When we think of boxing, our minds are filled with images of sweat, grit, and glory. We see fighters in the ring, battling it out, driven by ambition and the desire to claim titles. But while we applaud the spectacle, there’s a side of the sport that remains hidden from the spotlight. Behind every punch thrown, every bruise, and every training camp lies a network of loved ones who feel the pain and bear the weight of their fighter’s journey. The question is: How much does a career in boxing cost the families who are left waiting, watching, and worrying?

Women’s boxing has been on a relentless journey, from near invisibility to a global force in combat sports. Today, with trailblazers like Katie Taylor, Claressa Shields, Natasha Jonas, and Chantelle Cameron leading the charge, the sport is gaining recognition, headlines, and fan excitement. But the question remains: Is women’s boxing truly getting the respect it deserves, or are female fighters still fighting for relevance in a sport long dominated by men?

In the heart of countless towns and cities across the UK, amateur boxing gyms provide more than just a place to train—they act as pillars of support, discipline, and community. With more than 1,500 amateur boxing clubs scattered throughout the UK, these gyms offer spaces where young people can learn discipline, respect, and resilience. Yet, despite the enormous value they bring, these gyms often struggle to stay afloat, and Chris Webb MP recently raised the issue in the House of Commons, calling for greater government support. 

Let’s face it, boxing purists are having a hard time swallowing the rise of influencer boxing. It's the elephant in the room, the big-money spectacle that's dragged the sport into a whole new world. You’ve got YouTubers and TikTokers stepping through the ropes, making more cash in one night than some pros make in a career. The question is, are these influencers bringing new life to the sport, or are they turning boxing into a circus?

Let’s cut the noise for a minute. In today’s boxing world, everyone’s shouting about “building stars.” Promoters love to parade around, telling us they’ve got the next pay-per-view king, the new 'face of boxing,' or the second coming of Ali. But here’s the real question: how many of these promoters are actually building legends? And how many are just packaging fighters in bubble wrap, feeding them soft touches, and selling hype like it’s gold dust?

In combat sports, the real fight often starts long before the athletes step into the ring or octagon. Before the first punch is thrown, many fighters engage in a dangerous game of brinkmanship, pushing their bodies to extreme limits just to hit a weight they won’t maintain for more than a few hours. Weight cuts—widely accepted as part of the sport—are an unrelenting, physically punishing process involving strict diets, dehydration, and hours spent sweating in saunas and baths. But are these practices necessary for fair competition, or is the tradition one that puts fighters in unnecessary danger?

Let’s talk about the fighters who rarely make headlines—the ones who step through the ropes knowing they’re likely leaving with another “L” on their record. Journeymen (and journeywomen) are the backbone of the sport, the ones brought in to test young prospects, provide experience, and keep the wheels turning. They’re the fighters with more losses than wins but more heart than most. The question is—are we celebrating their role, or are they being exploited to prop up boxing’s next star?

In combat sports, greatness isn’t always achieved inside the ring—sometimes, it’s carved out in the spaces between the punches. Fighters like Muhammad Ali, Tyson Fury, and others have become icons not only for their skills but for how they’ve dared to break the rules, challenge norms, and speak their minds, no matter the cost. The world demands more than just performances inside the ropes—fighters today are expected to entertain, agitate, or inspire from the outside too. But what happens when rebellion turns into revolution? And what role do these troublemakers play in keeping the sport alive?

Let’s not beat around the bush—boxing is a game of power, money, and influence. But the question is, who really pulls the strings in this beautiful, brutal circus? Is it the fighters who bleed and sweat for their shot at glory? The promoters who play puppet master, dangling promises of riches and fame? The broadcasters who turn bouts into blockbuster events? Or is it us—the fans—whose wallets keep this whole show on the road?

There’s an old saying that success has a thousand fathers, but failure is an orphan. In the case of Anthony Joshua, it seems many have forgotten the countless times he lifted British boxing to new heights, the moments when his triumphs were our triumphs, when his battles became national events, uniting millions. Yet today, after a handful of defeats, whispers of doubt and disrespect creep in from those who once cheered his name. It's time we remember why Anthony Joshua deserves our respect—why, despite the recent setbacks, the man known simply as "AJ" is a legend in his own right.