USURPERS’ ROW
Makhmudov walked into Fury’s gloves with a high success rate.
in deep water is unparalleled. He finds a way to navigate the storm, using his in-ring voodoo to frustrate Wardley into making a mistake. As the fight enters the championship rounds, the disparity in ring IQ becomes evident. Fury, under the tutelage of SugarHill Steward, reverts to the Kronk style – leaning his vastly bigger frame on the younger man, draining the Ipswich gladiator’s batteries. By the ninth round, Wardley’s face will be a map of Fury’s accuracy. And by the 11th, his tank is empty. Fury doesn’t just win; he orchestrates a finale. Fury by late stoppage, Round 11.
jab, feinting with his shoulders, and talking, always talking. But Kabayel is undeterred. He is a lesson in patience personified. He isn’t biting on the feints. He’s digging in, working the body and moving his head with a rhythmic cadence that is beginning to frustrate the older man. The turning point of the fight comes in Round 7. Fury’s legs, once as nimble as a middleweight’s, look heavy. Kabayel begins to find his range. There is a signature Kabayel assault: a double jab followed by a punishing hook to the ribs that makes Fury wince. The momentum shifts. Kabayel traps Fury against the ropes, a place where The Gypsy King usually thrives, and unleashes a four-punch combination. A right hand catches Fury flush on the temple. The giant staggers. In the end, it isn’t a blowout, but a coronation of sorts. Fury survives the late rounds through sheer, bloody-minded grit and ring craft, clinching and leaning on the smaller man. But Kabayel’s activity is the story. He is younger, fresher, and his engine simply does not stop. Kabayel defeats Fury by unanimous decision: 116-112, 116-112, 115-113.
future. He is the man Frank Warren calls the “natural successor,” and his five-round destruction of Jermaine Franklin in March 2026 has sent shockwaves through the sport. He is a southpaw, he is fast, and he has a mean streak that makes seasoned veterans uncomfortable. He also carries a chilling composure that belies his tender years. If Fury is the Shakespearean lead of this era, Itauma is the cold, calculated screenwriter of the next. In the early rounds, Fury attempts the old magic: He feints, he jabs, he leans, trying to manhandle the youngster. But Itauma is a different breed of cat. He doesn’t panic. He works the body with a left hand that sounds like a whip cracking in the night. In the fourth, the speed gap becomes a chasm. Itauma’s hand speed, reminiscent of a young Mike Tyson but with the reach of Muhammad Ali, begins to pierce the guard. A lead right hook catches Fury on the temple, and for a second, the world stands still. The Gypsy King’s legs momentarily buckle. By the seventh, the narrative is written. Fury, brave but exhausted by the relentless, surgical pressure, is backed into the corner. Itauma unleashes a three-punch salvo with a straight left, right hook and a devastating uppercut that doesn’t just floor the champion; it closes a chapter of the sport. Fury rises, ever the gentleman in defeat, and kisses the forehead of the boy who had just dismantled his kingdom. The King is dead. Long live the King. They have said it is too early for Moses, but perhaps it is too late for Tyson. Itauma’s hand speed is the differentiator. In 2026, Fury’s reflexes have slowed by a fraction of a second, and in this game, that’s an eternity. Itauma wins by stoppage, marking the official end of the Fury era.
more than a fight; it is a collision of eras. And styles. This would be a domestic dustup for the ages. Wardley fights with a frantic, high- octane energy. Fury loves a fighter who comes to him, as it allows him to counterpunch and use his 6-foot-9 frame to negate the distance. Will Fury’s legs hold out for one last assault, or is Wardley the man to finally close the curtain on The Gypsy King’s time in the sport? In one corner, the 38-year- old Fury – an enigma of feints and psychological warfare. In the other, Wardley, the man who came from the white-collar wilderness to upset Joseph Parker in a brutal, bloody symphony of violence late last year.
FURY VS. KABAYEL On this night, Fury finally finds a tune he can’t quite dance to. Kabayel is the division’s most underrated operator, and his 2025 knockout of Zhilei Zhang proved that he isn’t just a technician; he has the spite to finish world- class opponents. He is a relentless German machine, a man who spent 2023-2025 dismantling the division’s boogeymen (including Makhmudov) with the clinical efficiency of a master watchmaker. It is the dance of the giant and the giant-slayer. Kabayel is disciplined and works the body with a surgical precision that Fury has rarely faced. Kabayel’s feet are his best attribute; he moves in and out of range with a fluidity that belies his size. This is the type of fight Fury used to win in his sleep, but in 2026, the work rate of a younger man like Kabayel becomes a major problem. If Kabayel can take the air out of Fury’s lungs, he can win. The opening rounds become a testing ground. Fury is pumping that telescopic
of clinches, flicking that long jab into the younger man’s face. But this is not the Dubois of old. In the early rounds, Dubois shows a ferocious maturity. He refuses to be mentally checked out by Fury’s taunts, targeting the body with thudding hooks. The fight changes in the seventh round, Fury landing a combination: left hook, a deceptive uppercut and a straight right that sends Dubois’ head snapping back. In 2020, the Londoner might have folded. But in 2026, DDD simply smiles through a crimson mask and marches forward. He is 28, in his physical prime, and possesses a jab that feels like a telephone pole hitting you in the mouth. This is Fury’s nightmare. Dubois doesn’t care about the feints or the psychological games. He is a simplified, upgraded version of himself, carrying power. Fury tries to tie him up, lean on
him and kill the rhythm. But the Dubois of 2026 is too explosive. Eventually, a short hook finds the mark. Dubois attempts to overwhelm Fury by sheer physicality. But Fury hangs on in the final rounds, clinching with Dubois for a narrow points victory.
Wardley is an old-school fighter. He fights with a visceral, jagged edge that reminds one of the rugged brawlers of the past. His victory over Parker wasn’t just a win; it was a statement of intent. Wardley is unconventional, a man who shouldn’t be as good as he is, but he possesses a doggedness that cannot be taught. But against Fury? Does it work? Perhaps not. Fury is the siren song of the division. He lures you in with the jab, gets in your ear during the clinch, and then disappears before you can counter. Wardley starts with ferocity and that explosive right hand, attempting to catch Fury early. There are moments when The Gypsy King looks every bit a fighter with two decades of wear and tear under his belt. Wardley has moments of success, rocking Fury in the mid-rounds. But Fury’s experience
FURY VS. ITAUMA The young, hungry lion in a changing-of-the-guard fight. Will this be Itauma’s moment? Fury, returning from his latest dalliance with retirement, enters the ring with the familiar theatrics – the throne, the crown, the booming echoes of “Sweet Caroline.” But the midsection is a little softer, the movement a fraction less mercurial than the man who once danced circles around Wladimir Klitschko. At 21, Moses Itauma is the terrifying
FURY VS. WARDLEY After dismantling Makhmudov with the effortless grace of a matador, Fury now turns his gaze toward Ipswich powerhouse Fabio Wardley. This is
Gareth A Davies is the boxing correspondent for The London Telegraph and talkSPORT.
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