On Saturday, May 18, the world will witness the most significant sporting event of the last quarter-century when WBC heavyweight champion Tyson Fury and unified WBA, WBO, and IBF heavyweight champion Oleksandr Usyk meet in the boxing ring to definitively settle, for the first time since Lennox Lewis defeated Evander Holyfield in 1999, who may rightly lay claim to the title of “baddest man on the planet.” By all appearances, even Pope Francis will be tracking the bout, and every Christian, particularly every Catholic, should likewise tune in.
That’s because the spectacle will feature an angle rather unique in the world of sport: both of the heavyweight kingpins of this era are outspoken Christian men professing to incorporate Gospel values into every aspect of their lives. And within the notoriously debauched ranks of world-level athletes, such resolve is a breath of fresh air. With sport being the near unrivaled cultural driver that it is for a Western world in the throes of total demoralization, the evangelistic import of two Christ-fearing pugilists squaring off in front of an international audience cannot be understated. For people of faith, representation in the wider culture matters. And it seems that Fury himself is keenly aware of this, as he’s remarked in years past, long before he reigned over boxing’s marquee division, “If I were heavyweight champion of the world, I could get to more people than a million churches around the world. God knows this, and God will use me to talk to people and tell them the good news.”
Fury is of Catholic Irish-Traveller descent. He and his wife of 15 years, Paris, share 7 children together. Before they tied the knot at St. Peter-in-Chains Catholic Church in Doncaster, the couple reputedly bucked the trend and enjoyed a chaste courtship, conscientiously waiting until marriage to have sex (Tyson Fury, Behind the Mask: My Autobiography [London: Century, 2019], 62–63). Fury has been outspoken in promoting the Church’s teachings on matters such as abortion and human sexuality and has goaded his critics, “If you want to know any more about any of my opinions, consult the Pope of Rome, because he has the same opinions.” And while many otherwise neo-pagan athletes pay lip service to God, invoking the divine as a sort of talisman in a superstitious bid to achieve favorable outcomes in their respective disciplines, Fury is cut from a different cloth. The Mancunian has quipped that as a practicing Catholic, religion is everything to him and that he’d rather be knocked out 10 times than not go to Heaven.
The faith of the more laconic Usyk is similarly admirable. The Ukrainian, likewise a family man who shares four children with his wife of 14 years, Yekaterina, devoutly professes Eastern Orthodoxy, having enjoyed, via the ministry of a visiting priest, a hospital-bed conversion in his youth. Usyk also makes no bones about the centrality of Christ in his life. “He does not follow me, but I go after Him. Every day I say thanks to Him for a day lived,” Usyk has reflected. Even in what was likely his highest moment of fistic glory to date, his demolition job on the vaunted Anthony Joshua to become a unified heavyweight champion, Usyk remained grounded in his humble discipleship, proclaiming to a press eagerly awaiting a traditional bravado-saturated post-bout debriefing, “The only thing I wanted to do with this fight is to give praise to Jesus Christ.”
Unsurprisingly, there is a profound mutual respect between the two champions, an esteem that far transcends acknowledgement of each other’s impressive feats in the sweet science. In the run-up to Saturday’s megafight, Fury has been uncharacteristically effusive in his praise for his rival. “I respect Usyk as a man, because he’s a family man, which I am myself, so I respect that more than any boxing achievement,” the “Gypsy King” recently admitted. And in a face-off interview conducted by British sports pundit Steve Bunce, Fury remarked of Usyk, “He’s a God-fearing man and so am I. We are the two biggest Christians in boxing.” Moments later, glancing over at his rival, Fury confided, “More than anything, why I respect you more than all the other boxers is because of your faith.” Usyk, who had up till that point in the encounter worn a stony, stoic expression, noticeably lit up, affirming wide-eyed with tangible warmth, “Yes, yes, of course.” The singular uniqueness of such overt Christian fraternity between hyper-elite athletes heading into a generational fight that’s sure to be the defining moment of their professional careers (and likely shatter standing pay-per-view records) should not be overlooked.
Adding to the draw that the upcoming undisputed title bout should hold for Christians the world over, Pope Francis has personally blessed and signed the WBC championship belt that awaits Saturday night’s victor. And in point of fact, according to World Boxing Council president Mauricio Sulaiman, the pontiff is “looking forward” to the fight (although whether he favors Fury or Usyk remains strictly guarded under the confessional seal). Interestingly, if we’re to believe former heavyweight champ Deontay Wilder (dethroned by Fury) who recently visited Pope Francis and, in a private Vatican ceremony, received the title “ambassador for peace through sport,” the pope is a “big boxing fan.”
Honestly, Pope Francis’s interest in today’s lit heavyweight division shouldn’t be all that surprising. Those who know the history of boxing understand it has a strong Catholic pedigree. As Amy Koehlinger noted in her aptly named America Magazine piece “Why Boxing Was the Most Catholic Sport for Almost 100 Years,” up until the 1970s, boxing veritably “saturated U.S. Catholic culture.” Boxing lessons were a mainstay of stateside parish schools, and matches were facilitated by the likes of the Knights of Columbus. Priests functioned as corner men and trainers throughout the boxing world, from dingy amateur gyms to the luminous Madison Square Garden.
