1. Bob Arum – The Undisputed Fossil God of Boxing

Bob Arum is the boss of all bosses. The guy who’s been pulling strings in this  game since before half these new-school promoters were even ideas in a pub toilet. You don’t “work with” Bob — you kiss the ring, shut up, and pray he doesn’t freeze you out for five years.

He’s got that old-school gangster energy. Gravel in the voice. Venom in the contract. If you owe him money, he remembers. If you cross him? Forget about it. Bob doesn’t do forgiveness — he does payback with interest.

He’s promoted every legend from Ali to Inoue and never once gave a damn what Twitter thinks. He built this sport from smoke-filled rooms and backroom deals, not YouTube thumbnails and DAZN hashtags. While Eddie’s doing interviews with TikTokers, Turki’s throwing money at fighters on Time Square and Haymon’s hiding in a fortress, Bob’s busy controlling belts like rackets and forcing mandatories like shakedowns.

Stable – past and present: Tyson Fury (part-time), Beterbiev (breaks faces for fun), Inoue (flawless execution), Lomachenko (the hitman with footwork), Shakur (steals rounds, not hearts), Teofimo (split personality with power), and enough elite talent to run three main events a month — if Bob felt like it.

2. Turki Alalshikh – Boxing’s Oil-Fueled Overlord

He’s not really a promoter — he’s a walking ATM. Turki bankrolls entire cards with oil money  while pretending it’s about “growing the sport.”

 Don’t ask how a guy with no matchmaking history ended up running the sport — just know if you dangle enough billions, even sanctioning bodies start saying “yes, sir.”

He doesn’t build fights. He orders them like Uber Eats. Fury-Usyk? Bought. Joshua-Ngannou? Pocket change. Canelo vs. Crawford? Yeah, he made that too — just woke up one day and decided the impossible should happen… on Netflix…

The shows? Massive budget. Zero soul. You get pyrotechnics, orchestras, laser beams — and a crowd quieter than a dentist’s waiting room.

Still, credit where it’s due: Turki did what five promoters, five networks, and ten lawsuits couldn’t. He made HUGE fights and even Canelo vs. Crawford. And probably didn’t even blink doing it.

Stable – past and present: Everyone with a price tag.

3. Frank Warren – Britain’s Last Real Boxing G

Frank Warren’s a straight-up man of honor who’s been through more wars outside the ring than most fighters inside it. He’s been shot, sued, betrayed, and outlived by most of his own prospects — and he’s still here. Frank’s the tough old bastard of UK boxing. You don’t survive five decades in this game unless you’re meaner than the fighters. And he is.

Frank’s new comeback to the top isn’t a redemption arc. It’s a bloody ambush. He didn’t just survive — he came back swinging and beat Matchroom at their own game and now secured 3rd place. Eddie Hearn plays the game. Frank owns the turf, writes the rules, and breaks your nose if you argue.

He runs Queensberry like a pissed-off pub landlord — 100% loyal to his lads but brutal with outsiders, and always one pint away from swinging at someone ringside.

When Frank walks into a room, the temperature drops. He’s the type of guy who’d rather lose a fortune than back down from a grudge. Ask any fighter who’s ever tried to leave him dirty — they’ll tell you how that went.

Stable – past and present: Tyson Fury (most of the time), Zhilei Zhang (China’s left hand of doom), Joe Joyce (sponge chin, granite head), Daniel Dubois (low blow, low blow), Moses Itauma (still legal to call a prospect), and a few more Brits who punch like they owe him rent (Fabio Wardley)

4. Eddie Hearn – Boxing’s Salesman-in-Chief

Eddie could sell ketchup popsicles to a white-shirted crowd. Every event’s “massive,” every card’s “stacked,” and every boxer he signs is “the next big star.” Eddie could sell a drowning man a swimming pool. He’d shake your hand, smile like he’s your mate, then sell you a £30 PPV full of mismatches and say, “It’s a cracker, mate.” And somehow… you’d buy it. He’s all gelled hair,  charm, and a sales pitch so polished it should come with a disclaimer.

No promoter in the world can waffle like Hearn. He’ll tell you a six-rounder at the O2 is “historic,” claim Conor Benn’s “100% innocent” with a straight face, and announce “monstrous fights” that end up headlined by Fabio Wardley vs. some bloke from Slovakia. The man could sell sand to the Saudis — and probably has.

Stable – past and present –  Anthony Joshua (doesn’t throw uppercuts anymore), Conor Benn (allegedly clean), Katie Taylor (undisputed backbone), Dmitry Bivol (no risk, no fun), and half the UK scene pretending they aren’t on 10-fight contracts with no plan.

