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Yahoo
21 minutes ago
- Yahoo
'This is a power grab': What boxing insiders really think about planned revisions to Ali Act
More than a dozen insiders in boxing — from promoters to fighters, coaches, and experts across the business in logistics, broadcast and law — are divided over a fast-moving piece of federal legislation that could reshape the sport in the U.S. Some told Uncrowned it's a long-overdue modernization that boosts fighter welfare and injects fresh capital into a stagnating market. Most, though, warn it's a Trojan horse for monopoly power, designed to strip away the Muhammad Ali Boxing Reform Act's core protections while concentrating control in the hands of a single promoter. That promoter is likely TKO Group Holdings, parent company of the UFC, which supports a bill co-sponsored by the U.S. Representatives Brian Jack (R-GA) and Sharice Davids (D-KS), a former MMA fighter. They've pitched the Muhammad Ali American Revival Act as a way to give boxers 'more opportunities, better pay, and greater safety standards.' A UFC spokesperson told ESPN in July that it's a 'thoughtful solution' that offers 'more choices and opportunities, greater health and safety protections, and better pay for up-and-coming fighters.' On a later investor call, TKO executives insisted the Ali Act remains intact — but said the bill introduces a new category alongside the existing sanctioning bodies: The Unified Boxing Organization, or UBO. A UBO would run its own rankings, crown its own champions, and stage its own events — a self-contained circuit that could, in theory, sit alongside the WBA, WBC, WBO and IBF. All sources that Uncrowned spoke to received anonymity to speak freely. 'This is a power grab,' one industry insider said. TKO and UFC executives have stressed that they're not changing the wording of the Ali Act, but instead amending the Professional Boxing Safety Act of 1996. Critics say that distinction is exactly the point. By existing under a prospective 'UBO' category, a promoter could run a fully sanctioned boxing league without having to comply with the Ali Act's rules — no requirement to disclose fight purses, ticket sales or broadcast revenue to athletes, and no firewall between promoter, sanctioning body and rankings. 'UBO basically means they just get to be the UFC in boxing without having to abide by the Ali Act disclosures,' one source said. Another warned: 'If they don't have to comply [with the Ali Act], then it's an unfair advantage over every other promoter.' Not everyone sees the bill as a threat to sport, though. Andy Foster, executive officer of the California State Athletic Commission — one of the most influential regulators in the U.S. — told "The Ariel Helwani Show" last week that he believes a well-financed company with broadcast muscle entering boxing lifts the sport, rather than buries others operating within it. 'Any time you get a big corporation that is well-financed, and has good broadcast deals — that's good for fighters,' Foster said. 'I expect a broadcast deal, for it to be televised, and I expect it will be good for American boxers. It will make stars out of people we normally wouldn't have seen.' Foster pointed to the UFC's track record in MMA as proof of what sustained investment and promotion can do for athlete visibility. 'Go back to 2004 or 2005, 'The Ultimate Fighter' with Forrest Griffin and Stephan Bonnar. Go back then and see how it has progressed. If it can do 5% of that, boxing will be benefitted.' One area in which UFC progressed MMA beyond boxing is the construction of its Performance Institutes. This reporter toured the Las Vegas facility multiple times, which is open to any athlete from any sport. Uncrowned has seen boxers there, WNBA stars and football players. While other sportspeople have to pay for its use, anyone on the UFC roster gets rehabilitation, strength and conditioning, and their nutrition taken care of for free. The UFC is in the red $7 million every year for keeping the facility running, one P.I. exec said. There is nothing like this in boxing. Any boxer who joins TKO's venture would be privy to that facility and the state-of-the-art departments within it. It is a significant benefit to an up-and-coming fighter who is perhaps overlooked in, or discarded from, the current system. Foster continued by avoiding weighing in on the business-side changes or Ali Act exemptions, and strongly supports the bill's welfare provisions, especially for lower-paid boxers. 'Ali Act is decided by seven-figure boxers,' he said. 'This bill sets a national minimum, insurance requirements, medical requirements. In my view, these are good things that will help low-income boxers.' California already has the highest minimum in the country — $200 a round — a standard Foster says works fine. The proposed $600 minimum for a four-round fight is, in his view, 'more than reasonable,' and wouldn't put regional promoters out of business. 