You, yes you, have the power to prevent Oliver McCall vs. Ike Ibeabuchi
When my extended family goes person-by-person around the table this Thanksgiving, everyone getting a moment to declare something they’re thankful for, I know the words I’m hoping will come out of my mouth: “I’m thankful that Oliver McCall vs. Ike Ibeabuchi didn’t happen this afternoon.”
As you may have heard, the 61-year-old McCall and the 53-year-old Ibeabuchi are considering fighting each other on Thanksgiving Day, with a truly unique “if” attached.
PrizeFighting TV plans to broadcast the meeting of AARP-eligible heavyweights — maybe. Between now and October 31, if PrizeFighting TV gets 12,500 or more pre-orders at a pay-per-view price of $9.95, then on November 26, at “2 p.m. New York time” according to the release (which doesn’t necessarily mean New York state is the target location, as one presumes a softer commission would be sought), “The Atomic Bull” and “The President” will oil up their joints and throw down.
But if 12,499 or fewer customers pony up, then all those $9.95 commitments will be refunded, McCall vs. Ibeabuchi won’t happen and, turkey population excepted, everyone can have a pleasant Thanksgiving.
The promoter is putting the fight’s fate in the hands of the fans. I can’t recall ever seeing that before.
And it’s quite the tempting proposition: Here is this absolute horror show between two men both about double their prime ages, two boxers with documented mental health problems, and instead of the usual disclaimer of, “Hey, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to watch it,” they’re telling you, “If you don’t like it, you can do your part to make sure nobody can watch it.”
They are daring boxing fans to be discerning and to show a little taste and a sense of decency. It’s a fascinating experiment, as “discerning,” “taste” and “decency” aren’t the first three words that come to mind when one thinks of us bloodthirsty savages.
But even if we’re tasteless, indecent and undiscerning… there’s still no audience for this creak show, right?
The social media responses to Boxing Scene’s tweet about the fight mostly displayed the expected level of revulsion. @KillaHills07726 wrote, “I wouldnt watch this if you paid me $9.95.” Along similar lines, @CayneGower tweeted, “I would donate $10 directly to them if they didn’t fight.”
But there was also a mixed response from @CloaknDags. The first line read, “Disgusting to be doing this.” Then, after a return: “Will buy it.”
Look, $9.95 isn’t much. The cost alone will not scare interested customers off. The question is how many interested customers will there actually be — particularly when they have to commit to that interest by 26 days before the fight despite historical data showing about half of all PPV purchases are made on the day of the fight, and particularly when the fight has to compete for attention on Thanksgiving with family and football.
The McCall-Ibeabuchi fight poster declares, “Legends Never Die.” We can debate immortality another time. For now, I’d like to focus on the word “legends.”
In common usage in sports, the word refers to athletes so exceptional that future generations will speak of them with reverence. It isn’t meant to encompass any random athlete who was pretty good at one point in the past. But that’s how it’s being used here. McCall and Ibeabuchi are both old. That doesn’t make them legends.
When Mike Tyson and Roy Jones fought in an exhibition in 2020, the word “legends” applied. One was the most famous fighter of his generation. The other was the most athletically exceptional fighter of his generation. They were old and washed and didn’t particularly belong in a boxing ring, but they were a pair of living legends.
McCall and Ibeabuchi? One of the two took on a somewhat mythic quality because he spent his entire physical prime in jail. That’s as close to legendary status as either of them comes.
McCall had one great moment in a boxing ring, when, in 1994, as about a 5-to-1 underdog with five losses on his record, he shocked previously unbeaten Lennox Lewis in London to claim a heavyweight belt.
The only other thing casual fans remember McCall for is his meltdown in his rematch with Lewis three years later. McCall did not want to be there. He sobbed between rounds. He roamed the ring putting up no fight until referee Mills Lane finally waved it off in the fifth round.
Clinical psychiatrist Marc Shatz was ringside and told the Los Angeles Times afterward that he believed McCall “had a nervous breakdown. The mind fragments, falls to pieces. … It was an emotional breakdown. I observed all the symptoms first-hand. He walked around the ring. He ignored his corner. His eyes had a glazed look, as if he were in a dissociative state, as if he were not there at all, detached. All that indicates a breakdown. This was someone clearly in mental trouble.”
In the nearly 30 years since, McCall has mostly remained active, through his 30s, his 40s, his 50s and now into his 60s. He’s gone 32-6-1 with 2 no-contests since the loss to Lewis, and while he continued fighting reasonably competent fringe contenders for a while, his three fights in the 2020s have seen The Atomic Bull defeat 16-22 Stacy Frazier and 3-4 Gary Cobia, then draw with 7-17-2 Carlos Reyes. And Reyes’ record is significantly worse than it sounds. He hasn’t actually won a fight in more than 10 years, going 0-12-1 in his last 13 before scrapping on even terms with McCall.
