The reinvention of Errol Spence in a post-truth world

Whenever Errol “The Truth” Spence was asked to discuss his welterweight title fight with Terence Crawford in 2023, he did as just about every boxer has done since time immemorial.

He lied.

Only these were not the kind of lies that break up friendships or marriages, or the kind that will lose a person a job or have them unravel in court. They were instead little lies. Necessary ones. They were the kind of lies that owe more to instinct or reflex than deviousness or any desire to deceive. They were, in a sport like boxing, perhaps par for the course; part of the performance; permissible. Boxing, after all, is a world in which human beings use their hands to turn each other black and blue and a world in which ethical gray areas exist. It is therefore only right that there should be room for white lies.

Advertisement

In Las Vegas three years ago, Spence brought with him plenty. Starting at the Grand Arrivals, where no statement is ever taken seriously, Spence said of his fight with Crawford: “It’s definitely happening at the right time,” which, although when said was not considered a lie, would later become one with hindsight. “It has a lot of hype around it on social media and there are a lot of people talking about it,” Spence continued. “I would walk in stores before the fight was made and the first thing people would ask me was: ‘When are you and Terence going to fight?’

“I’m in my prime. He’s in his prime. We are the two best fighters in the welterweight division and two of the best fighters in the world. Whoever wins on Saturday night will be the best fighter in boxing, period.”

At that stage, just four days from fight night, there was a kernel of truth to that sentiment. Both men frequented the upper echelons of the mythical pound-for-pound list and both found in each other the career-defining test they had been craving. Moreover, at that stage we had no idea which of the two, Spence or Crawford, would emerge from the fight victorious. All we had to go on was past form and their words, sincere or otherwise.

“I’m going to win because I’m the better fighter — physically, mentally, it doesn’t matter,” Spence said at a Thursday press conference hosted at the T-Mobile Arena. “I’m going to break him down and break his will.

Advertisement

“He will find out that my skills are superior,” Spence then added, just as Crawford, sitting alongside Spence at the top table, rolled his eyes. “He’s talented, but when we talk about skill set and what my coach teaches, my trainer [Derrick James] teaches fundamentals; he teaches sound basics. That’s what he’s going to find out: that I do have great defense, I do have great offense, I do have great stamina. I don’t just have talent.”

While it was our responsibility, as journalists, to passively sit and write or record these pre-fight lies, Crawford, Spence’s opponent, had the license to doubt, or at least raise an eyebrow upon hearing them. Had we, the ones seated in press rows, possessed the same impulse to be dismissive, or simply a greater level of insight, we too might have reacted in a similar way. Someone might have stormed the pulpit and shouted “liar!” as Spence evangelized about his training camp, his coach, and his chances in the fight. They might have thrust an accusatory finger, proposed a lie detector test, or asked Grok. They might have said to Spence, “Now tell us how you really feel, Errol. What is the truth? Who is ‘The Truth’?”

But no. Because at that point we didn’t know any better, and because we are, as unwitting members of the charade, accustomed to being told by a boxer that training camp was great and that they are in the best shape of their life, we decided, as we must, to place our trust in the hands of the untrustworthy. Besides, back in the summer of 2023, what reason was there to doubt him? Spence at the time had a record of 28-0 and the fight, years in the making, was everything both he and Crawford, 39-0, said it was.

In 2023, there was frankly no fight more intriguing or important. There was no fight that year harder to call, either, which is so often a sign of a fight’s greatness. Predictions were made, yes, but nobody knew. Not really. Even when the time came for the boxers to make theirs, not one of us had a clue who or what to believe.

“I always tell everybody I don’t go in there looking for the knockout. I go there looking for the win,” said Crawford. “But if he gets out of line …”

Advertisement

“I’ve been getting out of line my whole life,” Spence replied.

“Well, s***, I’m about to take my belt off then.”

“Do it. You’ll need more than a belt. I ain’t one of your kids.”

“I’ll treat you like one.”

“We’ll see.”

“We’re definitely going to see.”

Two days later, we did. With the pair reacquainted in the ring, where the truth wills itself out, we saw Crawford deliver on everything he said pre-fight to masterfully dissect, discipline and destroy Spence in nine one-sided rounds. It was a victory so one-sided, in fact, that there was almost a temptation to call them both liars. We had, after all, expected something competitive, something compelling, and something that would lead to additional chapters and a money-spinning rematch later in the year. Instead of that, we got a clinic, a beatdown, a premature end to what should have been a layered, long-running drama. We watched Crawford become “the best fighter in boxing, period” and bowed down to his genius, accepting that his genius was the reason why the fight was not as close as we had expected, as well as the reason why they would never fight again.

