Controversy nearly always follows a close fight, particularly when it’s watched by a lot of people – as the verdict that favored Artur Beterbiev over Dmitry Bivol proved.
Let’s get this out of the way early: I scored the contest 115-113 for Beterbiev; I watched on a screen alongside three boxers and a broadcaster, all of whom were vocal, so my concentration was nowhere near as intense as those employed (and trained) to fill in the official scorecards; I have seen the fight only once.
Should I watch it again I wouldn’t be surprised, not even the tiniest bit, if my score changed. Certainly, I have no issue whatsoever with Bivol winning by the same margin, and I don’t believe the 116-112 tally for Beterbiev, handed in by Polish judge Pawel Kardyni, is as remotely outrageous as some educated people are making out. There were several ‘swing’ rounds, a term that means the round could have gone either way; one could even argue that most of the 12 were swing rounds given CompuBox stats reveal, in eight of the rounds, four or less punches was the difference between them.
However, for context here, let’s say there were only three. That means if you don’t have a strong opinion on who won those three rounds and can therefore understand why a judge – or that stranger with whom you’re squabbling on social media – might have scored them for either Beterbiev or Bivol, there’s a feasible six-point ‘swing’ from your card to theirs. To explain that further and taking my (completely unimportant) scorecard as an example, if you change three close rounds from Beterbiev rounds to Bivol rounds, the 115-113 for Artur becomes 116-112 for Dmitry. If there were more close rounds, and on this occasion, I believe there were, that potential for discrepancy becomes even greater.
Something else to consider is the view to which we’re privy. According to an impartial figure in Saudi Arabia, those who watched from one side of the ring preferred the work of Beterbiev and those who watched from the opposite side liked Bivol’s. That’s not unusual in a close encounter and is exactly why judges sit in different positions, with unique vantage points, at ringside. Furthermore, though some people are so wise and headstrong they couldn’t possibly be swayed by the opinion of others – like companions, commentators, analysts or the social media feeds that are repeatedly checked – plenty are, albeit subliminally. Considering there were three different outlets showing the fight in the UK alone, with each using different commentary teams, fans from all over the world would have heard a multitude of conflicting opinions.
It’s not just what we hear or read, either. The replays at the end of seven of the 12 rounds focused only on Bivol, even though Beterbiev landed several punches in those rounds and threw more than his rival in 10 of them. It creates the illusion that the slicker Bivol has won the round the replays follow, when, in truth, his moments of success were cleaner and therefore easier for those in charge of those slow-motion replays to identify, and then edit, in a very short space of time. It follows that the commentators will then spend even more time talking about those passages of the fight. It can all play a part in our perception of the action. Additionally, when watching replays that did identify moments of success for Beterbiev, it was interesting to note how many punches that initially appeared to hit the gloves actually got through. Then consider the tiny proportion of his work we got to see in slow motion.
To be clear, this writing is not designed to change your opinion on who won because my opinion, much like yours, is far from definitive. I accept it could have gone either way while increasingly believing a draw might have been the fairest decision – considering the elite levels of skill and gameplay on display, it’s difficult to say either of them deserved to lose. It is for that reason, after a contest so plainly close, why it is surprising when certain observers scream robbery when official scorecards don’t match their own.