'If people should be making $150 a round, or more, and have insurance … this should happen,' Foster finished. Other industry voices echo that optimism. One Uncrowned source said the bill could push the sport toward higher standards, even if it forces smaller players to adapt, or bow out entirely. 'This law will put pressure to raise the standards, but it will be hard for a small promoter to keep a guy who can get better money, services, and insurance elsewhere,' they said. 'Fighters deserve that. They deserve more than $150 a round, really.' This source cited what they saw as parallels to how UFC built its ecosystem in MMA. 'They didn't get rid of low-level promoters — they co-opted them and fed them talent. If they're successful, they may be making opportunities for others. UFC spawned PFL — it may spawn others.' But for most of the insiders Uncrowned spoke to, the risks far outweigh the potential gains. One promoter was blunt about boxing's fragile state: 'It would be crazy to not set up boxing so you could do that,' they said. 'The sport is on life support right now.' Their biggest worry is the disappearing television deals. The sport is yet to replace the absence of premium broadcasters HBO, Showtime Sports, and most recently, ESPN. This has led the sport to a near-wasteland, if it weren't for DAZN. Top Rank is scrambling for a partner. Premier Boxing Champions is reduced to a half-dozen shows a year on Prime Video, despite a significant roster. Without television, this source said, no promoter can sustain a UFC-style system. 'I don't see how the sport is sustainable without TV,' that source said, adding that disappearing broadcast revenue across the board is a far greater problem for boxing than whatever TKO has planned. And even if a company like TKO secures a lucrative broadcast deal, smaller promoters already feel squeezed out by the cost of staging shows. 'Buying slots on other promoters' cards is cheaper than running your own card,' this source said. 'It's a huge problem.' Others frame the bill's supposed welfare improvements as a marketing sleight-of-hand. A veteran boxing coach dismissed the minimum pay and insurance provisions as window dressing: 'Every fight you do already has insurance,' this source said. 'Are you putting lipstick on a pig? It's still a pig!' A boxing manager Uncrowned spoke to was unimpressed by the proposed floor of $150 per round because, as they said, '$150 is low. We can make more money than that in a four-round fight [for our lower-level fighters].' One millionaire boxer, who has yet to take part in a title fight, told Uncrowned their own experience under their current promoters has been exemplary. 'My promoter has paid me very well,' they said. 'I'd have no intention to leave for the payment scale TKO is suggesting.' For others, the issue is less about pay and more about power. A legal expert said the bill's creation of Unified Boxing Organizations would remove the single biggest check on a promoter's influence — the Ali Act's transparency requirements. The same source flagged an even deeper concern — that a UBO could merge the role of promoter and sanctioning body: 'Who decides who fights who [in this scenario]?' They said the bill is 'tailored to let the UFC do to boxing what it does in MMA — without obeying the Ali Act.' They then questioned whether this would help the U.S. market at all, particularly if fighters progressed through a TKO league, only for finals to end up on Riyadh Season, far away from the States. 'How does this help American boxing? How does it revive the American market?' That sentiment — that this is more about control than reform — came up repeatedly in Uncrowned's conversations. One boardroom executive said flatly that legislative changes only serve to 'benefit the people who have put the changes in, obviously, for their own benefit.' They questioned why a UBO would be exempt from disclosing revenues to fighters: 'Why? That's why that model, that business, is so much more successful than boxing — because 80% or more of the revenue isn't going out the window from the get-go.' They predicted the UFC's 'take-it-or-leave-it' negotiating style will come with it into boxing. 'If you don't like it, then don't fight.' That, they said, is a fundamental shift from how boxing contracts currently work: 'In our contracts, minimums are just where you start. No one actually fights for the minimum.' Another industry veteran called the bill 'a problem in search of a problem,' adding: 'I fail to see anything good about it. Even the four-rounders [with major promoters] are getting $6,000–$10,000 … so $150 a round is an embarrassment.' This source said that removing the firewall between promoters, rankings, and managers would allow promoters to control who gets title shots, and who doesn't. When it's 'completely within the promoters' control' it becomes 'an illusory process,' they said. In this source's view, fighters would be giving up their only protections in exchange for scraps at the table. 