This ridiculous spectacle only confirmed what I thought about boxing

Comment: As a sports journalist, I’m very lucky to attend multiple press conferences a year for sports around the globe.

Formula 1, SailGP, NRL, AFL, cricket, you name it, we are there asking questions.

But when it comes to rogue, ridiculous spectacles - boxing easily takes the cake.

In traditional sports media, press conferences are driven by multiple journalists’ line of questioning.

Wednesday’s No Limit presser ahead of Friday night’s Sydney card felt more like a heated argument between rivals that was awkwardly filtered through a moderator.

“Don’t miss the drama,” remarked Nelson Asofa-Solomona to his fans in his closing message.

Aptly said, given he and Paul Gallen had just been going at each other like a pair of yapping chihuahuas.

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I say that with the utmost respect, I completely understand the inherent theatrics of combat sports.

The entire goal is to manufacture hype, sell pay-per-views and ensure everyone gets their cut of the cheque.

But the fighters felt less like athletes and more like marketing vessels as each took their turn spruiking to a live crowd and online for fans to buy tickets to watch them fight, or as Gallen threatened, “kick your head off your f---ing shoulders”.

That stands in stark contrast to sport where competitors are afforded the luxury of simply being athletes, free from the burden of playing promoter just to secure their wage.

As someone with a passion for motorsport, the only time I anticipate a “fight” is when a frustrated driver decides to march down the pit lane to have a stern word with a rival.

Then there’s the swearing. If other Australian athletes called their opponents a c--- at a press conference or anywhere within earshot of a microphone, their governing body would surely make sure they were reprimanded heavily.

But here, the vitriol and anger flowed freely between fighters, rapidly devolving into aggressive, foul-mouthed tirades.

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It is an insane difference from how most athletes view media obligations, where the golden rule is always the less said, the better.

Traditional athletes know that reporters have a job to do, but they usually aren’t about to hand out free ammunition to journalists.

And they certainly aren’t dragging an opponent’s wife into the crosshairs before a match like Asofa-Solomona did with Gallen.

Once NAS and Gallen had finally exhausted their insults, the moderator signalled for the good ol’ stare-down.

Now, when I told my colleagues in the newsroom I thought this part of boxing’s media proceedings bordered on homoerotic to me, I was met with a barrage of laughs.

That’s a score for me as I’m not usually the funny one in the office, but I explained my reasoning - when else do we make a big song and dance about hypermasculinity than in boxing, where two furious men press their faces so close together they end up sharing the same oxygen?

In the NRL, AFL, or cricket, a scathing comment from a rival is usually delivered remotely - a quote a journalist has relayed from another camp.

They are almost never seated at the exact same podium, forced to give their unfiltered thoughts on each other in real time.

No Limit CEO George Rose was the first to speak, a glaring juxtaposition to other sporting codes where executives intentionally avoid the limelight, leaving the athletes and coaches to face the firing squad.

He opened the proceedings and acted as a physical, protective barrier between Gallen and NAS, looking as though he fully expected them to launch themselves across the table.

Traditionally, press conferences are sacred ground in sports media, closed-off rooms where journalists can genuinely question subjects on the news of the day.

This event, however, was staged for the Sydney public.

As the main-event theatrics played out on the top podium, I had to chuckle at the undercard fighters visibly zoning out, entirely glossed over in favour of the headline act that No Limit knew would actually draw eyeballs.

As Gallen and Asofa-Solomona hurled increasingly ridiculous playground insults at each other - dog, mutt, rat, cat (alright Dr. Seuss), I couldn’t help but marvel at the unapologetic unprofessionalism of it all.

But maybe that’s boxing’s charm.

I’m certainly not questioning their dedication as professional athletes, but perhaps they should let their fists do the talking for them. After all, boxing fans are paying to see knockouts, not cheap shots.