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It was when the Saudi Arabian national anthem was being sung in the minutes before Daniel Dubois-Anthony Joshua that BoxingScene questioned how the General Entertainment Authority would respond to the boos they almost certainly would have heard.
BoxingScene was present at Wembley Stadium, for what will inevitably be remembered as one of the most dramatic and entertaining fights of 2024. But only after having paid for a ticket, as a consequence of not being accredited for continuing to attempt to deliver the nature of balanced and responsible journalism increasingly demanded by the ills of the sport.
It was on Monday afternoon that BoxingScene was informed, via a telephone call, by those working on behalf of the GEA – chaired by none other than the divisive Turki Alalshikh – that other publications were being prioritized because of their previous commitment to covering the increasingly incessantly referenced “Riyadh Season” events. They were immediately reminded that this writer was in Riyadh for Tyson Fury-Oleksandr Usyk – a fight to surpass even Dubois-Joshua – and that two colleagues were present in Los Angeles for Israil Madrimov-Terence Crawford in August, which the GEA also oversaw.
The response then came that those other publications had been more “positive” in their coverage. Which given the countless cucks (that isn’t a typo) that populate the sport didn’t come as a surprise. When any individual – post-fight Joshua himself can potentially attest – or organization is repeatedly fed the most positive and flattering of statements, regardless of the agenda driving them, they can come to view balance as particularly inconvenient, or even harsh and unfair.
Which ultimately is what prompted the previously mentioned question surrounding the boos aimed at the Saudi Arabian national anthem. It’s difficult not to conclude that it is perceived criticism of the GEA and the individual repeatedly known as “His Excellency” that’s punished by censorship. Admirable journalism on the wider picture of sportswashing also led to a journalist at another respected publication not being accredited. Another, which made puns around Alalshikh’s name, was also threatened with the same fate. If their contributions, and those of BoxingScene, hit a nerve, then it is difficult not to wonder how much more seriously the disrespectful booing was being taken; also prompted were similar questions about some of the boos directed at Alalshikh when he appeared on Wembley’s big screens.
Alalshihk is the same individual, and of the same organization, who so recently objected to Saul Alvarez’s refusal to submit to his demands. The equally independent Tim Tszyu is among those who knows how Alvarez may have felt. At the conclusion of a week in which Alalshikh was being told – not unlike how a parent might address a spoiled child on the eve of their birthday party – to wait until he hears the Wembley crowd singing Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline, as though that instead of the prospect of a heavyweight shootout was so much of the appeal, there seemed a risk that anything not equating to submissive, all-out admiration would be treated with contempt.
It was later on Monday evening that BoxingScene, via Ticketmaster, saw that there were still countless tickets available for Dubois-Joshua. Another check on Wednesday morning confirmed that the picture was the same. When on Thursday evening Alalshikh posted on social media that the fight had sold out, a further check showed that there were no longer tickets available via the official supplier. Which on Saturday evening at Wembley seemed increasingly strange, because there were numerous empty seats – so many that the boasts of an anticipated attendance of 96,000 seemed premature. A figure somewhere between 85,000 and 90,000 – less than the reported record of 94,000 claimed by Tyson Fury-Dillian Whyte in 2022 – appeared more accurate. When later on Saturday evening Alalshikh then posted that there were 98,128 present that seemed even harder to understand. How had 2,128 people beyond the 96,000 tickets they claimed to have sold made it into the stadium? Where were so many people hiding for there to still be so many empty seats?
The awareness of plans for Joshua, in the event of victory, to fight Fury in 2025 contributed to the suspicion that the GEA was desperate for him to defeat Dubois, and the marketing material depicting Joshua’s photogenic face lining Wembley Way did little to dampen that. To leave Wembley Park Station in the direction of the stadium is to receive an unavoidable reminder of its size, and therefore how significant it is for a sport that can suffer in the shadows cast by more popular ones to be showcased there (this writer was present at, and fondly reflects on the positive impacts of, Joshua’s fights with Wladimir Klitschko and Alexander Povetkin, and Carl Froch-George Groves II).
Closer to the stadium could be seen, in the form of Riyadh Season-branding and a makeshift tribute to Riyadh’s Boulevard World that reminded BoxingScene of the tedium of the build-up to Fury-Usyk, the influence of the aggressive sportswashing campaign the GEA is overseeing. The same Riyadh Season-branding existed either side of Wembley’s two big screens, across the top of the roof over the ring – no doubt so that the helicopters and drones commissioned to take in aerial views could remind the many viewers of whose financial might had made Dubois-Joshua possible – along the four pillars holding that roof up, on the ring canvas, and on every electronic billboard and temporary barrier separating the areas of the pitch.
The first three fights – Mark Chamberlain-Josh Padley, Josh Kelly-Ishmael Davis and Anthony Cacace-Josh Warrington – had taken place, and done little to serve the occasion when BoxingScene first watched on one of those screens a Riyadh Season advert that at one point announced “This season is for imagination,” which perhaps is the key to acknowledging the presence of the “record” crowd.
Joshua Buatsi-Willy Hutchinson followed, and was – as was anticipated when they were matched together – entertaining and competitive. Why it wasn’t the chief support to Dubois-Joshua would have been puzzling had the talented Hamzah Sheeraz, who next stopped Tyler Denny in two rounds, not already become a Riyadh Season ambassador and fought on cards overseen by the GEA. In that specific respect, the GEA is suited to the boxing landscape – an apparent willingness to exaggerate figures and to favor self-interest, in this occasion in the form of Sheeraz, over the appeal of less self-serving fights, like Buatsi-Hutchinson, is often essential if one such organization is to survive.
