By Billie Sloane

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?

It’s the ultimate question of who holds the power in boxing, and if you think there’s an easy answer, you’ve already lost the plot. Because the truth is, each piece of this puzzle holds a certain level of control, and without one, the entire sport collapses like a house of cards.

The Fighters: The Blood, Sweat, and Sacrifice

First, let’s talk about the fighters—the warriors who step into that ring, knowing that one wrong move could end their career, or worse, their lives. Without them, there’s no sport, no drama, no reason to tune in. But let’s be honest, how much control do they really have over their own destinies?

For every Anthony Joshua who’s managed to carve out his own empire, there are a dozen fighters stuck in lousy contracts, fighting on cards where they’re just another name on the bill. You’ve got young prospects who think they’re calling the shots, only to realize that, at the end of the day, they’re just pawns in someone else’s game.

Yes, fighters are the ones risking it all, but ask yourself: How many of them truly control their careers? How many fighters get to dictate who they fight, when they fight, and for how much? And when they do stand up and try to take control, do we support them, or do we call them "divas" and "prima donnas"?

Tyson Fury once said in an IFL TV interview, “This sport is full of sharks. If you don’t know how to swim, you’ll get eaten alive.” And that’s the reality. Fighters may be the heart and soul of boxing, but too often, they’re just another piece in someone else’s power play.

The Promoters: The Puppet Masters or Just Another Piece?

Ah, the promoters. They love to present themselves as the architects of boxing, the ones building stars, creating events, and driving the sport forward. And to an extent, they’re right. They negotiate the deals, set the dates, and get the fighters into those big arenas under the bright lights. But here’s the twist: while they might seem like the ones pulling the strings, they’re also dancing to someone else’s tune.

Promoters will tell you they’re shaping the sport, and sure, they’ve got the clout, the connections, and the cash. But ask yourself—when was the last time a promoter genuinely took a risk for the good of boxing, not just for their bottom line?

Too many times, promoters are more interested in “protecting” their fighters, preserving that all-important unbeaten record, than putting on the fights we actually want to see. And why? Because they know that as long as they can sell a promise, they’ll keep us hooked. But are they really in control, or are they just middlemen, playing both sides to keep themselves at the top of the food chain?

As Eddie Hearn once admitted on IFL TV, “It’s a business. At the end of the day, you’ve got to make sure everyone’s getting paid.” And that’s the kicker, isn’t it? Promoters aren’t in this for the love of the sport—they’re in it for the money. So who’s really controlling who here?

The Broadcasters: The Real Power Brokers?

Here’s where it gets interesting. In today’s world, boxing lives and dies by the broadcaster. Sky Sports, DAZN, ESPN—these are the platforms that decide whether a fight reaches millions or just a handful. They’re the ones who turn an event into a spectacle, who decide which fighters get the exposure, and which ones fade into obscurity.

Broadcasters have the money, the reach, and the ability to make or break a fighter’s career with the flick of a switch. Think about it—without TV deals, pay-per-view buys, and streaming subscriptions, boxing doesn’t exist in the way we know it. They’re the silent powerhouses, dictating terms, setting the agenda, and ultimately controlling what we see.

But do they really care about the sport, or just the bottom line? When was the last time a broadcaster pushed for a fight because it was the best match-up, not because it was the most lucrative? And when they start dictating who gets airtime, who gets the hype, aren’t they just as guilty of playing the game as the promoters?

Bob Arum put it bluntly on IFL TV: “Boxing is about making money. Always has been, always will be.” And if you think broadcasters aren’t in on that game, you’re living in a fantasy.

The Fans: The Wallets that Keep It All Going

And finally, we come to the fans. The so-called “lifeblood” of boxing, the ones who buy the tickets, pay for the pay-per-views, and create the noise that makes the sport feel alive. We like to think we have power—that if we demand the big fights, the industry has no choice but to deliver. But let’s be honest, how much control do we really have?

How many times have we begged for the fights we want, only to be served up another mismatch, another hype job, another easy payday? How often do we buy into the narrative, the spin, the endless cycle of hype that keeps us reaching for our wallets?

Are we really the ones in control, or are we just sheep being herded toward the next big pay-per-view, the next “must-see” event, the next overhyped superstar? And if we all decided to walk away tomorrow, would boxing even survive?

Are All Four Players Really in Control?

Here’s the thing: boxing is a finely tuned machine, and every piece of it—the fighters, the promoters, the broadcasters, and the fans—plays a critical role. But if even one part stops working, can the whole show go on? Can boxing survive if one wheel grinds to a halt? Each player may act like they have all the power, but the truth is, they’re interdependent. Without one, can you really have the others?

Take the fighters, for example. Without their blood, sweat, and sacrifice, there is no product to sell. But what good is their grit without promoters to hype the fights, broadcasters to beam them to millions, and fans willing to spend their hard-earned cash? Fighters may be the heart of the sport, but without a platform and a crowd, their efforts fall into the void.

Promoters, on the other hand, like to think they call the shots. They negotiate deals, set dates, and make events happen. But without broadcasters willing to pay for the rights and without fighters willing to put their bodies on the line, they’re just empty-handed dealmakers. If a fighter suddenly refuses to take the fight they’ve booked, or if a network pulls out, how much power do promoters really have?

Broadcasters are just as vulnerable. Sure, they control the narrative, dictate airtime, and decide which fighters get the spotlight. But what happens if the fighters and promoters won’t play ball? A prime-time slot means nothing if the biggest names aren’t in the ring, and a loyal viewing audience only sticks around for as long as the product stays exciting. Even with all their reach and influence, broadcasters can’t sell what doesn’t exist.

And finally, the fans—the so-called lifeblood of the sport. Without their wallets, there are no ticket sales, no pay-per-view buys, no booming atmospheres that make boxing magical. But fans have little say in the actual decision-making. They’ve been clamoring for certain fights for years—only to be ignored, misled, and sold mismatches instead. Yet, despite all the grumbling, we still tune in, buy the fights, and cheer from the stands. So, who’s really holding the power here?

What Happens When One Wheel Stops?

The big question is, can the machine keep turning if even one part breaks down? What if fighters decided to stand their ground—refusing to fight under unfair contracts or demanding better pay? What if a promoter’s empire crumbled under the weight of a scandal? What if a broadcaster pulled the plug, leaving a major fight with no platform? What if the fans finally stopped paying, boycotting the endless hype and sub-par matchups?

In truth, the system is fragile. One protest, one missing wheel, and the whole engine stalls. No single entity has enough control to keep the sport running on its own. If the fighters walk away, the promoters and broadcasters are left with nothing to sell. If promoters don’t do their job, the fighters become unknowns. If broadcasters bail, the fights become invisible. And without the fans—well, without the fans, it’s all just noise in an empty room.

The Illusion of Control

The uncomfortable reality is that each player in this game likes to think they’re holding the reins, but none of them can go it alone. It’s a delicate web of power, where each piece depends on the others to function. The promoters need fighters and networks. The networks need fighters and viewers. The fighters need promoters, networks, and fans. And the fans? They need everyone else to deliver.

So, can any one of them really be in control? Or are they all just playing their part in a game where no one truly holds the power? If one piece stops working, can the others carry the load, or does the entire show grind to a halt? That’s the real question. And as long as every piece of the puzzle believes they’re the most important, the fight for control will continue.

Next time you watch a fight, ask yourself this: Who really makes this happen? And if one player decided to stop, could the others keep going? Or would the whole machine come crashing down?