'Trading [existing] protections for $150 a round and $25,000 of insurance doesn't make sense.' And if the structure mirrors UFC's in MMA, they warned, boxing will be 'UFC-ified' within five years, and lead to 'all-consuming control of a fighter's career by the promoter.' From the legal side, the most troubling detail for multiple sources is that a UBO could bypass key provisions in the Muhammad Ali Act. Under the Ali Act, promoters must disclose to fighters 'the amounts of any compensation, all fees and charges,' as well as purse and gate figures. To qualify that point, Uncrowned has heard from key decision-makers time and again at numerous marquee Las Vegas events, from Saul "Canelo" Alvarez's shows, to Errol Spence vs. Terence Crawford and heavyweight spectacles, that even a media budget — from hiring a room for press conferences and other activations throughout the week, to food and beverages — are signed off by the headlining fighters. Those athletes have complete oversight and awareness of what all costs are related to their events, and where every dollar goes. That requirement — found in Section 13 of the Ali Act — would not apply to a UBO. The same expert pointed to Section 11, which grants fighters the right to appeal rankings decisions. UBOs, he said, would not have to honor that. 'The promoter also being the sanctioning body — [this is the] biggest problem people have' because there are appeals processes in the Ali Act, but 'a UBO is not going to have to do that.' Without those protections, this source warned, rankings could be manipulated to lock fighters into long-term deals, with those same fighters being told by an UBO: 'Look, you're getting paid what it says [and] not a penny more.' This source argued that fighter pay minimums under the bill are meaningless in practice: '$25,000 medical [is a] modest improvement, at best; $150 a round [is] inconsequential. You can't even get opponents for that.' And the business model, this source suggested, is designed to dominate the top of the sport. 'Antitrust is when you control all top fighters and the title — that's monopoly.' The endgame, the source said, is for a TV deal paid by boxing financier Turki Alalshikh, a key partner for TKO in boxing, for which TKO get a flat fee. The same source predicted that if the bill passes, other promoters might rush to form their own UBOs — flooding the sport with new titles and further diluting championships. 'What's to stop every other promoter from forming one? Twenty UBO belts is even crazier [than the situation we have right now].' And even if the first UBO is built in the U.S., he said, the real business plan may lie overseas. It is contrary to a revival of American boxing if the biggest bouts from this prospective venture heads to Riyadh, the source said. For this source, and for many of the bill's critics that Uncrowned spoke to, the bottom line is simple: 'Anyone on the business side who is for this is either delusional, ignorant … or getting something,' one source said. Whether the Muhammad Ali American Revival Act becomes law may depend less on the boxing industry's divided opinion than on the political and financial momentum behind it. TKO Group Holdings has the resources, relationships and lobbying muscle to push the bill through Congress, and multiple sources told Uncrowned they doubt there's enough organized opposition to stop it. 'No way this bill won't pass without major uproar,' one source said, 'and not enough people care,' they finished. If passed, the legislation could open the door to a new kind of promotional monopoly in boxing — one that mirrors the UFC's model in MMA, where a single company controls matchmaking, titles, rankings and broadcast rights. To some, that's a nightmare scenario that undermines decades of hard-fought protections for fighters. To others, it's a chance to inject stability, marketing muscle and mainstream visibility into a fragmented sport struggling to connect with casual fans. The split in opinion reflects a deeper truth about boxing in 2025 — this is a sport that is independent but vulnerable. Its best nights still generate global attention and life-changing purses. But those nights are few and far between as the business is too fractured, and the financial stakes make it an irresistible target for corporate consolidation. Whether the bill ushers in a new era of opportunity or accelerates the sport's decline will depend on how — and by whom — the first Unified Boxing Organization is built. If history is any guide, the fighters who step through the ropes will feel the consequences long before the rest of us do.
