The boxing world is finally getting the fight it’s waited nearly a decade for: Tyson Fury versus Anthony Joshua. Scheduled for Spring 2026 in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, this 12-round heavyweight clash isn’t just another pay-per-view spectacle—it’s a collision of legacies, regrets, and raw physicality. At 37 and 36 respectively, both men are past their primes, yet their stakes couldn’t be higher. Fury, the 6’9" giant with a 3-inch reach advantage and a 270+ pound frame, carries the aura of a man who’s been to the edge and back. Joshua, at 6’6" and 240-250 pounds, is the once-unified champion trying to resurrect what many believe was slipping away after two brutal losses to Oleksandr Usyk.
It’s easy to forget how close we came to this fight in 2021. Joshua held the WBA, IBF, and WBO belts. Fury had the WBC. A unification bout was within reach. But negotiations collapsed. Promoters bickered. Fans waited. And then Usyk came in, dismantled both men, and changed the entire landscape. Now, with Oleksandr Usyk firmly established as the division’s king, Fury vs. Joshua feels less like a coronation and more like a funeral for what could’ve been.
Tris Dixon put it bluntly: "It’s pathetic we couldn’t get something like that done when it mattered most." And he’s not wrong. The fight’s financial potential—estimated at $150 million in global revenue—was staggering. But timing, ego, and fractured contracts killed it. Now, it’s a consolation prize. A final chance for both men to define their legacies before the curtain falls.
On paper, the contrast is stark. Tyson Fury enters with a 34-2-1 record, 24 KOs (71% knockout rate), and 254 professional rounds fought. He’s fought more than Joshua—by five bouts and 87 rounds. His ring IQ is legendary: switching stances, dancing on stilts, baiting opponents into exhaustion. He’s not just big—he’s agile. He’s smart. He’s dangerous at any range.
Anthony Joshua brings a 28-4 record, 25 KOs (89% knockout rate), and elite power. His jab and straight right can end fights in a flash. But his weaknesses are well-documented: he cracks under sustained pressure. When hurt early, he freezes. He’s been knocked down twice by Usyk, and last year, he was floored by Daniel Dubois—a fighter many considered a step below him. Four wins after the first Usyk loss? That was a mirage. The Dubois defeat exposed the cracks.
And here’s the twist: Fury’s two losses? Both to Usyk. Joshua’s four losses? Two to Usyk, one to Andy Ruiz Jr., one to Dubois. Neither man has beaten the current elite. Neither has looked dominant in years.
Kieran Mulvaney nailed it: "He has had two preeminent rivals in his time: Wilder and Fury. And he has so far managed to avoid fighting either of them. That will be a knock on his legacy."
Lucas Ketelle sees two "defeated men on failed redemption tours." Owen Lewis wonders why anyone still mourns this fight when Usyk stands alone atop the division. Jason Langendorf calls it "a consolation prize that will go to the best Usyk victim."
But let’s not ignore the fans. Of the 42 predictions aggregated by box.live, 33.33% predict Fury by KO. Another 33.33% pick Joshua by KO. Nearly 29% see Fury winning on points. Only 4.76% think Joshua wins by decision. That’s not just a split—it’s a mirror. Both men are equally likely to win… and equally likely to lose.
This isn’t just about belts or rankings. It’s about identity. Fury, the once-unified champion, wants to prove he’s still the man who beat Wilder twice. Joshua wants to silence the critics who say he folded when it mattered most. Both men are chasing relevance. Both are aware their window is closing.
And then there’s the location: Jeddah. Saudi Arabia’s aggressive push into global sports—funding MMA, golf, football—is now targeting boxing’s last great heavyweight showdown. The Saudi government is reportedly footing most of the bill. It’s not just about the fight. It’s about legacy branding.
"It has to happen in 2025," Joshua said during a visit to Nigeria, where his parents were born. Promoter Eddie Hearn confirmed the sentiment. But the date slipped to 2026. Not because of logistics. Because both men needed more time to heal. To prepare. To believe.
If Fury wins, he’ll likely retire as the last true heavyweight giant of his generation. If Joshua wins, he’ll get one last shot at redemption—maybe even a rematch with Usyk. But if he loses again? The whispers will become shouts: "He never beat the best. He only fought the ones who fell."
Neither man will ever be forgotten. But this fight will determine how they’re remembered.
Despite their losses to Oleksandr Usyk, Fury and Joshua remain the two most marketable heavyweights in the world. With Usyk dominating, promoters are cashing in on the residual fan interest. Neither fighter has faced the other, and their rivalry has been the biggest "what if" in recent boxing history. The fight is less about titles and more about legacy, pride, and closing the chapter on a decade of missed opportunities.
Fury’s 6’9" height and 3-inch reach advantage give him a massive structural edge. He can control distance, land from the outside, and make Joshua work harder to get inside. Joshua’s power is elite, but Fury’s mobility and ring IQ allow him to evade and counter. If Joshua can’t land clean, heavy shots early, he risks being outboxed and worn down over 12 rounds—a scenario that’s happened to nearly every big man Fury’s faced.
Saudi Arabia has become boxing’s new power center, investing billions to host global events—from Mike Tyson’s exhibition to the upcoming Fury-Joshua bout. The government sees this as a soft-power opportunity, enhancing its global image. The fight’s location isn’t accidental; it’s strategic. With Western promoters wary of political risks, Saudi Arabia offers deep pockets and zero interference in matchmaking.
Almost certainly. Both men are in their mid-thirties, with multiple losses and physical wear-and-tear. Fury has hinted at retirement after Usyk and this fight. Joshua’s post-Dubois performance suggests he’s past his peak. Even if they win, neither is likely to challenge Usyk again. This is their final chance to define themselves—not as champions, but as warriors who refused to fade quietly.