It was shortly before 8pm in London when Dubois, the defending IBF champion, was shown arriving at Wembley, and he was given a lukewarm reception. “The wonders of Saudi Arabia” were extolled in a pre-recorded audio message shortly afterwards. Sheeraz, perhaps inevitably, and having made another fine statement of his considerable potential, referenced “His Excellency” during his post-fight interview; his interviewer then asked a question that started, “You’ve fought in Riyadh Season before, in Saudi Arabia for incredible atmospheres …” It was the latest demonstration of the public-relations offensive that was so obvious a feature of the evening. If it were completely true, of course, there would be less need for their fights to be staged anywhere else.
Another video advert for VisitSaudi.com followed, and depicted a woman walking with apparent freedom in a country known to suppress women’s rights before promising “[Saudi Arabia] will send shivers down your spine.” When Joshua – typically the crowd favorite – was then shown arriving those present barely appeared to respond. Post-fight, it’s possible his popularity has waned, in the belief that it is less likely than ever that he will fight Fury. Pre-fight, he remained the crowd favorite, suggesting that the repeated adverts had undermined the impact of what was appearing on the screens – or that his normally vocal supporters were simply distracted by the Your Guide To Saudi Arabias that were handed out (and that inevitably promoted the Kingdom as The Best Place In The World).
It was around then that a fully accredited boxing journalist posted on social media about attempts by organizers to move he and colleagues from their seats, because those same seats had been sold to what were described as “VIPs.” BoxingScene could have pointed them in the direction of numerous others that were free, but the same journalist later posted that he had refused to move and was later apologised to for the confusion caused.
The sense that the organizers regardless regarded the occasion as a vanity project for the GEA and Alalshikh over one of the most appealing heavyweight match-ups that could be delivered then grew further when the cameras followed Alalshikh as he made his way to his ringside seat and he responded by shadowboxing with all of the grace of the election campaign of Donald Trump. The chairman of the GEA was briefly cheered, and just as briefly booed – a warning he is unlikely to have received when being sold the Sweet Caroline dream – suggesting that, unlike when Eddie Hearn has been loudly booed by the crowd at Wembley, those present simply didn’t care about the self-proclaimed “face of boxing” at all.
His image, regardless, continued to be displayed on the big screens, which most curiously of all contributed to no further footage of the two main-event fighters being shown until they made their way to the ring. The sight of fighters getting their hands wrapped and warming up by throwing their first punches of the evening is typically used to nurture the sense of excitement at a fight venue; Wembley, however, was still being shown a relatively stationary Alalshikh.
“Ninety-six thousand people in London, make some noise,” soon came the call over the speakers. Had the spotlights not continued to illuminate some of the empty seats, they’d have been likelier to convince.
Liam Gallagher – despite hopes that his brother Noel would join him – performed alone, and then came the Sweet Caroline-themed Guy Ritchie fight trailer, which at the very start prominently featured the words “Chop Chop,” which given Saudi Arabia’s reputation for decapitations — the journalist Jamal Khashoggi’s death included — struck BoxingScene as tone-deaf and ill-advised.
When Neil Diamond’s over-celebrated song followed, so, again, did the image of Alalshikh on the big screens. Again he shadowboxed, again he far from convinced, and again he was met with general indifference.
Dubois, in lieu of tradition and after weeks in which he had been promoted as the champion, walked to the ring first. Joshua followed. Both made a notable impact when they did so, but there was little like the unmistakeable tension that existed around a truly invested, 78,000-strong crowd on the night of the rematch between Froch and Groves.
Typically, if national anthems form part of the ceremony of a world-title fight, they are those of the fighters’ nationalities, and if the fight is taking place in neutral territory, complemented by that of the country playing host. The Saudi Arabian anthem came first while the stadium was lit green; God Saved The King followed, and the approval, by comparison, was deafening.
Michael Buffer’s last move, pre-fight, was to shout about the presence of 96,000. Dubois and Joshua then proceeded to deliver the most enthralling of fights.
At the same venue where, against Klitschko he had had his finest hour, and against Povetkin he reaffirmed his status as the world’s leading heavyweight, Joshua – once the darling of the Wembley crowd and the groomed-for-greatness golden boy of British boxing – suffered the most chastening evening of his career.
Even those predicting victory for Dubois hadn’t expected Joshua, in a boxing context, to be made to look like an old man, but that was exactly what Dubois ruthlessly, fearlessly, emphatically, cruelly and repeatedly did. Their fight evoked images of Ricky Hatton being stopped by Vyacheslav Senchenko at the Manchester Arena; of the second time at London’s O2 Arena that Tony Bellew stopped David Haye. Joshua, with the might of Saudi Arabia behind him, was supposed to power his way into an undisputed heavyweight title fight in 2025; instead he was beaten up under the harshest of spotlights, and in an undeservedly undignified manner left on his knees.
Each of the previous Riyadh Season promotions had been justifiably criticized for their forgettable atmospheres, the endless hours they lasted from start to finish, and the anti-social times at which they unfolded.
Dubois-Joshua represented neither too many fights nor too few; it concluded at a time convenient for the significant crowd that attended, and with a fight that not only surpassed expectations, but that captured the sport at its dramatic, thrilling best and brutally harsh worst.
The impact it made meant that, to almost all present, Alalshikh, the GEA, and the appeal or otherwise of the Kingdom had immediately become little more than an afterthought.
So soon afterwards the ultimate influence of the Riyadh Season messaging remains unclear. But a fight of that nature will remain memorable for all of the right reasons, which begs the questions: why were there so many empty seats, and why attempt to censor a free press?