Grandpa McCall, 61-14-1 (40 KOs), is 32 years removed from his best win and is in his 60s. As best I can gather, Saoul Mamby is the only other former world titleholder in history to engage in a sanctioned fight past the age of 60. Even if McCall is in a far better place now with regard to his mental health than he was in 1997, any responsible athletic commission would have a tough time justifying granting him a boxing license. It’s no accident that his last three fights all took place in Tennessee.
Licensing Ibeabuchi won’t be a whole lot easier. On the one hand, he’s “only” 53. On the other hand, his BoxRec page shows a 26-year gap between fights and his documented mental health struggles aren’t limited to a single incident.
The fighting ability he displayed in the late ‘90s was undeniable, as he outpointed David Tua and shellacked Chris Byrd, both previously undefeated, in a two-year span to establish himself as seemingly the best young heavyweight on the planet. But, oh, the outside-the-ring problems. Arrested for seemingly intentionally crashing a car with his girlfriend’s son in it. Arrested for a violent freakout at an airport. Accused of attacking a sparring partner after suffering a cut. Stories of believing in demons in air conditioning vents and refusing to go to weigh-ins unless people called him “Mr. President” and slamming steak knives into wooden tables at fancy meals with HBO executives.
“He’s the only fighter I’ve ever worked with who’s mentally ill,” matchmaker Eric Bottjer told me in 2017 for an HBO documentary-style podcast. “He wasn’t mentally ill in a sad way, he was mentally ill in a dangerous way.”
Ibeabuchi’s trainer Curtis Cokes told me for a Ring magazine article in ’99, “After the Tua fight, Ike changed completely. We always knew he had some problems, even before the Tua fight, but they were never that serious, and they were always kept quiet. But since then, Ike’s been thinking he can do whatever he wants. … He needs help, and he and his family don’t see that. He thinks everybody’s after him.”
That interview with Cokes came days after Ibeabuchi’s mooted fight with Michael Grant was canceled because Ike had just been arrested in Las Vegas for allegedly assaulting an escort. Medical experts soon determined him to be bipolar, but instead of being able to plead insanity, Ibeabuchi was medicated to a point of relative stability and entered an Alford plea, meaning he didn’t admit guilt but nevertheless accepted a sentence. He remained in jail and then an immigration detention center until his release in November 2015, then was arrested for probation violation five months later and jailed again until September 2020.
Finally, at age 52, double the age he was when he knocked out Byrd, Ibeabuchi returned to the ring in August 2025 in his native Nigeria and stopped 18-8-2 Idris Afinni in three rounds. Four months later, Ibeabuchi’s 30-plus-year run as an undefeated boxer came to an end when he dropped a close unanimous decision to 26-16 Kabiru Towolawi.
And so disappeared the most viable marketing pitch for Ibeabuchi. Even though any video clip made abundantly clear that his window to compete against world-class heavyweights had closed, a zero on the end of his record kept arguments in his favor faintly alive. Now he’s just some middle-aged man with a record of 21-1 (16 KOs), and those numbers don’t feel like must-see TV — and especially don’t feel like must-pay-$9.95-to-see TV.
I love ‘90s nostalgia as much as the next guy. I’ll cue up “Siamese Dream” or “The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion” for a long car ride, I’ll fire up a random “Seinfield” rerun. Right now I’m in the middle of watching a new documentary series about O.J. Simpson.
But whereas diving into nostalgia can delight because it allows you to briefly relive your youth, watching nostalgia acts perform in the present day can have the opposite effect —making you feel old and depressed. The “Use Your Illusion” albums sound as good now as they did in 1991, but listening to Axl Rose try to sing those songs in 2026 stings like an Ibeabuchi uppercut. (Feel free to insert your own McCall/“Don’t Cry” joke here.)
The concept of moving forward with a boxing match only if it receives a certain level of advance fan support is fascinating and potentially groundbreaking. What if, amid the debates over where Tyson Fury vs. Anthony Joshua should take place, they had put up expensive tickets for Wembley Stadium and said if it sells out within 24 hours, it happens there? What if a promoter says Ryan Garcia is going to fight either Teofimo Lopez, Devin Haney or Gervonta “Tank” Davis on Cinco de Mayo weekend, puts all three fights on sale for pre-order and finalizes the opponent based on which one attracts the most money?
In the case of McCall vs. Ibeabuchi, PrizeFighting TV is giving the public the opportunity to reject a fight that most of us find utterly gross. When Donovan “Razor” Ruddock faced James Toney in a six-round charity exhibition match in 2023, there was nothing we could do but look away. This time, we have the power to prevent two men who are a combined 114 years old from punching each other in the head.
Legends never die. Here’s hoping boxing fans have the good sense to ensure this fight is never born.