It was the career-defining victory he had never stopped believing would eventually come with hard work and dedication to his craft.
Even Álvarez needled him in the buildup: “If you look at his career, mention one elite fighter.” That barb was answered on Saturday night.
Crawford’s achievements had already marked him as a first-ballot hall‑of‑famer long before Saturday night.
Crawford’s laconic personality, his distaste for theatrics, has long kept him from the superstardom enjoyed by flashier peers.
It was not just about beating Álvarez, though that alone was the kind of victory that vaulted him into all-time company.
Terence Crawford knelt down in the middle of the ring and sobbed as the task was completed and the scores were announced. The 37-year-old from Omaha had just defeated the biggest boxing star in the sport, Canelo Álvarez, in front of over 70,000 fans in Las Vegas and millions more on Netflix, after more than ten years of waiting for the moment that would propel his greatness beyond the paywalled enclave of modern boxing. It was the triumph that defined his career, and he had never given up on the idea that perseverance and commitment to his craft would eventually lead to it.
Crawford has always had patience as his greatest strength. He is a master at solving problems in the ring; he is slow to show his hand, happy to let an opponent display their patterns, and, after figuring out the code, he dismantles them surgically. He waited for the one night when he could no longer be ignored outside of it, having spent years of frustration being denied the opponents and paychecks that his gifts deserved. Both sides of that signature discipline were proven correct on Saturday at Allegiant Stadium.
As a quiet craftsman without the crossover appeal of louder, brasher champions, Crawford spent the majority of his career operating on the periphery of mainstream stardom. He weighed 140 lbs. He repeated the feat in 2023, defeating Errol Spence Jr. in front of roughly 700,000 pay-per-view viewers, which was by far his most notable commercial achievement. Still, there were questions. Critics criticized his resume for lacking well-known names. All too frequently, the victories were against opponents who were written off as “nobodies.”. The most alluring opponents avoided him because of his longstanding association with Top Rank. In the build-up, Álvarez even poked fun at him, saying, “If you look at his career, mention one elite fighter.”. “.”.
On the evening of Saturday, that barb was addressed. To take on Álvarez, a four-weight champion who had sold out stadiums across several continents and was firmly established at super-middleweight for almost seven years, Crawford jumped not one but two divisions. Crawford started off boxing calmly, countering sharply with a probing southpaw jab. The changeover in the middle rounds followed. He stated, “I felt like I needed to step it up a little more and get more control of the fight around like the sixth round, because the fight was going like a seesaw effect.”. From that point on, the pattern was evident: Álvarez chasing shadows, Crawford dictating terms.
Long before Saturday night, Crawford’s accomplishments had already established him as a first-ballot hall of famer. Even if the decision had been denied to him—which, at least in light of my score of 118-110, came dangerously close to happening—nothing would have changed that. Before boxing’s lengthy decline to the periphery of American society, his four weight class titles—including uncontested reigns in two of them—would have been sufficient to establish him as a household name decades ago.
However, he defeated Álvarez. Along with Manny Pacquiao, Floyd Mayweather Jr., Oscar De La Hoya, Sugar Ray Leonard, and Thomas Hearns, he is now just the sixth fighter in history to win world titles in five different divisions. Only the third, after Pacquiao and Mayweather, to win four consecutive lineal titles. Since Henry Armstrong in 1938, this man is only the second to become an undisputed champion in three weight classes.
Crawford’s straightforward demeanor and dislike of showmanship have long prevented him from achieving the superstar status that his more flamboyant peers enjoy, so why did it take so long? After ten years of receiving meager compensation for his bouts, Mayweather became the richest athlete in the world after transforming himself from the white-hat Pretty Boy Floyd into a pantomime villain in the middle of his career. Crawford is not familiar with that game. He has allowed his work to speak for itself. It frequently appeared to be a liability in today’s culture, which values volume over substance. It appeared to be the most significant choice he would ever make on Saturday night.
That is the reason why the tears came. Even though defeating Álvarez was the kind of triumph that catapulted him into legendary status, it wasn’t the only thing. The topic was vindication. That the quiet child from a fistic backwater, who was more famous for growing corn than for being a world-class fighter, who led divisions without the recognition they merited, and who fought for years in relative obscurity, was right to stick with it. according to his terms. There’s still some validity to the antiquated notion that if you keep winning, people will eventually notice.
On this particular evening, subtlety triumphed over spectacle and patience over power. It wasn’t the big fight that some fans want or the dramatic conclusion that makes highlight reels. It was a master class in discipline, timing, and angles instead. Crawford demonstrated that sometimes greatness is developed gradually over years of waiting, honing, and refusing to compromise; it doesn’t always come with a bang.
