Any comparison between Terence Crawford and Marvin Hagler extends beyond just their ability to switch seamlessly from southpaw to orthodox. As well as that unique gift, Crawford shares with Hagler a hardiness and a spitefulness, not to mention a darkness, the kind found only in the eyes of boxers for whom fighting is second nature.
Like Hagler, too, Crawford, 41-0 (31), is a fighter who appears satisfied by victory only when he has hurt his opponent and left his mark. Anything short of that is considered a small failure; a win not worth having. Anything short of that is, for Crawford, the same as having not fought at all.
And yet, where Crawford and Hagler tend to differ is in their overall approach, particularly to legacy-building. After all, whereas “Marvelous” Marvin, 62-3-2 (52), remained throughout his professional career a one-division man, “Bud”, by contrast, has found liberation roaming through weights classes and pursuing challenges rather than letting them come to him. That is what enabled Crawford to become a four-weight world champion on Saturday night (August 3) in Los Angeles. It is also what has some encouraging Crawford to now flourish in a fifth weight division, either middleweight or super-middleweight, ignoring in the process the fact that the Nebraskan began his career as a 135-pound lightweight.
Indeed, so alluring is Saul “Canelo” Alvarez, Crawford’s target at super-middleweight, it is easy to forget just how far Crawford would have traveled in order to find him. We know, too, that there comes a time when greed, either for money or respect, invariably outstrips a boxer’s capabilities and leads to them biting off more than they can chew.
For Crawford, who just went the distance for the first time since 2016 against Israil Madrimov, there is the same risk. At 5’8, he is clearly more welterweight than middleweight, never mind a super-middleweight, and much of what makes him such a brilliant technician in and around welterweight is liable to diminish, if not disappear, the further north he strays of 147 pounds.
Some will even argue that his performance against Madrimov offers proof of Crawford losing something with the addition of just seven pounds (the difference between welterweight and junior-middleweight). That theory may be doing a disservice to Madrimov, but it is still true that Crawford’s ability to hurt his opponent – so often a feature of his fights at or beneath welterweight – was nonexistent against his latest one, a WBA junior-middleweight champion, on Saturday night.
Which begs the question: Should Terence Crawford stop there, at junior-middleweight, and go no further?
In an ideal world, one awash with high-profile men of similar size, there would be no need to keep pushing his body or run the risk of coming unstuck against a larger man. But this is not an ideal world and Crawford, although a pound-for-pound star, is neither famous enough to rest on his laurels nor fortunate enough to have a wealth of big names against whom he can make ungodly amounts of money. In fact, having thrashed Errol Spence so convincingly last July, Crawford is now without any natural rivals and therefore stranded, unmoored. This goes some way to explaining why there were 12 months of inactivity between him beating Spence and beating Madrimov and why only the hand-holding of Turki Alalshikh could get him going again. It also explains why now, after dethroning Madrimov, he is again being linked with a fantasy fight against Alvarez, one that makes only financial sense.
Whatever he opts to do next, Crawford knows that time is of the essence. He turns 37 next month, you see, and Saturday’s win against Madrimov represented the 41st pro win of a 16-year pro career. He has been a late bloomer, yes, but only with regards to recognition and wealth. In every other department Crawford wears, for the better or worse, the hallmarks of a fighter who has been fighting since they could walk and talk.
For context, by the time Marvin Hagler was 37, he was well and truly retired. He had been retired for several years, in fact, and was now living in Italy, where he would later star in action films. Content, by all accounts, having made a fortune during his 67-fight pro career, Hagler retired as a man whose greatness was supplemented and enhanced by the greatness of those around him, arguably the best gift any prizefighter can receive.
Of similar standing to Hagler in his day were “Sugar” Ray Leonard, whose move from welterweight to middleweight brought him to Hagler’s door, Thomas Hearns, who made the same trip, and also Roberto Duran, who ventured all the way up from lightweight. Meanwhile, Hagler himself stayed put, seated. Unwilling to budge so much as an inch, he would remain at middleweight for his entire career – one that stretched from 1973 to 1987 – and never once felt the pressure to travel, prove himself elsewhere, or relinquish physical advantages to make a little extra cash. Instead, as well as a feat of discipline, Hagler’s decision to persist at middleweight for 14 years was a mark of both his stubbornness and a belief that dominance in one weight class was every bit as meaningful as pillaging several. He held firm, in other words. He refused to give it up or give in.
Of course, when one is surrounded by the likes of Leonard and Hearns and Duran, and able to capitalize on their restlessness and/or ill-discipline, one is granted certain luxuries. In Hagler’s case, he had the option to stick around and just wait, confident they would one day come to him. Not only that, if a fighter is prepared to establish themselves as the main man in a weight class, and then sustain their dominance, they become the very peak of a mountain others aspire to climb, in turn bringing them the control they crave.
Chances are Crawford will, like Hagler, one day end up a middleweight champion, although the two “reigns” will be decidedly different, of course. For while for Hagler it was a life’s work, becoming middleweight champion for Crawford represents merely a box-ticking exercise; the addition of a fifth weight class to his already considerable portfolio. To win a middleweight belt in 2024 Crawford can target either Erislandy Lara (WBA), Carlos Adames (WBC), or Janibek Alimkhanuly (IBF/WBO), all of whom, despite his smaller size, the four-weight champion from Omaha would be favored to dethrone.
That is just a reflection of the times, I’m afraid; as much a testament to Crawford’s brilliance as it is an indictment of the lack of quality around him. It reflects, in the end, not only the shortage of compelling options for Crawford but also the how tempting it is for a boxer today to cherry-pick their weight class and belt rather than create anything long-lasting or solid.
There being so many, both divisions and belts, never has it been more enticing to sleep around. In fact, it now seems almost a demonstration of indolence to mark one’s territory and seek dominance in a single weight class, as Hagler did for so many years. It is deemed a weakness these days, a black mark against you. Even so much as consider it and they will advise you to get a move on and dare to be great.
Which is what they call it nowadays, by the way: daring to be great. That is what they call chasing opportunities for inordinate amounts of money knowing full well you will lose the fight. It is a courageous act, on the one hand, but on the other it can be seen as just another brand of kamikaze capitalism, for daring to be great is, once you remove the fluff, all about sacrificing logic and brain cells to make as much money as possible on a single night. It is every fighter’s right to take this path, of course, yet only rarely does daring to be great pay off in any way except financially.
In terms of Crawford, moving to super-middleweight to fight Canelo Alvarez would again be an example of a fighter daring to be great. Asked about its importance on Saturday, Crawford said: “It’s not so important to me. It’s just another milestone to greatness, I suppose – and financially-wise!” He got the order right at least: greatness followed by finance. However, make no mistake: of their greatness these two men are already convinced, which means the true incentive to fight is money, regardless of what is said in public.
Certainly, Crawford will not believe a win against Alvarez is required to feel satisfied when his career ends, nor will Alvarez decide the only thing missing from his own 65-fight record is a win over a man who started winning titles as a lightweight. Instead, should they one day agree to fight, they would have both been seduced by the smell of the payday as well as protected by two things that exist in boxing solely to promote the farfetched: the pound-for-pound title and the phrase “daring to be great”.
At a similar juncture in his own career, Marvin Hagler’s biggest threat was silk pajamas. The moment he touched them and slept in them, he said he knew it was time to hang up the gloves.
Yet whenever today’s fighters happen upon a pair of silk pajamas, they see in Canelo Alvarez, the one wearing them, their future. They will then do anything they can to wear them, irrespective of whether or not they fit.