5. Al Haymon – Boxing’s Shadow Puppetmaster

No one’s ever seen him, but Al Haymon’s fingerprints are on every disasterclass matchmaking decision since 2013. He’s the ghost who built PBC to kill boxing’s soul softly. And it worked. Half his stable fights once every two years.

Stable – past and present: Canelo (on lease), Tank Davis (superstar if he stays out of jail), Errol Spence (eye problems and timing problems), Ennis (waiting forever), Benavidez (real killer, ducked by the world), and two dozen others signed for eternity.

6. Oscar De La Hoya – Glamour and Lawsuits

Oscar used to be the golden boy. Now he’s just golden-tanned, glass-eyed, and permanently online. One minute he’s tweeting like a madman, the next he’s in a silk robe doing interviews no one asked for. It’s not promotion anymore — it’s a public unraveling, and we’re all watching.

This was the guy who had Canelo. Had HBO. Had boxing by the balls. Had a deal with Turki.. Now? He blew it with Turki. Yep. The one man handing out super fights like party favors. While Eddie, Bob, and Warren were kissing rings and making deals, Oscar was too busy starting Twitter beef.

Turki gave him a shot — and Oscar went full Oscar. Now he’s watching Canelo vs. Crawford happen without him, like the ex who got blocked before the wedding.

Stable – past and present: Ryan Garcia, Munguia (eternally “learning”), Vergil Ortiz Jr. (talented but fragile), and some flyweights you couldn’t pick out of a mugshot lineup.

7. Floyd Mayweather – Boxing’s Loudest Ghost

Floyd’s whole promotional outfit is basically a flex. Tank’s the only legit fighter he’s ever built, and now even that’s debatable. Mayweather Promotions exists so Floyd can remind us he once mattered.

Stable – past and present: Tank, Rolly Romero (comedy relief), Curmel Moton (promising but undercooked).

8. Ben Shalom – The Corporate PR Mascot With Gloves

Ben’s not a bad guy. That’s the problem. No grit, no teeth, no chaos. He books cards like he’s trying to win a BAFTA, not a blood-and-guts war. Safe, sterile, Sky-friendly — but zero electricity.  Smiles too much. Talks in HR-approved catchphrases.

And the old guard? They hate his guts. Bob thinks he’s soft. Frank thinks he’s clueless. Eddie pretends he doesn’t exist. And Turki? Probably hasn’t learned his name.

Frank doesn’t just dislike Ben. He despises him.  You think Warren spent five decades surviving bullets, lawsuits, and tabloid wars just to get boxed out by a polite kid in a tailored blazer? Hell no.

Frank sees Shalom as an insult. A posh outsider cosplaying as a fight promoter, with no scars, no grit, no edge.

Stable – past and present: Buatsi (running out of time), Okolie (clinching record holder), Adam Azim (great on posters), Caroline Dubois (future world champ, if she gets real opponents), and Jonas/Marshall/Dubois (women’s scene backbone).

9. Don King – Boxing’s Undead Mascot

He’s still alive. Don King is still promoting fights from an office that hasn’t changed since Desert Storm. Fax machines, rotary phones, paper contracts with coffee stains — it’s like walking into a museum where the curator might sue you for breach of contract.

His office? Pure time capsule. Framed Tyson posters curling at the edges, cigars in the desk drawer, and stacks of VHS tapes labeled “Holyfield ‘96 – DO NOT TAPE OVER.” The Wi-Fi doesn’t work, the carpet hasn’t been cleaned since Lennox Lewis had hair, and somehow he’s still making fights in it.

And not just YouTube cards or club shows — actual sanctioned fights, with rankings, titles, and opponents who weren’t born when he promoted Ali vs. Foreman. He faxes in contracts. FAXES. Fighters sign deals in pen. Journalists call a landline and pray someone picks up. It’s chaos. It’s brilliant. It’s King.

No digital dashboards, no social media interns, just pure old-school manipulation and a voice louder than a ring announcer on Red Bull. He still wears the same sequined flag jackets. Still says “Only in America.” Still believes he’s the best promoter alive — and honestly, who’s going to tell him he’s not?

Every time you think boxing’s moved on, Don lights up a cigar, signs some 10-13 journeyman from Ohio, and books a card in a casino ballroom — and the sport comes crawling back.

He’s not running out of time. Time ran out of everyone else. Long live the King

Stable – past and present: Who cares.

10. Everyone Else – The Forgotten and the Desperate

If you’re not on this list, you’re either broke, irrelevant, or praying Jake Paul notices you. Go start a YouTube channel.