The heart of boxing is gasping for air, and it’s a crisis few are talking about. Small-hall boxing, the grassroots of the sport, is on life support—and if it fades, the entire boxing ecosystem could suffer. But here’s where it gets controversial: while big-name fighters and Saudi-backed mega-events grab the headlines, the unsung heroes of the sport—the small-hall promoters, fighters, and fans—are being left behind. And this is the part most people miss: without these humble, local shows, the pipeline of future champions could dry up entirely.
Small-hall boxing, often held in modest venues without TV deals or celebrity promoters, has long been the proving ground for aspiring boxers. It’s where fighters like Josh Warrington, a former dental technician from Leeds, began their journeys. Warrington, who later became a world champion by winning the IBF featherweight title, owes his career to these grassroots events. Without them, he might never have stepped into the ring professionally, let alone reached the pinnacle of the sport. But today, these shows are struggling to survive.
Promoters like Steve Wood, a prominent figure in the UK’s small-hall scene, are pouring their passion—and their money—into keeping the sport alive at this level. Wood, who runs VIP Promotions in the north of England, admits it’s an expensive hobby. ‘It’s not just a struggle, it’s impossible,’ he says. ‘I’ve done it to give kids a start, to get them on TV shows, but those opportunities are disappearing.’
The rise of Saudi-backed boxing events has shifted the landscape dramatically. ‘The Saudis put on a card with six big fights—that’s six UK shows we’re losing,’ Wood explains. While this influx of money benefits top-tier fighters, it’s choking the development of up-and-coming talent. Small-hall boxers, who once dreamed of climbing the ranks, are now retiring early due to a lack of opportunities and financial strain.
But here’s the real kicker: small-hall promoters are hit with the same fees as major TV shows, despite operating on a fraction of the budget. With ticket sales plummeting—thanks to the cost of living crisis and reduced TV exposure—many are hemorrhaging money. Steve Goodwin, a promoter based in Leighton Buzzard, Bedfordshire, who has managed over 70 champions, puts it bluntly: ‘Boxing in the UK is not in a great place. People don’t even know who the top boxers are anymore. How can they care about small-hall shows?’
Goodwin, also a financial adviser, highlights the broader economic impact: ‘People are poorer. We’re seeing a huge drop in ticket sales, not just from boxers but from the general public.’ The departure of Sky Sports from boxing, coupled with Dazn’s struggling viewership numbers, has further starved the sport of exposure. While Sky plans to return in 2026, the damage may already be done.
Adding to the pressure is the rise of alternative boxing-adjacent events, like ‘White Collar’ boxing and Misfits Boxing, which are siphoning off casual fans. ‘Why should we keep losing money?’ Wood asks. ‘I’ve had to think about cutting back on shows. If it weren’t for my other businesses, I’d walk away.’
Goodwin nearly quit three months ago. ‘Small-hall boxing doesn’t make sense financially,’ he admits. ‘But I keep doing it because I believe I’m doing the best for the fighters.’ Both promoters argue that the British Boxing Board of Control could ease the burden by reducing fees for small-hall events. Without such support, an essential part of the sport risks collapsing.
Here’s the question that divides opinions: Is small-hall boxing worth saving? Some argue it’s an outdated model, overshadowed by global mega-events. Others believe it’s the soul of the sport, the only way to nurture talent from the ground up. What do you think? Is it time to let small-hall boxing fade into history, or should the boxing world rally to save its lifeblood? Let’s debate this in the comments—the future of boxing may depend on it.
