In boxing, loyalty between fighter and trainer is often celebrated. Canelo Álvarez—one of the sport’s modern greats—put that principle on display after his loss to Terence Crawford. When talk surfaced that he should leave longtime coach Eddy Reynoso, even suggesting he find a Black trainer, Canelo was blunt: “I don’t get to switch trainers; I know what happened, and I’m going to be with my trainers all my life.”
That unwavering stance invites debate. A trainer can shape tactics and extend a career, and many champions have changed corners to rejuvenate their style. Oscar De La Hoya famously turned to Floyd Mayweather Sr. late in his career and found success. Supporters of a Canelo switch argue that a fresh voice might sharpen his approach and recapture his unpredictability.
But there’s more at stake than novelty. Reynoso has guided Canelo from teenage prodigy to multi-division world champion. Their shared system has produced historic wins and helped Canelo adjust through every stage of his career. To assume a different trainer—especially chosen for race—would unlock hidden potential oversimplifies what makes fighters great and what actually wins fights.
Age and miles also matter. At this point, wholesale style changes are difficult. Recent examples, like Deontay Wilder’s uneven results after a late-career coaching change, show the risks. Canelo himself frames the Crawford loss as part of his education, not an indictment of his corner: “I take that fight like I’m learning because of that loss.”
The tension here is universal: growth versus loyalty. Could a new trainer spark a tactical renaissance? Maybe. But loyalty can be a strength, too, preserving chemistry and confidence. Canelo seems intent on the latter—evolving within the team that built him.
Bottom line: calls for a dramatic switch underestimate the depth of the Canelo-Reynoso partnership. For a fighter who has continually adjusted while staying true to his camp, sticking with what works may be the smartest move of all.