Question: Does boxing need saving? 

Dana White, that foul-mouthed carnival barker from the UFC; Turki Alalshikh, the Saudi showman with a bottomless oil wallet; and their corporate overlords at TKO Group Holdings think so, but they’re not here to save boxing. They’re here to colonize it, strip it bare, and rebuild it in the image of a scripted wrestling ring or a pay-per-view meat grinder. And the kicker? They’re using the very shield meant to protect fighters—the Muhammad Ali Boxing Reform Act—as their battering ram to do it. This isn’t evolution; it’s exploitation, plain and simple. If Muhammad Ali were alive today, he’d be floating like a butterfly right into Congress to slap this scam down.

Let’s start with Dana White, the guy who turned mixed martial arts into a global ATM but treats his own fighters like disposable action figures. For years, he’s sneered at boxing as a dying sport run by scumbags, all while quietly plotting his invasion. That starts now, through Zuffa Boxing, his pet project under TKO. He’s co-piloting this takeover with Alalshikh, announcing mega-events like Canelo Álvarez vs. Terence Crawford at Allegiant Stadium just last month. 

Even though Canelo and Crawford are not a part of any league, the fight at Allegiant felt like an inaugural card for their new league, streamed on Netflix, hyped as a revolution. But don’t kid yourself: White’s playbook is as predictable as his post-fight rants. Stacked undercards of prospects beating each other bloody for crumbs, exclusive contracts that lock talent in for years, and a unified title system that sounds noble until you realize it’s just code for TKO owning the belts, the rankings, and the narrative

Dana wants to reimagine boxing globally, but what he’s really reimagining is a monopoly where fighters fight on his terms—or not at all. White’s already got a track record of paying UFC journeymen peanuts; $2,000 to take brain-rattling shots. All while he and his billionaire buddies rake it in. Now he wants to import that misery to boxing? Hell no. This guy’s not a savior; he’s a vulture in a tracksuit, circling for the carcass.

Enter Turki Alalshikh, the velvet-gloved dictator of Saudi Arabia’s entertainment empire, who’s been buying up boxing’s biggest nights like they’re knockoff Rolexes at a flea market. Sure, he’s delivered fireworks, massive Riyadh cards with Fury-Usyk rematches and the like, but at what cost? Lifeless desert arenas packed with state-subsidized spectators, fights shipped overseas to launder a regime’s image, and a flood of cash that drowns out any pretense of meritocracy. 

Alalshikh’s not some benevolent fanboy; he’s the chairman of the General Entertainment Authority, backed by the Public Investment Fund, turning combat sports into soft power propaganda. 

Partnering with TKO and Sela to launch this “premier platform” for prospects? It’s a Trojan horse for total control.

He’s the money man, sure, but he’s also the muscle, strong-arming promoters like Eddie Hearn into line and now teaming with White to host freak-show hybrids: UFC, WWE, and boxing jammed onto one Saudi card by 2026.

Turki’s revolution isn’t about the fight game; it’s about exporting Riyadh’s spectacle to the world, where boxers become pawns in a geopolitical chess match. I don’t even think Dana and Turki like each other, this alliance is a marriage of convenience.

Then there’s TKO Group Holdings, the Endeavor-engineered behemoth that swallowed UFC and WWE whole, now belching out Zuffa Boxing as its latest indigestion. This isn’t a promotion; it’s a predator. They’ve locked in Paramount+ for 12 cards starting in 2026, with CBS simulcasts to lure in the masses, all while teasing athlete combines and access to UFC’s Performance Institute.

Sounds innovative? It’s predatory. TKO’s vision: streamlined weight classes, a single-entity league that mirrors the UFC’s cage, where fighters sign away their futures for a shot at glory that rarely materializes. Insiders are screaming power grab, because it is: barriers for small promoters, TKO-dominated Unified Boxing Organizations (UBOs) that sideline the WBC, WBA, and WBO, and even clashes where those sanctioning bodies banned TKO reps from ringside at Canelo-Crawford.

Ari Emanuel, TKO’s shadowy CEO, is the real puppet master here, lobbying Congress with Saudi cash to “modernize” the sport while consolidating power. Oh and Boxing’s fractured foundation?

They are not fixing they’re fracking it for profit.

Here’s the gut punch: the Muhammad Ali Boxing Reform Act, the 2000 law that Ali himself championed to shield fighters from the very exploitation these clowns embody. Born from the Don King era’s rigged rankings, coercive contracts, and promoter-manager scams, the Ali Act bans monopolies on titles, mandates transparency in purse bids, and keeps a firewall between promoters and managers, so there are no financial entanglements that could screw over the little guy.  It was supposed to ensure boxers could thrive in an open market, not get funneled into one promoter’s meat grinder. But TKO’s gunning to gut it. They’re pushing the so-called Muhammad Ali American Boxing Revival Act, a bipartisan bill from reps Brian Jack and Sharice Davids that’s nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

The Bill is touted as having enhancements for more opportunities and safety; in reality it carves out loopholes for UBOs, TKO’s private fiefdoms. letting them bypass sanctioning bodies, lock in exclusive deals, and pay four-round prospects as low as $600 while claiming it’s a revival.

Lonnie Ali’s endorsement? A heartbreaking betrayal of The Greatest’s legacy, co-opted by lobbyists who know the price of everything and the value of nothing.

This isn’t reform; it’s repeal by stealth. TKO wants to UFC-ify boxing—fighters as independent contractors with zero bargaining power, titles as corporate trademarks, and Congress as their enabler. If this passes, kiss goodbye to the chaotic beauty of boxing’s free market; hello to a cookie-cutter product where the house always wins.

Boxing’s always been a brutal ballet of underdogs and kings, where a kid from the streets could rope-a-dope his way to immortality. White, Alalshikh, and TKO? They’re the new kings, crowning themselves with petrodollars and political pull, ready to turn prizefighters into page-view props. We’ve seen this movie: UFC’s empire built on broken bodies and buried dreams. Don’t let them rewrite boxing’s script. Fighters, fans, call your local reps and tell them the Ali Act isn’t a relic; it’s a lifeline. And to the trio at the top: Step off.

By Vincent 

Photo courtesy of Zuffa Boxing

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