There isn’t much that unites everybody in the partisan world of boxing, but Eddie Hearn’s announcement that Matchroom are considering the idea of starting main events at 9pm caused a joining of hands across the divides. 

No more 10.45pm video montages selling and promoting a fight you are already tuned in to watch. No more post-midnight finishes.

Earlier start times are a good thing and a step forward, but there is a balance to be struck, and it involves finding the sweet spot between keeping television viewers tuned in, ticket-buying fans engaged, and the right thing for the fighters.

Unless the cards are shortened significantly or start much earlier, a 9pm start time may be a little too early.

Yes, it will allow people at home to change channels and catch the start of Match of The Day, but, in the arena, it would have the effect of turning out the lights on fighters sat in the dressing rooms waiting to compete after the main event has finished.  

The YouTube army increasingly set up their tripods on press row the second the main event has been waved off, and getting instant reactions would take precedence over the action in the ring. Fans flock to ringside to pose for photos with fight figures, and casual fans would likely disappear off into the night. 

The fights would become background noise to the aftermath of a major main event.

I have been in arenas where undercard fighters have walked to the ring together and then boxed as the seating and lighting rigs are dismantled around them.

It must be heartbreaking for a young fighter who has spent the week believing their life was about to change to glance out of the ring whilst they are in a clinch and see the front row empty and the cameramen disassembling their equipment. 

The main-support bout used to be the plum spot on an undercard, but pushing the main event start time back further and further has turned some significant fights into glorified float bouts with those in attendance wishing the rounds away.

A 10pm start should provide the main-event fighters with an engaged crowd and primetime viewing figures, while also allowing plenty of time to get all of the undercard fights done. It would also allow the main event to bring the night to a natural conclusion. ;

As changes seem to be afoot, here are a couple of other ideas.

‘I’ve Got Something Special Planned For My Ring walk’

If you can’t dance, nothing good has ever come from attempting it. 

It faces stern competition from shit-stirring pop-up YouTube channels and single use £1,000 fight kits but the introduction of the stage and ramp may just be my least favourite innovation in the way modern boxing is presented.

Boxing is increasingly becoming a star-driven sport, but if we are trying to create characters and help fighters to connect with the audience, giving them identikit ring entrances is a strange way to achieve it.

Boxing is a personal sport and each and every fighter has their own way of dealing with the final few moments before a fight.

Not every professional wants to learn awful choreography or awkwardly pace around while they wait for the floor manager to give them the nod to start a suddenly purposeful march to the ring.

Imagine Mike Tyson shadow boxing and shuffling while he waited for the beat to drop on Welcome To The Terrordome.

Ring walks are a major part of boxing, and no other sport can come close to replicating the tension and spectacle produced by that golden 15-minute spell before a major title fight, but the attention of a significant ring walk should be earned and a six-round catchweight contest with a late notice opponent isn’t worthy of such an elaborate build-up. 

Increasingly, a four-round novice can expect to be given a bells and whistles introduction at Wednesday’s open workout, and at Thursday’s press conference to answer 20 questions about the opportunity they are grateful to have been given. They are then welcomed to the scales to weigh-in on the Friday and then called to the ring like a world champion on Saturday. It is too much. 

For lower-profile shows, why not hold the pre-fight press conference in a local shopping centre rather than the widely disliked open workout? Giving passers-by a glimpse behind the curtain and letting them listen to fighters arguing and facing off would likely attract much more casual interest.

Ring walks for the entire card are here to stay but, surely, there has to be more imaginative ways of getting undercard fighters to connect with the crowd and get their story across rather than a stage-managed package?

Give the fighter a choice. Let them stamp their personality on the event. If a natural showperson wants to do an elaborate ring entrance, let them. It will work and feel more natural. If not, it isn’t beyond the realms of modern technology to piece together a one-minute long VT that either highlights the fighter’s character or tees up the upcoming fight. Play the video in the arena and on television and let them walk to the ring under their own steam. They can make their name once the bell rings. Promote individuality.

Yes, it is stealing a little from the UFC’s playbook, but imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

‘If You Aren’t Cheating, You Aren’t Trying To Win’

Skullduggery is part of every sport and, as long as it doesn’t involve the use of illegal substances – including red paint – or blatantly breaking the rules to alter the result, I’m all for it. 

In the 1990s, a football manager called John Beck was renowned for making life uncomfortable for opposing teams turning up to take on Cambridge United. Their warm-up balls would be soaked in water or under-inflated; the hot water in their dressing room would be turned off and the heating turned up and even the pitch was doctored to suit Beck’s preferred style of play, leaving the grass especially long in the corners. Great fun.

There are obviously potentially far, far more significant repercussions for bending the rules in boxing, but the sport would be a poorer place if it wasn’t for the wide array of characters and stories of them doing whatever they can to gain even the slightest advantage. 

We have all heard stories about promoters putting fighters in a hotel on the other side of town and then generously making sure they get a first-hand look at every set of roadworks as they are ferried around all week by a cab company that has suffered an unfortunate air-conditioning failure.

Promoters and managers will fight for days or weeks to try to secure the right sized ring for their fighter, the right number of ringside seats, and the biggest dressing room. We love the drama when pre-fight rumors fly around ringside that a fighter has been made to remove their handwraps.

The fun and games continue in the ring. We celebrate a journeyman beating a youngster by employing the dark arts. They clinch on the referee’s blindside. They hit the hips and jam uppercuts with their elbows. There are hundreds of ways an experienced fighter can make things difficult for a youngster and all are difficult – if not impossible – to police. They are part and parcel of a rough sport. 

But buying time by spitting out the mouthpiece is a clear form of cheating that can have a significant impact on the outcome of a fight. It is treated much less harshly than other blatant fouls like using the head or punching below the belt, but just ask Jose Luis Castillo about the effect it can have.

It also seems to be happening more and more regularly, yet there is a pretty simple and obvious way of stamping it out.

Why don’t we clip a water bottle on to the referee’s waistband? When a mouthpiece hits the canvas, they can quickly rinse it off and get the action back underway rather than leading the hurt fighter back to their corner where – if they know what they are doing – their trainer will accidentally drop it, forget where the water is and then struggle to get it back into their fighter’s mouth. 

John Evans has contributed to a number of well-known publications and websites for over a decade. You can follow John on X