What’s more, former heavyweight champs Gene Tunney, Floyd Patterson, and Rocky Marciano were widely known to be devout practitioners of the Catholic faith. “The Rock” in particular, the only heavyweight champion to retire undefeated (with a perfect 49–0 record, mind you) is known to have interrupted his training to attend the holy sacrifice of the Mass and to have made time to receive the sacraments before his fights. His mom, it’s said, would shut herself in her room and pray the Rosary while his bouts were in progress. Sonny Liston, another renowned former heavyweight champ, was convinced while in prison to begin boxing by a Catholic priest, Fr. Alois Stevens. Father Stevens even helped jumpstart Liston’s storied post-prison boxing career. Liston, like many of his fighting peers, is known to have frequented the Mass. Boxing, it seems, is a Catholic tradition. And Catholics love tradition.[1]
But there’s another important reason that Christians should follow Pope Francis’s lead and take a keen interest in not only the upcoming undisputed title fight but boxing (and rugged sports) in general: to help foster growth in masculinity and toughness in the rising generation of the faithful. As Pope Leo XIII notes in Sapientiae Christianae, “Christians are . . . born for combat,” a lesson that many of our most devout young men must learn.
Sadly, a quick scan of the campuses of the finest Catholic universities in the United States, the “Newman list” schools, yields a disconcerting picture in one respect — they’re overrun by an awkward stripe of post-adolescent Christian males who, while advanced in prayer and piety, have neglected exercise, fitness, and participation in athletics. Ironically, this can often be indicative of certain spiritual weaknesses: moral softness, blind spots in virtue, and a failure to subjugate the body to the diktats of the intellect and will. In the rising generation, this may be a sign of serious formational oversights with troublesome downstream effects, such as being unprepared to navigate their families through a militantly anti-Christian and materialistic world that offers many temptations and incentives to embrace its false gospel.
Bishop Robert Barron has sounded the alarm about modern society’s “Homer Simpsonization” of men, wherein men are caricatured as gluttonous, lecherous, low-IQ warm-bodies. And there’s real merit in his observations. But at present, the West is staring at a comparably dangerous but more insidious threat to Christian masculinity — the Rod and Todd Flandersization of the post-adolescent Christian male. Many young adults take pride in their emphasis of the spiritual to the detriment of the physical, in a sort of noxious dualism. While certainly Christians are called to reject the disordered “cult of the body,” as it’s labeled by the Catechism of the Catholic Church, I submit that, in the final analysis, many young men would be far better off in their vocations if they spent 30 minutes at the gym per day in lieu of saying a second or third Rosary. But don’t take it from me; take it from Pope Pius XI, who once admonished,
The true Christian does not renounce the activities of this life, he does not stunt his natural faculties; but he develops and perfects them, by coordinating them with the supernatural. He thus ennobles what is merely natural in life and secures for it new strength in the material and temporal order, no less than in the spiritual and eternal (Divini Illius Magistri, §98).
Hence, properly understood, sports represent a viable solution to a neo-Manichaean attitude of neglect and undervaluation of the body, along with the attendant spiritual hazards, that’s curiously trending in many Catholic circles. In the words of the august Pius XII (who himself boxed as a youth),
Sport is an effective antidote against softness and comfortable living. It awakens a sense of order and educates in self-examination, self-control, and the contempt of danger without boasting or cowardice. Thus, it surpasses mere physical robustness, leading to moral strength and greatness. . . .
Sport is a school of loyalty, courage, endurance, resolve, and universal brotherhood — all natural virtues that provide a solid foundation for supernatural virtues and prepare one to bear the weight of the most serious responsibilities without weakness.
Pope Paul VI likewise once reminded Christendom,
The Church sees in sport a gymnasium of the spirit, a means to exercise moral education; and because of this, it admires, approves, and encourages the practice of sport in its various forms, that of youth sports, whose practice harmonically develops the body in its physical potential, as well as the competitive sport. . . . And the Church admires it, approves it and encourages it, sport, even more so if the use of physical strength is accompanied by the use of moral strength, which can make sport a magnificent personal discipline.
Of course, what’s said here of athletics in general applies with especial force to a physically grueling, full-contact sport like boxing. To muster greater pluck and moxie, as one must in the more arduous disciplines, greater self-mastery and exercise of virtue, both corporeal and spiritual, is required. Boxing, therefore, is a worthwhile pursuit, one that modern atrophied and sedentary Christian men would be well-served to cultivate an interest in.
Finally, Christians should tune in to Saturday’s undisputed heavyweight championship fight because it’s going to be an absolute barnburner. It’s a match-up for the ages: Fury, the 6’ 9” giant with 85” reach, who can dance and box like a middleweight but who carries heavyweight thunder in his gloves, versus Usyk, the 6’ 3” former undisputed cruiserweight champion turned unified heavyweight champion whose unparalleled technical prowess, southpaw stance, feline quickness, and savvy footwork has made him the dread-foe of the division of giants. The bout will prove a fascinating clash of styles, one to rival the most iconic fights of decades past like Ali–Foreman, Tyson–Lewis, and Bowe–Holyfield. No doubt it will be well-studied in the years to come, as it will serve as a significant contribution to the treasury of pugilistic knowledge, as two master boxers and two serious Christians stand toe to toe in a shootout for all the glory.
Note:
[1] A full discussion of the morality of boxing is far outside the scope of this article, but suffice it to say that there is nothing per se sinful about prizefighting (see e.g., Heribert Jone, Moral Theology, revised English translation of the thirteenth German edition, trans. Urban Edelman [Westminster, MD: Newman Press, 1952], 134).
Image: Adobe Stock. By Photocreo Bednarek.
David Gordon is a Catholic author and a prosecuting attorney.
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