June 03, 2016

Source: Bigstock

People lose confidence in a devalued currency. The same rule applies in sport. The currency of world boxing titles has been devalued, and a so-called champion can no longer command the esteem he used almost always to deserve and enjoy. Instead of being the best man in the world at his weight, he is now often no better than one of the best three or four. He may not even be that because the proliferation of self-styled world title fights means that he may have won his title against a mediocre opponent.

Boxing is not alone in engaging in this sort of devaluation. The two football codes I follow”€”Association or Soccer and Rugby Union”€”have been devaluing the status of an international player. They did this by permitting a certain number of replacements during a match. These chaps often come on only in the last stages of a game. So, for instance, a rugby player might win ten caps for his country, playing an average of only eight minutes a match. That makes a total of eighty minutes on the field, and eighty minutes is the duration of a rugby match. Before replacements were permitted you would have played eight hundred minutes to win ten caps. Inflation at work again.

Some sports happily resist the inflationary trend. In golf you have four majors: the Masters, the American Open, the Open, and the U.S. PGA. Likewise in tennis, you have the four major tournaments now called Slams: the Australian Open, the French Open at Roland Garros, Wimbledon, and the U.S. Open at Flushing Meadows. Anyone who wins one of these, like anyone who wins one of golf’s majors, is truly entitled to regard himself as a champion, and will be universally regarded as one. But suppose the ruling bodies of these sports had the bright idea of doubling the number of majors or Slams? What would be the effect? There would be more champions and they would all be held in less esteem. It wouldn”€™t be long before the Masters or Wimbledon became just another tournament. Inflation would have devalued them, just as the proliferation of weights and boxing boards has devalued the champions of the ring and made a world title fight just another bout, no longer the special occasion it used to be. The Olympic Games are held every fourth year, but if they were held annually, they would matter less than they do. Speaking of a devalued coinage, in the 16th century Sir Thomas Gresham pronounced the rule: “€œBad money drives out good.”€ Quite so; it still does, and the debased state of boxing proves the truth of his dictum.

Economists tell us that a little bit of inflation is good; it sets the wheels of commerce moving faster. Nevertheless, we all know that the effect of inflation is corrupting. Monetary inflation lets debtors cheat their creditors, which is why governments encourage their citizens to lend them money; they do so happy in the knowledge that inflation will reduce the value of the loan.

There was always corruption in boxing. Fights were fixed and the designated loser obediently took a dive. No doubt we”€”the fans”€”were often cheated. But at least we could believe”€”even if sometimes we may have kidded ourselves”€”that there was one genuine world champion at each of the eight weights. We aren”€™t even left with that illusion now. Thank the Lord, then, that golf and tennis retain a measure of integrity.

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