The New King of Super Middleweight: A Night of Tears and Records
It seems like in Las Vegas, the house always wins… unless Terence Crawford is in town. Last night, in a performance that would make even the toughest man cry, the skilled American boxer dethroned Saúl “Canelo” Álvarez to be crowned the new absolute monarch of the Super Middleweight. How did you celebrate it? Kneeling and crying as if they had announced that the backstage pizza had pineapple. A spectacle of manly sensitivity.
In front of a record crowd of 70,482 souls – apparently everyone in Vegas had tickets, except your uncle who always says “that Canelo is a log” –, Crawford not only defeated the Mexican idol, but became the first man in history to be undisputed champion in three different divisions. Super Lightweight, Welterweight and now Super Middleweight. One wonders what’s next, reinventing flyweight while making breakfast? The guy has more titles than a Renaissance nobleman.
The Numbers of an Elegant Humiliation
Two judges, with a generosity that borders on the poetic, gave him the victory 115-113. The third, perhaps watching another fight from a parallel reality, scored it 116-112. Meanwhile, Canelo looked around the ring as if looking for the IKEA instructions he lost years ago. It was his first defeat since Dmitry Bivol humbled him in 2022, and his third overall. Because, let’s not forget, Floyd Mayweather Jr. had already taught him how to box in 2013. Did he learn his lesson? Clearly not.
Crawford’s merit is undeniable: he rose two weight classes to face the Mexican giant, as if a domestic cat decided to challenge a jaguar… and won. And he did it before an audience that, in its overwhelming majority, cheered Canelo’s every blow as if it were the last smothered cake on Earth. How romantic.
The Tears of the Victor and the Promises of the Loser
While Crawford cried with emotion – could it be that he missed his natural category? – Canelo dedicated himself to what he does best: promising revenge. “A defeat does not define me,” he declared with the solemnity of a garage philosopher. “I’m here to take risks, I came to life to test myself.” How noble. One almost expects him to announce a self-help course: “How to Lose Elegantly and Get the Same.”
He did not rule out a rematch, because in modern boxing, what is a defeat for if it is not to sell the repetition? “If we do it again, it will be great,” he said. Sure, great for both of your bank accounts. Meanwhile, his legacy – which according to him “is there” – remains as intact as a house of cards in a tornado.
So there you have it: a new champion who cries, an old king who promises to return, and an audience that paid fortunes to see history repeat itself. Boxing, gentlemen, is like a soap opera: there is always a tragic ending, tears and the promise that in the next chapter everything will be different. Spoiler: it rarely is.
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