Teofimo Lopez has barely had time to celebrate becoming WBA welterweight champion and already the conversation has moved on.
His victory over Rolando ‘Rolly’ Romero in Las Vegas made Lopez a three-weight world champion, although even that result came with controversy. Romero believes he did enough to retain his title, and I’ve already looked at why I’m not convinced the judges robbed him:
But that’s another argument.
For the purposes of this one, Lopez is the WBA welterweight champion.
And almost immediately, attention has turned towards what comes next.
Unification fights.
The winner of Ryan Garcia vs Conor Benn.
Bigger events.
Bigger names.
Bigger money.
There is just one name that seems remarkably easy to forget.
Jack Catterall.
Catterall has worked himself into the position that is supposedly designed to guarantee a fighter an eventual opportunity at the champion. Yet we’re already discussing whether that obligation can be pushed further down the road while Lopez pursues more lucrative alternatives.
Commercially, I understand it.
Sportingly, I’m beginning to wonder what the word mandatory actually means.
Because this isn’t really about Teofimo Lopez or Jack Catterall.
It’s about the entire boxing mandatory challenger system.
And boxing’s history tells us exactly why Catterall should be concerned.
What Is a Boxing Mandatory Challenger Supposed to Mean?
The entire point of a boxing mandatory challenger should be remarkably simple.
Boxing doesn’t operate like most sports. There isn’t a league table where everybody plays everybody else and the best team finishes top. Fighters have different promoters, broadcasters and managers. There are four major sanctioning bodies, countless regional belts and rankings which can sometimes feel almost impossible to follow.
The mandatory system is supposed to provide some order amongst that chaos.
Work your way through the rankings.
Win the necessary fights.
Become the mandatory challenger.
Receive your world-title opportunity.
At least, that’s the theory.
I’ve previously looked in more detail at how boxing’s mandatory challenger system is supposed to work:
The problem isn’t necessarily the principle behind the system.
It’s what happens when boxing decides something else is more important.
And we’ve seen before just how long somebody can remain stuck in that queue.
Dillian Whyte Should Be the Warning
If anybody wants to understand why the boxing mandatory challenger system matters, look at Dillian Whyte.
Whyte reached No.1 in the WBC heavyweight rankings in October 2017 after beating Robert Helenius.
Then he waited.
And waited.
And kept fighting.
Lucas Browne.
Joseph Parker.
Derek Chisora.
Oscar Rivas.
Whyte beat Rivas in July 2019 to become the WBC interim champion and official mandatory challenger, having already spent well over a year as the organisation’s No.1 contender.
Even then, the world-title fight didn’t arrive.
There were complications along the way. Whyte’s mandatory status was temporarily suspended following an adverse drug-test finding before the Rivas fight, before UK Anti-Doping cleared him. He then lost to Alexander Povetkin in 2020, costing him his position temporarily, before brutally avenging that defeat in the rematch.
So the story isn’t as simple as saying Whyte spent four uninterrupted years as official mandatory challenger.
But that’s almost beside the point.
From becoming WBC No.1 in October 2017 to finally challenging Tyson Fury at Wembley in April 2022, Whyte spent around four and a half years chasing the opportunity his ranking was supposed to lead towards.
By July 2020 alone, he’d already spent 1,000 days as the WBC’s No.1 contender.
Think about that.
One thousand days.
And he still hadn’t fought for the WBC heavyweight championship.
What Was Dillian Whyte Supposed to Do?
That’s the question I’ve always had about Whyte’s situation.
What else was he supposed to do?
He could hardly stop fighting for several years while waiting for the sanctioning body to sort everything out.
So he continued taking risks.
That’s another problem with delaying a boxing mandatory challenger.
Waiting isn’t neutral.
A fighter still has to train.
They still have to fight.
They still get punched.
They still age.
They still accumulate injuries.
And every additional fight required while protecting that position is another opportunity for everything they’ve worked towards to disappear.
Whyte eventually lost to Povetkin with one punch in August 2020 after largely controlling the fight.
Suddenly, years of work were in jeopardy.
He had to beat Povetkin in the rematch just to put himself back into the conversation he’d already spent years trying to win.
That’s madness when you think about it.
Did Dillian Whyte Finally Get His Opportunity Too Late?
Whyte eventually got his world-title fight against Tyson Fury in April 2022.
He was 34.
Fury stopped him in the sixth round at Wembley.