Yahoo
3 hours ago
- Yahoo
6 Chiefs won't practice on Tuesday; Steve Spagnuolo weighs in
Ahead of their practice at their home facility at the Truman Sports Complex on Tuesday, the Kansas City Chiefs listed six players who would not take the field due to injury or illness: linebacker Jack Cochrane (knee bruise), offensive lineman Ethan Driskell (appendectomy), safety Mike Edwards (hamstring), cornerback Nazeeh Johnson (shoulder), defensive tackle Omarr Norman-Lott (ankle) and wide receiver Jalen Royals (knee). Late Monday afternoon, Kansas City placed defensive end Felix Anudike-Uzomah on the Reserve/Injured list. Even though he is practicing, cornerback Kristian Fulton has yet to play in a preseason game as he recovers from offseason knee surgery. 'Well, the unknown is Kristian right now because we haven't had him out there,' said defensive coordinator Steve Spagnuolo. 'Jaylen [Watson] has missed some time, and now we've got [Johnson], who is a little dinged up. More than any group on the defense, that back end has to have a lot of continuity, and that comes with reps. So with a couple of different moving pieces, there's a little bit of concern there, so hopefully we can start to gel that together.' The Chiefs play their final game of the 2025 preseason against the Chicago Bears at home on Friday at 7:20 p.m. Arrowhead Time. Chiefs head coach Andy Reid has already confirmed that the starters will see playing time.
New York Times
10 hours ago
- New York Times
Why Kansas legend Jacque Vaughn is back at KU after 2 stints as an NBA head coach
LAWRENCE, Kan. — When he starred at Kansas in the late 1990s, Jacque Vaughn always wore a rubber band around his left wrist. Not just on the court, but everywhere. A bad turnover? Snap. Grammatical mistake on a paper? Snap. Vaughn held himself to a high standard because everyone else saw him as the standard. Advertisement Ryan Robertson, his backup at point guard, said Vaughn was the only person in basketball he ever looked up to. 'There wasn't anything about Jacque,' Robertson said, 'that I didn't like.' Roy Williams has this folksy way of telling you that his players are like his children; it's hard to pick a favorite. But then he starts talking about Vaughn, the Big 12 Player of the Year and an Academic All-American as a senior. When Williams showed up at a Kansas City hospital at 6 a.m. for Vaughn's wrist surgery in his senior year, the nurse told him there was a 'problem.' His entire team had shown up. 'One of the finest kids and the finest gentleman I've ever known in my life,' Williams said. In May, when Vaughn called Williams to ask if he should return to his alma mater to be an assistant coach at Kansas, Williams told him to 'take the dadgum thing.' So he did: 28 years after he left Lawrence for a life in the pros, Vaughn made his official return to KU as the newest member of Bill Self's coaching staff. At 50 years old, the two-time NBA head coach is now coaching in college for the first time. 'Jacque Vaughn needs to be in coaching,' Williams said. 'He needs to be able to touch young people because he's experienced so many different things.' Vaughn didn't put up great stats during his NBA career — only 4.5 points and 2.5 assists per game — but Williams said the reason his former pupil lasted 12 years in the league is because 'every coach loved having him around.' That's because Vaughn's goal was to be someone his teammates could depend on. It's why every offseason, he was obsessed with getting in the best shape possible, working out multiple times a day for seven days a week. But it's also why he retired in 2009, despite San Antonio Spurs coach Gregg Popovich calling to see if he still wanted to play. That summer, Vaughn's body had started barking back. It was getting hard to put in the work. And for the first time, his mind wasn't consumed with basketball. Advertisement Popovich wouldn't take no for an answer. He told Vaughn to get to San Antonio, and they'd figure out what he wanted to do. It turns out that it was coaching. Vaughn climbed the ranks from there, earning his first head-coaching job three years later with the Orlando Magic. He lasted two-and-a-half seasons, then became a head coach again — as an interim — with the Brooklyn Nets at the end of the 2019-20 season, before returning to his assistant spot the next year. Then in 2022-23, Vaughn became the Nets' interim coach again after Brooklyn fired Steve Nash — and the second time, he had the interim tag dropped. But coaching in the NBA often comes with a short shelf life. Fired 54 games into the 2023-24 season, Vaughn had a chance to let his mind relax for the first time … maybe ever. He and his wife moved to a home they'd purchased during the pandemic in