In the fascinating and highly unusual setting of the Giza Necropolis in Egypt, with the Pyramids serving as the backdrop, heavyweight world champion Oleksandr Usyk defeated kickboxing legend Rico Verhoeven by technical knockout with one second left in the eleventh round, thanks to a disgraceful referee stoppage. Despite the victory, the Ukrainian boxer’s performance against an athlete from another combat sport was so flat, poor, and flawed that it amounted to a disgrace for boxing itself.
From the moment it was officially announced, this fight appeared to the overwhelming majority of boxing fans and insiders as a complete joke, a blatant mismatch, a circus act. Instead, it came dangerously close to becoming one of the greatest upsets of all time.
Verhoeven’s strong start, during which he was more active and aggressive than an extremely cautious and tentative Usyk, did not initially seem like a major warning sign. Many viewers watching the early rounds likely recalled Floyd Mayweather Jr.’s victory over MMA fighter Conor McGregor. On that occasion, the American boxing legend surrendered the initiative for several rounds, giving the impression of struggling before gradually increasing the pace and exhausting McGregor.
In theory, Usyk’s team may have prepared a similar strategy for the Ukrainian champion. By conceding the opening rounds to Verhoeven, he had the opportunity to study his opponent’s peculiar style and awkward movements without risking dangerous surprise shots. The fourth round even appeared to confirm this interpretation: Usyk landed two beautiful left uppercuts to the head that Verhoeven struggled to absorb, losing his mouthpiece on the second occasion. Apparently, the world champion had decided to enter the fight for real. But that was not the case.
Usyk’s flashes of brilliance in the fourth round remained isolated moments because from the fifth onward the Ukrainian returned to being passive, lethargic, and ineffective. His punches lacked snap and explosiveness, his defense was careless, and his pace was painfully slow. Verhoeven was therefore able to widen his lead, which after the halfway point started becoming genuinely worrying for the champion.
To be fair, Rico was not doing anything extraordinary. His attacks were often messy and at times illegal, with heavy use of the forearms and constant attempts to pin his opponent against the ropes, including plenty of shoulder bumps. But his right hand landed effectively at least two or three times per round. Moreover, his constant foot movement prevented the champion from easily timing him.
The long-awaited turning point did not arrive in the seventh, nor in the eighth, nor even in the ninth round. Usyk looked like a distant relative of the phenomenal fighter admired for years around the world. What was particularly shocking was the total absence of urgency in his demeanor: the Ukrainian was not hunting for a knockout, not sitting down on his punches, not engaging in battle. His expression was vacant, his competitive fire nowhere to be found.
The increasingly stunned spectators had to wait until the closing stages of the tenth round to finally witness a proud reaction from the champion. Usyk landed good combinations and Verhoeven felt them — not enough to suggest an imminent collapse, but enough to make the final six minutes intriguing and uncertain.
Those six minutes were supposed to be fought at full throttle by the champion, desperately searching for the decisive blow. And yet, even during the eleventh round, Usyk did not unleash sustained pressure, did not attack relentlessly, did not launch an all-out assault. Instead, the golden opportunity to turn the fight around was handed to him by his opponent’s fatigue. Verhoeven, accustomed to five-round kickboxing fights, was inevitably exhausted after ten and a half rounds of constant movement.
In the second half of the eleventh round, Rico lost sharpness, began standing still more frequently in front of his opponent, and shortly before the bell was caught by a superb right uppercut. The Dutchman reacted badly to the punch and fell forward, losing — or perhaps spitting out — his mouthpiece.
Although badly shaken, Verhoeven got back up, benefited from a few extra seconds because the mouthpiece had to be reinserted, and tried to survive until the end of the round while Usyk unleashed a barrage of punches. It was precisely at that moment, however, that his status as an “outsider” in the boxing world worked against him.
Perhaps referee Mark Lyson suddenly felt that the dignity of the Noble Art rested in his hands and that his intervention was necessary to protect the image of an ancient and glorious sport. Perhaps he believed he had a duty to safeguard the legacy of a man like Usyk as a reward for his heroic accomplishments in the past. Or perhaps he simply made a terrible mistake. Whatever the reason, Lyson embraced Verhoeven an instant after the bell ending the round and waved off the fight. “An instant after” then magically became “one second before” in the official report.
The feeling that Verhoeven had to lose at all costs is reinforced by the scorecards. At the end of the tenth round, two judges had the fight even, while the third had Rico ahead by only two points. Such scores appear heavily influenced by psychological bias because finding five rounds won by Usyk in this fight is truly a monumental task.
So what conclusions should be drawn from this bizarre sporting event? Many will use tonight’s events to diminish Usyk, his achievements, and his legacy, and in a certain sense the Ukrainian boxer deserves it. Usyk should never have accepted this fight: by doing so he exposed himself to the colossal risk of throwing away a lifetime of sacrifices that had rightfully earned him a place in discussions about the greatest heavyweights of all time.
I will not make the mistake of allowing a single bad night to erase an extraordinary career, nor will I question the résumé of a remarkable athlete because of one stumble. I refuse to do so because it is completely evident to my eyes that Usyk tonight was out of condition, both mentally and physically — something I did not expect from such a serious professional, and most likely caused by the nonexistent boxing credentials of his opponent and the belief that he could win effortlessly.
Nevertheless, this labored victory, aided by a dreadful refereeing decision, remains a stain that cannot be ignored when Usyk eventually hangs up the gloves and his career is weighed against those of the all-time greats. A boxing champion cannot risk defeat against a kickboxer: after honoring boxing so many times, this time the Ukrainian dishonored it.