Dana White’s foray into boxing wasn’t subtle, but Terence Crawford’s genius certainly is

Within a 12-hour span, the boxing world produced a microcosm of the overlapping triumphs, exhilarations and tragedies that have come to define it. This morning Naoya Inoue retained his super bantamweight title out in Japan in keeping pace with the pound-for-pound discussions, just as news made its way around that Ricky Hatton — the great Hitman of Hyde — was found dead at his home in Greater Manchester at just 46 years old.

As with everything in the ring, the gravity of human life is never very far from the proceedings. Hatton, who battled Floyd Mayweather in a classic back some 17 years ago, was born in 1978, the same year that Muhammad Ali and Leon Spinks set a record for the most viewers ever for their rematch in New Orleans, drawing over 90 million sets of eyes in America alone.

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That number may never be surpassed, but last night in Las Vegas — as we were reminded on this special occasion by color commentator Max Kellerman — we took a pretty good stab at it. Terence Crawford and Saul “Canelo” Alvarez battled in one of boxing’s premier events, with “Bud” emerging as a three-time undisputed champion in front of 70,000 on-hand spectators, and some 30 million more at home.

The gate? A whopping $47 million. These numbers barely compute for MMA lovers. Boxing at its best is in a galaxy of its own, which is why the face of the UFC, Dana White, has finally come over to the other side.

And so that’s how the self-proclaimed “golden era of boxing” kicked off. With the 37-year-old Crawford moving up two weight classes to stun boxing’s great centerpiece, “Canelo,” in what can only be described as a masterclass performance. It was the footwork. It was the hand speed and the counters. It was the ring IQ and the angles and the preternatural balance that got the job done for Crawford, but it was also that he didn’t shrink from such a big moment. In the fight game the hurdles are so often psychological, and an event of this magnitude has a way of bringing out the truth.

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The truth is that Crawford is him. He’s the whole truth and nothing but, just as he showed against Errol Spence a couple of years back in a fight that set the stage. The fight against the bullish Israil Madrimov 13 months ago may have thrown things a little off-center, but watching Crawford touch “Canelo” up with light-switch quick combos brought it all back into focus. Crawford is never going to set a microphone on fire, but perhaps there’s something to be said for the preservation of mysteries when you fight like that.

It’s an old cliché, but “Bud” does his talking in the ring.

And it was easy to see him do work, too. With the fight broadcast on Netflix, it really did feel like boxing was giving away something. Fights of this magnitude aren’t generally made, and when they are they slip so elegantly behind a paywall. Yet this is the new era. The Zuffa Boxing era. The tuxedos were for everyone. Among the ringside onlookers were Turki Alalshikh, who was seated expansively in ringside view, often posing for pictures. Next to him, UFC CEO White, looking second fiddle to the flowing fabrics around him.

What was Dana thinking through all of it? Remember, when Dana and the Fertitta brothers bought the UFC, the first thing it did was run away from boxing’s model. The UFC wanted to do away with pageantry and the slow pacing and — if we’re being honest — the scorecards. Yet there he was, sitting through these very ceremonies as a stranger in a familiar land, in an outsized stadium that he’s actively avoided. So much of what Dana hates is what boxing has always loved. Drawn-out entrances. Nuanced fighting. A million people in the ring at fight’s end.

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As with all things in these blockbuster boxing events, gratuitousness is just part of the shindig. White, who for years has controlled UFC production down to the walkout songs, was forced into a bystander role as it played out. Back in the day he would gather all the fighters on a given card and encourage them to leave it all in the Octagon, to not leave it things in the judge’s hands. What he wanted was explosive finishes. Don’t go in for subtleties, as nothing good comes of that.

Yet there was Callum Walsh, White’s first big infatuation in the ring, outpointing Fernando Vargas Jr. over 12 rounds in the co-main. There was “Bud” Crawford, sensing the tide turning in the fifth round against a puncher like “Canelo,” ratcheting it up in the sixth to redirect the momentum. If the UFC was built on dynamite levers, boxing of this kind is built by brushstroke. All the pageantry only disguises the genius of its subtleties.

White put the belt around Crawford’s waist, amid a swirl of human commotion that he would never go for in a UFC Octagon. This was his foray into boxing, a sport that existed long before he got there, and won’t easily conform. In fact, the subtlest of all subtleties on Saturday night was in seeing Dana forced to.