Paradise Valley, Ariz. They were empty nesters for the first time, too, with both sons at the University of Miami. Without a job for the first time in his adult life, Vaughn took the opportunity to work on his golf game, listen to podcasts (His favorite podcast is 'Founders,' which dives deep on people who've created successful companies) and spend time with his wife. Then in March, he experienced his favorite memory of his year away. For 27 years, he'd been in the NBA as a coach or player — meaning he never had the chance to really watch the NCAA Tournament. So he sat on his couch and tuned in to every game. He watched for the joy of it, but also started thinking ahead, pulling concepts he could use once he returned to coaching. It was nice to have that free time, but something else started to nudge at him. 'I wanted to be depended on.' On the final day of summer practices at his alma mater, Vaughn wears a red Kansas basketball shirt and a smile. He's grateful to be here, at a place where he feels like he can make a difference. Will be given the time to make a difference. 'I do think we're guardians of the next generation,' he said. 'And I do love being a part of that.' Advertisement Vaughn was given the chance to have a full-circle moment in his life when Kansas assistant Norm Roberts retired earlier this spring. Self immediately targeted Vaughn for the job. Considering it had been over two decades since Self last hired a top-three assistant from outside his coaching tree — Kurtis Townsend in 2004 — it was obvious how badly he wanted to bring back the former Jayhawk. Still, Vaughn had to weigh the offer against two others: an associate head coach and lead assistant, both in the NBA. NBA assistants leaving to become college head coaches has become a trend — like Kevin Young at BYU, Alex Jensen at Utah and Luke Loucks at Florida State — but Vaughn's offer was to be an assistant, not a head coach. His brother-in-law questioned why he'd even consider such a move. Vaughn remembered a line he used to share with players sent from the NBA to the G-League: 'You're not going down; you're going over.' And Self didn't hire Vaughn just for the PR bump of bringing a storied alumnus with NBA coaching experience home. Vaughn aligns exactly with what it seems Kansas needs. The Jayhawks underwent a necessary makeover this offseason. The last two seasons have been the worst of Self's 22 in Lawrence, with last year as the spoiled cherry on top. KU had its lowest finish in the Big 12 under Self (sixth), its lowest NCAA Tournament seed (7) and lost in the first round for the first time since 2006. The Jayhawks weren't built for the modern game — not enough shooting or athleticism — and they'd struggled to find good fits in the transfer portal. Self retooled the roster with athletic players who fit his playing style. An early look at the Jayhawks resembles a mini-Oklahoma City Thunder, with Darryn Peterson — the top player in the 2025 class, and a favorite to go No. 1 in the 2026 NBA Draft — filling the Shai Gilgeous-Alexander role. Self surrounded his stud freshman with bigger guards and wings spacing the floor, all of whom are capable of slashing and punishing closeouts. Self talks about Peterson in a way he's never talked about any other freshman before, perhaps similar to how Williams once saw a young Vaughn in the summer of 1993. (Vaughn became the first freshman to be a full-time starter for Williams.) Who better to help mentor someone like Peterson than a guy who has walked in his shoes? Advertisement 'He's certainly not above rolling his sleeves up, putting in hours. All those sorts of things that maybe you would think an NBA head coach would be,' Self said. 'He likes to work, he loves this place, and he's terrific on the court.' Asked who he called to vet Vaughn before officially signing him, Self was taken aback. 'I didn't talk to anybody about him,' the 62-year-old said. 'I talked to Jacque.' Vaughn's time in the Spurs ecosystem meant Self knew they spoke the same basketball language. Vaughn comes from Popovich's coaching tree, while Popovich comes from Larry Brown's coaching tree … as does Self, who Brown hired for his first college coaching job in 1985. On top of that, one of Self's best friends — and his old roommate at KU in the '80s — is R.C. Buford, the architect of the Spurs dynasty. 'The basketball world is two blocks long,' Vaughn said. Self and Vaughn's shared Spurs connections have already materialized on the court. On the final practice of KU's summer session, Self referenced one of the Spurs' greatest contributions to basketball: the 0.5 rule, which requires a player to make a decision — shoot, pass or drive — in a half a second. 'Jacque,' Self said, 'point five is that what they called it?' 