Classless and crestfallen Tyson Fury was author of his own downfall

While he fought with heart, Tyson Fury lost once more with a conspicuous lack of class, unable to accept a second eclipse in seven months by the fleet-footed genius that was Oleksandr Usyk. After a contest where he landed only 28 per cent of his punches to the Ukrainian’s 42, he railed against the ringside judges who consigned him to this unanimous defeat, each by a 116-112 margin, insisting he had won by three rounds and accusing officials of handing his opponent a “Christmas gift”. When informed that even artificial intelligence analysis – described by Riyadh ringmaster Turki Alalshikh as an “unbiased perspective” – had him losing by six points, he harrumphed: “F— computers. More jobs for humans.”

He was struggling, visibly, to come to terms with the dismantling of his ‘Gypsy King’ persona. For almost a decade Fury has cherished a conception of himself as invincible, often boasting that “not a man born by his mother” could beat him. Except Usyk has, twice, this time making light of a four-stone weight disadvantage to do so. Fury sought to smother him at close quarters with his 20st frame and a luxuriant beard, but each time Usyk escaped the trap, finishing by far the stronger fighter down the stretch to cement his status as the pre-eminent heavyweight of his era.

Fury is likely to have longer than he would like to contemplate his future. Forget any trilogy with Usyk, his only logical options now are either to retire or agree to one last lavish payday against Anthony Joshua, a fight he should have taken five years ago. Should he continue, you hope that he might absorb the lessons that his conqueror has handed him in both ringcraft and respect. Where Usyk was a study in solemnity after this result, sinking to his knees in prayers dedicated to his war-torn nation, Fury was all bluster and bloviating, trying to depict himself as the victim of some monstrous injustice rather than as the author of his own downfall.

He has never shown Usyk the deference due. Long before this duel was drawn, he disregarded him as a “small cruiserweight”, scoffing: “I want the big fights and that ain’t one of them. The heavyweight champion should be from Britain or America and nowhere else.” It was one barb amongst many, culminating in toe-curling scenes in Saudi Arabia of Fury abusing an honourable champion to his face. This time he met his match, his defences unpicked by the faster, nimbler, stronger fighter.

The outcome will shake Fury to his core. Even after one of the more disciplined performances of his career, avoiding any of the histrionic showboating that disfigured his first bout in May, he was still comfortably second best for stamina. In part this came down to conditioning: Fury was a bizarre vision for this rematch, looking like a latter-day Obelix from the Asterix cartoons in his absurdly high shorts. He sported not just extra weight but the bushiest beard, igniting anger from an Usyk camp who felt the facial hair could present an unfair advantage, risking scratches to their boxer during grappling. The intrigue was heightened by the fact that Usyk was not allowed to kiss his crucifix between rounds after some suspected him in the first bout, with zero evidence, of puffing on an inhaler.

As ever, Usyk had the answers, increasing both his tempo and his accuracy in the decisive late rounds. “How did Tyson only get four rounds in this fight?” asked Fury’s crestfallen promoter, Frank Warren. “It’s nuts. I don’t get it. I’m really disappointed. I thought he was in control of the fight, I thought he had Usyk on the back foot for most of the fight.” The statistics painted a different picture, with Fury landing more punches than the winner in just one of the 12 rounds.

Alalshikh had openly wanted the challenger to prevail, urging Fury to “do the job” against Usyk. But sometimes, even with an unlimited sovereign wealth fund behind you, sport does not always run according to the script. When you thought of all the money that had been lavished on promoting this antagonism between Fury and Usyk, it was ironic that all the attention should shift to three judges invisible to the millions watching: Gerardo Martinez from Puerto Rico, Patrick Morley of the United States, and Ignacio Robles from Panama. All concurred that Fury’s imagined victory was anything but – and that it was not especially close.

At least Fury, after all his crude pre-fight pantomime, showed some composure in the ring, heeding the advice of trainer SugarHill Steward to have Usyk on the run, never taking a backward step. Usyk looked in vain to land the same juddering blows that marked the opening encounter. Fury, resisting any prancing around on the ropes, kept trying to pick off Usyk’s attacks and box effectively on the outside.

His mood was plain to see after the verdict was read out. His frame of mind was not helped by the sight of Daniel Dubois, fresh from knocking out Joshua, bouncing out into the ring and calling for Warren to make him his own rematch with Usyk. “Get me my revenge,” he screamed, after he was contentiously penalised for low blows against Usyk in Wroclaw last year. Fury looked disgusted at Dubois for stealing his thunder and stalked away.

He had delivered everything asked of him here, following Steward’s instructions to the letter, and still it was not enough. The trouble was that the irrepressible Usyk would not relent, displaying an uncanny habit to finish every round with a flourish to impress the judges. He was dominant to the 11th before unleashing a late bombardment in the 12th, falling to the canvas in gratitude at the final bell, as if sensing his was a fate divinely decreed. Sure enough, he was declared an emphatic winner, with his unbeaten record preserved and his extraordinary impact on his sport affirmed. For Fury, there is always the consolation of his endlessly-delayed collision with Joshua. But the psychological scars from this defeat will take the longest time to heal.

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