For some fighters, combat sports are purely a business—aiming to maximize earnings while preserving their long-term health. For others, fighting is a way of life, an addictive passion they can’t walk away from.
Modern combat sports often receive mockery, especially with spectacles like UFC bouts held on the White House lawn, Jake Paul—once a Disney star—becoming a major boxing draw, or the weekly antics at Misfits events. The bravado, showmanship, and occasional foolishness historically linked with fighting seem to have intensified to extreme levels.
Yet, when the fight begins, the brutal reality of sharing blows—punches, knees, or shins crashing against skulls—remains as harsh as ever. Fighters are fully aware of the risk of severe injury or even death but often claim that the adrenaline and vitality inside the ring are unmatched.
Darren Till, a former UFC competitor from Liverpool now competing in bare-knuckle boxing (BKFC), embraces this mindset. “I love violence. I love fighting. I was built for fighting,” he shared with The Independent. At 33, retirement hasn’t crossed his mind. This Saturday, he faces a fighter many struggle to believe is still competing at his age.
That opponent is 49-year-old Yoel Romero, an Olympic wrestling silver medalist from the 2000 Sydney Games and known for a sensational UFC career he launched at age 36—13 years after his Olympic success. Against the norm of athletes slowing down at that age, Romero stormed the UFC’s middleweight division, fighting for the world title three times.
With advancing years, Romero’s fights have become even more brutal. He now primarily competes in bare-knuckle boxing—a discipline that leaves fighters without gloves, allowing for some of the most devastating knockouts seen in combat sports. Like Till, retirement is not on Romero’s agenda.
When asked about his motivation, Romero said, “I don’t live a motivational life; motivation can disappear tomorrow. Fighting is in my blood. To be a great athlete, you must be disciplined.” Still, his faith takes precedence. Previously, he said, “God will decide” when he stops fighting, though he later clarified that while his faith is central, it does not determine his wins or losses—it’s his “first battle.”
Romero appears likely to continue fighting into his 50s, but he is far from alone in being unable to step away from the fight world—which raises serious concerns.
The health of fighters, especially after retirement, has long been a pressing issue. Stories of former fighters suffering from CTE (chronic traumatic encephalopathy) and pugilistic dementia are sadly common, often suggesting these outcomes could be avoidable.
Dave Harris, representing the Ringside Charitable Trust (RCT), has dedicated his life to boxing—as a trainer, promoter, and manager—and now works to support retired boxers and their families. His focus includes funding a residential care home for fighters dealing with injury, illness, and hardship.
Harris witnesses firsthand the physical and mental decline many ex-fighters face. “I’ve had wives calling because their husbands accuse them of affairs when they’re not, simply due to dementia,” he explains.
In one heartbreaking example, British featherweight champion Jimmy Revie was forced out of his care home due to aggressive behavior linked to dementia. Harris emphasized that traditional care facilities fail the specific needs of former boxers who benefit from specialized support, like revisiting old fight footage to stimulate their minds. Revie passed away on September 13 at 79 after a long battle with pugilistic dementia.
Aware of these harsh realities, Harris advocates not only for retired fighters but also demands better protections for active ones. He accuses promoters and the British Boxing Board of Control (BBBofC) of failing today’s athletes.
“There’s an epidemic no one will admit, especially the ruthless promoters,” Harris said. “Organized crime kills quickly; boxing’s ‘soft’ mafia kills slowly by letting fighters stay in too long. The BBBofC should act.”
In response, BBBofC general secretary Robert Smith retorted that their medical standards are among the strictest worldwide and that they have supported the Ringside Charitable Trust.
Still, Harris finds it baffling how some prominent fighters are allowed to continue. Derek Chisora is one example, but Kell Brook’s recent announcement to return at 40 after admitting struggles with mental health is more concerning.
“Is it wise for Kell Brook after his career? No. But wouldn’t be surprised if, after his loss to Ryan Garcia, he ends up fighting Conor Benn to build someone else up. It’s wrong. The Board needs to get its act together,” Harris asserts.
He adds, “I know the BBBofC’s job is tough, but they make it harder by not refusing Brook a license. Money talks, and he’ll fight again. I just hope he avoids brain damage later.”
At the time of writing, Brook has not applied for a license, but any application will be reviewed individually.
Harris points out how hard it is for fighters to quit; often, they lack alternatives after the ring, similar to soldiers leaving the military. This vulnerability leaves them open to exploitation by promoters who should prioritize their safety.
Financial pressure often drives fighters, especially journeymen, to keep going, while the successful chase legacy and recognition. Mike Tyson said his 2024 fight against Jake Paul at 58 was fueled by his “glory junkie” mentality rather than money. Conor McGregor insists on a UFC comeback despite two devastating leg injuries in recent fights.
Sometimes, the urge to fight is deeper. Anthony Joshua returned just months after surviving a car crash that claimed two friends, motivated by grief and viewing fighting as a coping tool. His comeback aims for a long-anticipated showdown with Tyson Fury, potentially the final chapter for both.
Joshua backs the RCT, displaying their logo in his ring attire during his contested bout with Paul, highlighting his concern for boxer welfare. Yet, in a culture where fear is often dismissed, the serious topic of fighter health is sometimes treated lightly by those most involved.
Till, still active in his career, seems to dismiss the risks of long-term damage. When asked about future concerns, he said, “A little bit, but I like violence; if my brain gets hurt, so be it. I signed up for this.”
This weekend in Manchester, Till will face Romero in what promises to be a thrilling clash between two fighters who share a deep hunger for combat. While their bout adds another exciting chapter to fight sport history, it also underscores the urgent need for more thoughtful care and planning on how these warriors’ careers—and lives—should ultimately conclude.
Fan Take: This story sheds light on the passion and peril intertwined in combat sports, something every fight fan wrestles with—how to balance the thrill of competition against the very real dangers fighters face. It’s a crucial conversation that could push the sport toward stronger protections, ensuring legends like Till and Romero don’t pay too high a price for their love of the fight.
Source: sports.yahoo.com
