4 Pros and Cons of the Upcoming Mike Tyson-Jake Paul Fight

Boxing isn't what it was when our grandfathers watched it.

Which could be why Jake Paul is fighting a guy old enough to be one.

The social media agitator and undisputed king of the influencer ring is taking an apparent leave from his goal to be taken seriously as a boxer to cash the paycheck that's sure to come from stepping in with a guy who'll be 58 years old by the time they engage.

Yes, granddad, it's that Mike Tyson.

The 27-year-old "Problem Child" and his near-sexagenarian rival will meet on July 20 at AT&T Stadium in Arlington, Texas, home of the NFL's Dallas Cowboys. The event will air live on Netflix as the byproduct of a contract Paul signed with the streaming service last year.

Paul, who improved his ring record to 9-1 with a blowout of Ryan Bourland last weekend in Puerto Rico, had his second pro fight on the undercard of Tyson's much-hyped exhibition match with Roy Jones Jr. in November 2020 at Staples Center in Los Angeles.

The sleep-inducing eight-round draw with Jones was Tyson's first competitive venture since his active career ended with consecutive stoppage losses in 2004 and 2005. He'd won his first heavyweight title belt nearly two decades earlier in 1986 and was the undisputed champion of the division before losing to 42-to-1 underdog Buster Douglas in 1990.

The B/R combat team sprang into action when Paul and Tyson went public with their plans and compiled a list of pros and cons about the internet-busting clash. Take a look at what we came up with and drop a thought of your own in the comments.

One thing is clear: This fight is going to generate some money.

Tickets at AT&T Stadium won't be free. Merchandise bearing the likenesses of Tyson and Paul won't be free. The Netflix subscriptions required to see it won't be free.

And you know what? That's OK.

Though it prompts the purist set to close their eyes and plug their noses, there's nothing legally or morally wrong with two fighters climbing into the ring together, exchanging punches of whatever effectiveness for the contractually prescribed number of rounds, and meeting afterward to compare the zeroes on their paychecks.

Because Jake Paul is a commodity. Because Mike Tyson is a commodity.

They're savvy enough to know that pooling their competitive personas to put on a show for folks interested in plunking down cash to see them scrap is a windfall opportunity. And whether it's a legitimate fight, a cousin to WWE or something in between doesn't matter.

It's entertainment for the interested masses. And so long as they're not using a mask and gun, Tyson and Paul are entitled to make as much money as they can get from them.

For people of a certain age, nostalgia is a cottage industry.

Whether it's through classic rock, retro clothing, rebooted movies or whatever, once a person has counted a requisite number of birthdays, they can't help but recall the good-old days.

It's no different when it comes to sports fans.

Few sports stars of the 1980s shone as brightly as Mike Tyson, so it shouldn't surprise anyone that news of his alliance with Jake Paul would pique interest. After all, the exhibition with Jones generated a million-plus buys for what Snoop Dogg said on the pay-per-view broadcast turned out more like "two of my uncles fighting at the barbecue."

This may be better. It may be worse. But it's hard to argue it's not moderately compelling to see what the one-time "Baddest Man on the Planet" can do, even at age 58, with a guy who on that same show with Jones in 2020 was beating up on retired 5'9" basketball players.

And given the particularly way-back nature of boxing fans, just think of all the matches—Tyson-Douglas II, Tyson-Holyfield III, etc.—that could be made in the aftermath.

Jake Paul has millions of followers on social media.

And given the click-friendly nature of his recent ring events, there's an entire generation of followers growing up thinking he's what a "real" boxer looks, acts and fights like.

So when he blows away dubious opponents like Andre August and Ryan Bourland in less than a round and claims that he's on a path toward a world title and can compete with the likes of four-weight champ Canelo Alvarez and other big names, they believe him.

And they leave boxing much poorer for the experience.

Though it's possible for prodigies to take to a sport and excel, it's not the typical case for boxers. Rather, the best fighters are more often the ones who began at a young age and honed their crafts through years in gyms and amateur rings.

They don't have the personas or reaches of a guy like Paul, so it's hard for them—regardless of their talent—to generate the same sort of interest. And the more people are led to believe that Paul is the genuine article, the less attention they'll get for doing it with less pomp.

It was less than a week ago.

Paul finished off a below-grade journeyman named Ryan Bourland, stood in center ring with sometimes journalist/sometimes shill Ariel Helwani on the DAZN broadcast, and announced with apparent seriousness: "I'm ready for the big leagues. This is my life now."

His subsequent suggestions were that he's ready to tangle with the aforementioned Canelo Alvarez and that high-profile names far and wide are reluctant to risk status against him.

And then he fights Tyson.

A legendary name to be sure. Not exactly a path to pound-for-pound supremacy.

It won't mean a thing to the hardcore members of his device-addled fanbase, but signing to fight a 58-year-old man just six days after yet another insistence that he's ready to prove he's on a path toward a world title looks ridiculous at best and pathetic at worst.

As mentioned, that's not to suggest that Paul shouldn't chase every penny that his 15-plus minutes of fame provide, but it'd be nice if he'd tone down the "I'll be a world champion" rhetoric until he starts making matches with guys actually capable of fighting back.

Beating Tyson about 30 years ago might have proved it.

Beating him in 2024 surely will not.