So accustomed are we to seeing Terence Crawford figure out his problems without the help of others, it both comes as a surprise and inevitably leaves room for debate when Crawford has no option but to look elsewhere for assistance, certainty. 

Even in the past when Crawford’s problems have seemed difficult to solve, or have seen him struggle, we have always known him to be someone who eventually settles any issue conclusively, no need for judges, second opinions. In fact, with a staggering 11 stoppage wins in a row, a run that stretches back to 2016, there has for a while been a sense that Crawford is boxing’s premier DIY man, his tools, his hands, his fate only his to decide. He throws the shots, he these days calls the shots, and, when all is said and done, nobody but him determines the outcome of his fights; both when they finish and how they finish.

This all changes, however, when going the distance, as was the case last night (August 3) in Los Angeles. Last night in LA, Crawford, a three-division world champion, had to look outside the ring for help when taken the full 12 rounds for the first time in eight years by Israil Madrimov, the WBA junior-middleweight titlist. Not quite a cry for help, Crawford was nevertheless in need of the input of others when the 12 rounds concluded and nobody at that point knew which of the two fighters had gained the upper hand. Some watching the fight liked Madrimov’s aggression, which he sustained through most rounds, while others preferred Crawford’s poise and smart counterpunching on the back foot. Either way, the result, for once, was not Crawford’s to decide. For the first time in a dozen fights he would now need to be told whether he had won or lost. 

That, for a man who prides himself on his ability to control both his opponents and his destiny, must have been somewhat unnerving. Moreover, it is a testament to Madrimov’s toughness and competitiveness that he, unlike 11 previous Crawford opponents, never once appeared in danger of being hurt by the Nebraskan, much less stopped. 

This resilience of Madrimov was evident early when he swarmed Crawford with no fear of what might come back. Ignoring the boos of the crowd, who sensed too that this could be a long night, the Uzbek stayed true to his game plan and offered Crawford plenty of upper-body movement and a rhythm with which he was patently unfamiliar. He would, for example, purposely march towards Crawford only to then halt once in punching range and from this range try to now get Crawford to open up, using either feints or the mere threat of his size and his restless fists. This, for the fans watching, led to a largely frustrating spectacle, particularly early, yet it was easy to see the method in Madrimov’s work, especially when taking into account just how reticent – by, that is, his usual standards – Crawford appeared when trying to figure out this latest problem. 

Through three rounds, the challenger – meaning Crawford – had landed just 15 of 83 attempted punches and indeed it was not until the third round that he landed his most eye-catching punch so far: a stinging left uppercut. In the very next round, however, Madrimov then connected with a couple of big shots of his own, both right hands; a punch with which he had success throughout the fight. 

The fans, though, wanted more, hence the boos. They wanted more from Madrimov and, in turn, more from Crawford. But, of course, as is often true in boxing, the desire of the peanut gallery contradicted the desire of the two fighters in the ring. For them, the fighters in the ring, the idea of giving more would lead only to them receiving more, something, early on, both Crawford and Madrimov were desperate to avoid. 

As a result, what you had in LA, inside a ring surrounded by big-name celebrities and between ropes awash with Saudi propaganda, was a cagey affair; one solely for the purists. There was, to be clear, no shortage of intelligent moves on the part of Crawford and Madrimov, both with their feet and their hands, but, alas, a classic this was not. 

In round five, Madrimov, perhaps sensing this, got busier with his right hand, landing one on Crawford’s forehead and another on the side of his head. Meanwhile, in the sixth, Crawford, now sporting a small blemish beneath his right eye, operated with a tad more urgency, landing a left-cross, right-hook combination on Madrimov as the champion rolled forward. The eighth was an interesting round, too, if only by virtue of the fact Crawford started to walk Madrimov down, a rare occurrence up to now, only to then encounter and eat a cracking Madrimov right, one so powerful it encouraged Crawford to hold as the bell was about to ring. 

Buoyed by that success, it seemed, Madrimov had a productive round nine. It was in this round he landed a left hook on Crawford and managed to reduce the American to no more than sporadic right jabs thrown from the southpaw stance. That represented a kind of success for Madrimov, for Crawford has long been a fighter known for his willingness to respond and meet fire with fire. That he didn’t do this with Madrimov in round nine only served to provide the champion with even more self-belief going into the final few rounds. 

And yet, Terence Crawford, now 36, is nothing if not adept at finding a way to win and in these final rounds he really came alive. In the 11th, for instance, he nailed Madrimov with a left uppercut before dominating him for the rest of the round, spearing him with sharp counters, now often thrown in pairs, whenever Madrimov advanced. He also performed with similar urgency – the urgency, perhaps, of a man fearful of falling behind – in the final round, a round in which he let his hands go to such a degree that Madrimov almost punished him for this recklessness with a roundhouse right in the dying stages. 

Sadly, for Madrimov, though, it wasn’t enough. His single shots were not enough and, furthermore, the aggression he showed through 12 rounds in the presence of Crawford was not enough to apply the first loss on the Crawford pro record. Instead, it was Madrimov who suffered his first loss, his own record now 10-1 (7), and it was Crawford, 41-0 (31), who walked away victorious, albeit in a way different than usual. This, after all, was a victory of numbers rather than something decisive, absolute. It is a win that will be debated more than just celebrated and it was maybe even a win that didn’t necessarily feel like a win until a man with a microphone read out three male names followed by three scorecards (116-112, 115-113, and 115-113, each in Crawford’s favor).

All this combined to make last night an unusual experience for Crawford, if not an uncomfortable one. Yet if we are to believe that the new WBA junior-middleweight champion must continue to rise through the weight divisions in order to simply be challenged these days, the feeling of discomfort, not to mention uncertainty, is something with which Terence Crawford will no doubt have to make peace.