And perhaps Fury would have beaten Whyte whenever they fought. I’m certainly not suggesting a younger Whyte would automatically have become world champion.
But I do think it’s reasonable to ask whether Whyte was the same fighter by 2022 that he had been several years earlier.
By then he’d been through wars with Chisora.
He’d fought Parker.
He’d fought Rivas.
He’d been brutally knocked out by Povetkin and then prepared for and fought the rematch.
Heavyweight boxing takes something out of you.
Maybe Fury always beats him.
But Whyte should have been given the opportunity to find out when he originally earned his position rather than years later.
That’s why mandatory delays aren’t merely administrative issues.
A boxer’s prime has an expiry date.
You can’t give those years back.
And That’s Why Jack Catterall Matters
Now bring that back to Jack Catterall.
I’m not suggesting Catterall is about to spend four years waiting for Lopez.
Hopefully he doesn’t.
But Whyte demonstrates what can happen when boxing continually finds reasons why the mandatory challenger can wait a little longer.
One exception doesn’t seem particularly unreasonable.
Then there’s another.
Then a bigger fight becomes available.
Then there’s a unification.
Then another commercial opportunity appears.
Six months becomes a year.
A year becomes two.
And suddenly everybody has forgotten when the challenger originally earned the opportunity.
That’s precisely why the boxing mandatory challenger system has to mean something.
Jack Catterall Has Done What Boxing Asked Him to Do
Catterall hasn’t simply appeared from nowhere demanding a world-title fight.
He moved into the welterweight division, worked himself into position and defeated Shakhram Giyasov to win the WBA’s secondary welterweight championship.
Whatever anybody thinks about the WBA having multiple versions of a world title — and that’s an entirely separate problem — Catterall played by the system put in front of him.
He earned his position.
Lopez now has the main WBA championship.
So at some point Catterall should get the opportunity attached to that position.
Otherwise, what exactly was he fighting for?
I Understand Why Teofimo Lopez Wants Something Bigger
This isn’t an attack on Lopez.
If I’m Teofimo Lopez and somebody puts two contracts on the table — one for Jack Catterall and another for Ryan Garcia or Conor Benn — I know which one I’m looking at first.
So does everybody else.
Garcia is one of boxing’s biggest commercial attractions. Benn brings a substantial British audience. Either fight could become a major event.
Then there are unifications.
I actually have far more sympathy with delaying a mandatory for a unification because there is a genuine sporting benefit.
Boxing has too many champions.
If two recognised world champions want to fight each other and move the division closer towards having one undisputed champion, that’s good for the sport.
But there has to come a point where the boxing mandatory challenger actually gets the opportunity attached to the position.
Otherwise we’re asking fighters to participate in a system whose rules change whenever somebody more profitable becomes available.
Mandatory Apparently Means ‘Unless We Find Something Better’
That’s increasingly what the word feels like in modern boxing.
Mandatory.
Unless there’s a unification.
Mandatory.
Unless there’s a bigger pay-per-view fight.
Mandatory.
Unless the champion wants an exception.
Mandatory.
Unless somebody can make considerably more money doing something else.
At some point, the word loses its meaning.
I’m not arguing that every mandatory challenger should immediately jump ahead of every possible fight.
Boxing needs some flexibility.
A genuine undisputed fight should probably take precedence.
An exceptional situation might require an extension.
But exceptions are supposed to be exceptions.
A boxing mandatory challenger cannot spend years climbing the rankings only to discover that reaching the front of the queue doesn’t actually mean they’re next.
That’s not a sporting pathway.
That’s a waiting list where VIP customers are continually allowed to jump the queue.
Boxing Rankings Need to Mean Something
This is bigger than Catterall.
And it was bigger than Whyte.
The rankings are constantly used to give boxing some semblance of sporting legitimacy.
We’re told somebody is ranked number three.
Somebody else is number one.
Two contenders are ordered into an eliminator.
A fighter becomes interim champion.
Then mandatory challenger.
Those labels are supposed to mean something.
Because if they don’t, why should fighters bother?
Imagine spending years building your record, taking eliminators and paying sanctioning fees because you’ve been told there’s a route towards a world championship.
Then you finally reach the top.
Sorry.
The champion has a more lucrative option.
Wait another six months.
Then another fight appears.
Wait again.
Perhaps there’s a unification.
Perhaps the champion moves division.
Perhaps the belt becomes vacant.