Advertisement

He was just that good, Crawford; and sadly Spence, for all his talent, could do little about it. He wasn’t necessarily found out that night, but he certainly found out. He found out that Crawford had his number and he found out that even between great champions, which these two were, there are sometimes levels. “I appreciate you,” Crawford told Spence in the ring after the fight, wanting to console him. “If it wasn’t for you, this fight would have never happened. You’re a hell of a fighter. I don’t even need to tell you that; you already know that.”

After a fight, fighters can afford to be honest again. They can now tell the world and each other what they really think and feel, as though the relief of surviving has created in them a sudden urge to share and spread the truth. When, for instance, Terence Crawford called Errol Spence a “hell of a fighter” he actually meant it. It wasn’t just something he said to further enhance the magnitude of what he had moments ago done to this “hell of a fighter” inside the ring. It was an opinion he had suppressed for days, weeks, months, maybe even years, and one he would air only once there was no danger of it being used against him. Also, when Crawford essentially thanked Spence for agreeing to the fight, he surely meant that, too, if only because the fight had been a long time coming and both had made a lot of money when it finally came. The appreciation, you sensed, was mutual by then, this being the aftermath.

Advertisement

In the aftermath of a fight, no longer is there a reason to lie or promote. If, beforehand, lying is part of a fighter’s defense — no different than the ability to block, slip, or parry punches — what we often see after a fight is the lowering of that defense, and with it their mask. It is only then, of course, you get honesty. It is only then you start getting to the truth.

Three years on from the night his house of cards collapsed, Errol Spence is at last ready to rebuild, this time from a foundation of honesty, we are led to believe.

It starts on Saturday, the rebuild. That’s the day Spence will fight Tim Tszyu in Sydney, Australia as a middleweight (160 pounds), aiming to both forget and remind. He will, following 36 months of inactivity, once more be called to the ring by his nom de guerre, “The Truth,” aware that its meaning has changed since it was last heard in 2023. Then again, the same is true of Spence.

Advertisement

According to Spence, the focus during his three-year absence was on being a father, not a fighter, and most days he answered to “EJ,” the nickname primarily used by friends and family members — that is, people who love him. With no need to train or fight anymore, and no need to play tough or pretend, Errol Junior could finally drop the act: the ring monikers, the posturing, whatever weight was on his shoulders. He could also heal, bury his ego, and get over the physical and psychological damage inflicted by the hands of Crawford in 2023. Best of all, a break from boxing would allow Spence to discover what it means to be honest and come clean.

“Man, that camp [for the Terence Crawford fight] was bulls***,” Spence revealed to Andre Ward, the former two-weight world champion, in a June episode of “The Art of Ward.” “I didn’t spar for probably six or seven weeks.”

With that single admission Spence had indeed come clean. He had by doing so reframed just about everything he said before the Crawford fight as a pack of lies and lifted from his shoulders one final weight.

“No secret can or should be kept from everybody for ever,” wrote the Spanish novelist Javier Marías in his book “All Souls.” “Once in its life, once in the lifetime of that secret, it is obliged to find at least one recipient … that’s why we always condemn ourselves by what we say. Not by what we do.”

Advertisement

For Errol Spence, that recipient was Ward, a fellow fighter who might just understand.

“There was just a lot of stuff that went wrong in that camp,” Spence continued. “The sparring partners I had didn’t fit. I had no southpaws to spar. None of that. It was all out of whack.

“I was basically living wrong, bro. When you’re young you get in camp thinking you’re good now, but even out of camp you’ve got to live right.

“I’m cool now because I’ve been living right. I ain’t been drinking or none of that. I’ve been working out. Once I get into camp now, I’m free-flowing. In that camp everything was just out of whack.”

Advertisement

Whether an excuse or an explanation, we had it now. We had, on the one hand, proof of why it went so badly wrong for Spence in Las Vegas that July night in 2023. We also had permission to forever doubt the words any boxer says before a big fight; a reminder that fighters will, because of the precarious nature of their profession, do everything in their power to fight and get paid. “I knew that this maximum payout [for the Crawford fight] was going to take care of my family, even if I’m not here,” said Spence. “I didn’t know if I was going to box again. I felt like that before the fight.”

