In the world of boxing, comparisons serve as a valuable tool for understanding a fighter’s abilities and potential legacy. However, the recent remarks made by promoter Eddie Hearn, who likened Shakur Stevenson to the legendary Sugar Ray Leonard, deserve critical examination. While Hearn’s intentions may have been to elevate Stevenson’s status, such comparisons can often do more harm than good, particularly when they lack substantive backing.
When we think of the greats in boxing like Sugar Ray Leonard, we often recall their remarkable accomplishments—Leonard’s two bouts against formidable opponents like Roberto Duran and Tommy Hearns are part of boxing folklore. By setting the bar so high, Hearn risks undermining Stevenson’s achievements, insinuating a level of excellence that simply doesn’t exist in the same way for Stevenson. Indeed, despite possessing an impressive record of 22 wins, including 10 knockouts, claiming he shares any resemblance to Leonard is not only premature but misrepresentative of what Leonard accomplished at a similar stage in his career.
Leonard’s era was marked by fierce competition, where he sought fights with the best available challengers, usually moving up and down weight classes to find worthy opponents. Stevenson, by contrast, has garnered criticism for being selective with his fights in the lightweight division, grappling with why he cannot land matches against top-tier opponents, as Leonard deftly did, even under challenging circumstances. This selective engagement could imply a certain level of protectionism, which is far removed from the relentless pursuit of greatness that defined Leonard’s career.
Eddie Hearn’s comments about Stevenson being a “three-division world champion” raise the question of what it actually means to be a world champion in today’s boxing universe. In a landscape where various belts can be shared among multiple fighters, the term “world champion” loses some of its weight. Critics argue that without significant defenses against top-tier opponents, championships can feel more like consolation prizes than proof of greatness.
Shakur Stevenson’s upcoming title defense against Josh Padley, a late replacement for the originally scheduled Floyd Schofield, further complicates this narrative. Padley, with a record of 15-0 but only 4 knockouts, does not inspire the same level of excitement or fear that fighters like Duran or Hearns would. If Stevenson is indeed cut from a similar cloth as Leonard, why is he relegated to facing less established competition?
As Stevenson heads toward his 28th birthday in June, mere title-holding won’t suffice. To be mentioned alongside boxing greats such as Leonard, Marvin Hagler, or even contemporaries like Mayweather and Pernell Whitaker, Stevenson must seek the sort of high-stakes matchups that define legacies. Hearn’s assertion that Stevenson has barely scratched the surface of his capabilities may be true, but the onus is on Stevenson to challenge himself against elite fighters and prove that he can rise to meet those expectations.
The promotion surrounding Stevenson’s upcoming fight with Padley might generate viewer curiosity, but it pales in comparison to the excitement that would accompany a match against a well-known contender. It’s easy to see how such a lack of competition impacts public perception of Stevenson’s abilities, leading many to regard him as little more than a “simple belt holder” rather than a serious contender for the ranks of boxing legends.
It’s crucial for both promoters and fighters to recognize the implications of comparisons drawn in public discourse. Pavement-pounding assessments allow for a clearer path to greatness. If Stevenson aspires to etch his name in boxing’s storied lineage, he must step up, seek out challenging opponents, and allow his talent to shine in the crucible of high-stakes boxing. In doing so, perhaps one day he could earn himself a comparison to the greats, but until then, it’s a hope rather than a reality.