'Point five,' Vaughn confirmed. A reminder to the KU players of the company they now keep. As the final summer practice finishes, Vaughn hangs around and rebounds for Peterson as he shoots free throws. He then goes to everyone left in the gym before he exits. It's subtle, but that simple act exemplifies why Vaughn felt called to coaching: Because he's always felt like he could relate to every teammate he's had or player he's coached. 'I can take a guy, we can go eat at the White House, or we can eat at White Castle and be OK doing both,' Vaughn said. 'Every player that I've coached, every person that I have come in contact with organization-wise, I always wanted to leave an impression of how I made them feel.' Advertisement Detroit Pistons guard Caris LeVert is one of those players. LeVert played for Vaughn in Brooklyn and was assigned to Vaughn as his developmental coach. LeVert said Vaughn was so good in that role that other teammates would get jealous they weren't in his group. LeVert questions whether he would have lasted as long as he has in the league — he's entering his 10th season — if not for Vaughn. LeVert prided himself on being a gym rat, but he was overdoing it as a rookie, showing up late at night and not getting the proper rest. Vaughn got through to LeVert that the season was a journey as opposed to a sprint, and he could still get in extra work but do so in a more efficient manner. 'He's someone who's gonna be there good, bad, ugly, and he was not afraid to tell the truth,' LeVert said. 'In this business, you run across a lot of people who kind of try to massage the truth; JV is someone who would give it to you straight.' Vaughn's humility also stuck with LeVert and Jalen Wilson, the former Kansas wing who also played for Vaughn in Brooklyn. When Vaughn was promoted to head coach, instead of reassigning the players he worked with to an assistant, Vaughn continued with his group. 'Most coaches may sit on the side or coach from the side,' Wilson said. 'He was right there sweating with us.' Wilson said he created an atmosphere where it didn't feel like there was a hierarchy. 'JV is one of the best motivators that I played for,' LeVert said. 'For me, he was more than a coach; he was more like a big brother. … He knows how to talk to that age of players. He's somebody who can talk to anybody. When JV walks into a room, you know JV's in a room.' Some theorize the reason KU brought Vaughn back was to become Self's successor. Self, who will turn 63 in December, was hospitalized last month and had two stents inserted, and he previously missed the 2023 NCAA Tournament after undergoing a heart procedure. He has returned to work and said Friday that he could coach a game tomorrow if KU had one. Advertisement As for a succession plan … 'Absolutely not remotely in mind,' Self said. 'I just wanted to hire the best guy and I thought he was the best guy for us. He's terrific on the court. He's great with the kids. He's high energy. But I'm not interested in thinking or talking about a succession plan.' While Vaughn is no stranger on campus, he admits that he's very much a newbie back at Kansas. He's entering a college environment much different than the one he left upon graduating in 1997. He didn't seek the advice of others when he decided to go back to school, but he did get a call from his former backcourt mate and former Stanford coach Jerod Haase. He mostly wanted to share his thoughts on the changes to the college game. Those changes, in some ways, have made Vaughn's time in the NBA more relevant because college basketball has turned professional. 'The worlds are merging,' Vaughn said. What's different, though, with college basketball is the connection fans feel to the players who wear the uniform or the coaches who roam the sideline. That's somewhat changing in this transfer era, and Kansas has felt that these last few years. Vaughn's return should rekindle those feelings. He is forever the face of the 1990s Jayhawks. You still see No. 11 jerseys from that era. Kansas fans talk about the 1997 Arizona loss — Vaughn's final college game — like a devastating life event. That conclusion never felt appropriate. Maybe it was always in the cards for Vaughn to get a second act. 'We've come full circle, where I always wanted to be depended on as a player — and same way as a coach,' Vaughn said. 'My energy, juice, I want you to be able to depend on that on a daily basis. And I'm going to climb into this same space, where I don't want to let my university down. I don't want to let this fan base down. It's special. It means something to me.' Spot the pattern. Connect the terms Find the hidden link between sports terms Play today's puzzle
