I’ve covered boxing for nearly twenty years, and I can tell you straight up: the sport I love is in trouble. When Gervonta “Tank” Davis recently said boxing is “officially un-alive” and hinted he’ll retire after this year, it didn’t shock me—it just confirmed what I’ve been seeing from ringside and from my analyst’s chair for a long time.
Tank dropped that bombshell during a conversation that felt less like serious sports talk and more like a reality-show confession. He made it clear he plans to step away soon, even though most fans think he’s still in his prime. The timing speaks volumes. His next appearance isn’t a title defense or a legacy fight—it’s an exhibition against social-media star Jake Paul. Call it a business move, call it a spectacle, but let’s not call it the kind of matchup that built boxing’s reputation. It’s the latest sign that money headlines are replacing meaningful competition.
I’m not naïve. Fighters have every right to cash in. But I remember when getting paid went hand in hand with proving something in the ring. Today, too many bouts are negotiated on Twitter instead of signed on paper. Look at the endless online jabs between Tank and Shakur Stevenson. They trade insults, rack up views, and then… nothing. No contract, no fight date. Fans are left scrolling through trash talk instead of watching two elite talents settle it under the lights.
This is what I call the high-school effect. Boxing gyms used to be filled with fighters obsessed with greatness. Now it feels like the lunchroom: cliques, rumors, and popularity contests. Social media has turned some of our best athletes into influencers first and competitors second.
The fans have changed too. One month Canelo Alvarez is celebrated as the sport’s standard-bearer, and the next he’s trending for all the wrong reasons, with critics ready to abandon him at the first bad headline. Loyalty used to be earned in the ring and rewarded over time. Today, support can vanish with a single swipe.
What’s happening reminds me of the music world I grew up watching. Think of the days when rap rivalries like Biggie and Tupac or Jay-Z and Nas created songs that still echo decades later. Those battles delivered art and history. Now imagine if they had ended with nothing more than a few Instagram Lives. That’s where boxing is drifting: endless talk, no classic fights to show for it.
Tank Davis says he’s almost done. Maybe he means it, maybe it’s leverage—but either way, it’s a warning. If a fighter’s heart isn’t in it, stepping away is the right call. I respect that honesty. What worries me is what it reveals about the sport itself. Boxing was built on passion, dedication, and the thrill of competition. When even its brightest stars feel the game is “unalive,” that’s more than one man’s retirement plan. It’s a message to everyone who cares about the future of the fight game.
I’ll keep calling it like I see it, because boxing deserves better than a slow fade into social-media theater. Whether Tank’s words spark a revival or mark the start of a long decline depends on what fighters, promoters, and fans choose to do next.