their grit, power, and discipline—that we often forget about the constellation of people orbiting them: the entourage. An entourage can be many things: a lifeline, a fortress, a support system. But it can also be a source of distraction, indulgence, and ego. The question is: Do entourages truly keep fighters grounded, or are they just a circus of “yes men” who can derail a career as fast as a right hook?

In today’s boxing world, it seems a fighter can’t step into the ring without first running their mouth. Trash talk has become as central to the fight game as the punches themselves—maybe even more so. But here’s the big question: Is this banter building excitement and giving fans a reason to tune in, or is it just cheapening the sport with cheap shots?