Perhaps another version of the championship gets created.
Meanwhile, you’re getting older.
You’re taking more fights.
You’re absorbing more punches.
You’re risking the position you’ve already earned every time you step through the ropes.
Dillian Whyte showed exactly where that can lead.
The Best Fighters Aren’t Always the Biggest Names
There’s another uncomfortable element to this.
Mandatory challengers can be commercially inconvenient precisely because they’re dangerous.
Catterall might not generate the same money as Garcia or Benn, but he’s an experienced, awkward southpaw who has spent years operating around world level.
From the champion’s perspective, that can make a mandatory defence an unattractive proposition.
You take considerable sporting risk without necessarily receiving the financial reward that comes with one of boxing’s superstar names.
Again, I understand the business logic.
But world championships aren’t supposed to exist purely to maximise the champion’s earning potential.
Sometimes being champion should mean defending against somebody because they earned the right to fight you.
That’s part of the responsibility that comes with holding the belt.
Catterall Already Knows What Waiting Feels Like
There is something particularly frustrating about Catterall potentially finding himself in this position.
His career has already been shaped by waiting, boxing politics and disputed opportunities.
After his controversial defeat to Josh Taylor in 2022, it took more than two years before Catterall finally got Taylor back into the ring.
Now he’s worked his way towards another world-title opportunity in a new weight class.
And once again, we’re discussing whether he might have to wait while somebody else gets the opportunity.
At some point, surely earning your position has to be enough.
Catterall shouldn’t need to become a social-media superstar.
He shouldn’t need to manufacture a rivalry.
He shouldn’t need millions of followers.
He shouldn’t need to become more commercially attractive than Ryan Garcia or Conor Benn.
He should need to do what the sanctioning body asked him to do.
And he has.
Unifications Should Be the Exception — Not Every Bigger Payday
There does need to be a distinction.
If Lopez gets the opportunity to unify the WBA title with another recognised world championship, I can understand the WBA granting some flexibility.
Undisputed champions are good for boxing.
Reducing the number of separate champions is good for boxing.
There is a genuine sporting reason for allowing that fight to take priority, provided Catterall’s opportunity remains protected and follows immediately afterwards.
But simply postponing a boxing mandatory challenger because another opponent generates more money is much harder to defend.
Because once money becomes sufficient justification, there will always be another reason to delay.
There’s always another bigger name.
There’s always another payday.
There’s always another event somebody can sell.
And the mandatory challenger remains exactly where they were.
Waiting.
You Can’t Have Rankings Without Consequences
Boxing can’t have this both ways.
Sanctioning bodies cannot promote rankings as meaningful sporting structures while simultaneously treating them as optional whenever inconvenient.
If becoming the boxing mandatory challenger guarantees nothing more than the possibility of eventually receiving a title fight, say so.
Stop pretending the rankings create a clear pathway.
Call them what they actually are: a list of fighters who might get an opportunity depending on money, promoters, broadcasters, politics and whether somebody more commercially attractive turns up.
At least that would be honest.
But if boxing wants rankings to matter, eventually they have to be enforced.
That sometimes means a champion taking a fight they wouldn’t necessarily choose.
That’s the point.
Big Fights Matter — But So Does Earning Your Chance
I’d happily watch Teofimo Lopez fight Ryan Garcia.
I’d happily watch Lopez against Conor Benn.
I’d certainly support Lopez attempting to unify the welterweight division.
Those are all interesting fights.
But none of that changes the fundamental question.
What’s the point of having a boxing mandatory challenger if the champion can simply keep looking elsewhere?
Dillian Whyte spent years discovering how little being at the front of the queue could actually mean.
By the time he finally received his world-title opportunity, you can reasonably argue that some of his best years were already behind him.
Boxing shouldn’t need another example.
Jack Catterall has done what the sport asked him to do.
He won the fights.
He earned the position.
Now the system needs to prove that those words actually mean something.
Because boxing needs spectacular nights, superstar fights and enormous purses.
But underneath all of that, it still needs to function as a sport.
And in a sport, there has to remain a way for somebody to earn their opportunity while they’re still good enough to take it.
Have Your Say
Should Jack Catterall get his opportunity before Teofimo Lopez pursues another blockbuster payday? Should unification fights be the only legitimate reason for delaying a boxing mandatory challenger?
And looking back at Dillian Whyte’s experience, how long should any fighter reasonably be expected to wait after earning their shot?
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