Before the fight Spence was consumed by negative thoughts, the result of substandard preparation and niggling injuries, and this mental baggage traveled with him wherever he went. In Las Vegas, where for three weeks all he did by way of training was hit bags, mitts, and run, Spence had to seek clearance for cortisone shots in his damaged ribs. What he really needed, however, was a shot in the arm.

“I was just feeling weak, depleted,” Spence recalled. “I was just feeling out of it. Even if I worked out, I felt like I wasn’t getting stronger. I wasn’t getting any muscles. No matter how much ab work I was doing — core work or whatever — it just wasn’t translating into a better performance or me being cut up, ripped up, and in shape.”

Advertisement

By the time he made it to the T-Mobile Arena on fight night, Spence was resigned to meeting both Crawford and the truth. He knew all of his lies had been told. He knew there were no places left to hide.

“I was tired,” he confessed. “I ain’t really sleep like that because I already knew. In my mind I thought this fight is going to be competitive and I could win. But I’d felt it for like a month and some change — like, ‘Damn, you’re doing this for your family, you’re doing this for your family.’ I kind of felt like it could be bad.

“But at the end of the day, you’ve got to be a man. I wasn’t going to not fight, because then I didn’t know when I would have returned. I could have been returning now, three years later. I wasn’t going to be one of the fighters who did that. I had to do what was best for me.”

In 2023, doing what was best for Errol Spence meant taking a fight he felt, deep down, he was unlikely to win just to secure a future for his family. Having then secured it, the notion of what was best for Errol Spence started to shift. Now, to secure his own future, Spence had to move away from the lying and the fighting and for once be honest with himself. Forget why and how he suffered his first professional loss. He now had to acknowledge that he was in danger of losing everything on account of his capacity to self-destruct.

Advertisement

“I needed that break and that time off,” he told Ward. “It definitely was a positive taking that long off from boxing and going to the gym — not just physically, but to get everything right mentally and become more of a functional man. A man with morals and standards and being about my family. Really being who I say I am on camera.”

With the screen between the fighter and the man now shattered, here’s what we know about Errol Spence in July 2026. One: We know it has been three years since we last saw him in a boxing ring. Two: We know he is now 36 years of age. Three: We know he is no longer a world champion. Four: We know his record currently stands at 28-1 (22 KOs) and that his only loss came against Terence Crawford. Five: We know he now intends to campaign at super welterweight, despite his next fight being at middleweight. Six: We know he is today trained by Ronnie Shields.

Those, at the time of writing, are the facts at least; the things we can state with some degree of certainty. Everything else, though, will likely be questioned, or deemed just noise. Whether you choose to believe Spence or not will depend entirely on how much you trust a fighter — any fighter — preparing for a fight.

Advertisement

“Camp has been great. I can’t complain at all,” said Spence last month in Houston, where he has been training to fight Tim Tszyu, 27-3 (18 KOs), this weekend in Australia. “We’re putting in the work and leaving no stone unturned. I’m excited.

“Ronnie’s style fits me well. I’ve always been a huge fan of Jermall [Charlo] and how he fights. Plus, Ronnie has the experience too. I listened to Ronnie’s concept of training and I felt like it fit me to a tee. When we worked out, the chemistry felt really good.”

Meanwhile, on the issue of timing, Spence is again saying all the right things. The only difference now, in 2026, is that rather than commenting on the timing of a superfight — that 2023 clash with Crawford — he is now commenting on the timing of his decision to return having lost one. The buildup to both events — the superfight, the return — will have been roughly the same in terms of years, but whereas in 2023 we were fed a fantasy, there is a feeling now that Spence has far less of a reason to lie — to us, to himself.

“This was the right time to come back, and against the right opponent,” he said. “My body feels good, so I said, ‘Why not?’

Advertisement

“My motivation to come back is about myself and my personal goals. Everything about training just excites me. You’ve got to enjoy it while it lasts, because one day it’ll be over. I’m taking it one fight at a time.”

Although he still finds comfort in clichés, this is perhaps the most honest Errol Spence has sounded for quite some time. It is, on the face of it, the tune of a mature man, a beaten man, a changed man. It suggests that the days of hiding behind a nickname are over and that he has, in the past three years, realized “The Truth” must represent more than just a boast or some declaration of sporting dominance. It must instead be a call to action and a code by which to live.

Only then will Errol Spence start to believe again. Only then can he be believed.