Las Vegas was the fight capital of the world… but here’s the inside story of why Sin City abandoned boxing

The sun is setting over The Strip by the time Jacob “Stitch” Duran walks into the Mayweather Boxing Club for the final leg of his gym run.

The cutman, 72, is one of the most respected figures in boxing, having worked with fighters such as Andre Ward, Tyson Fury and both Klitschko brothers.

Every now and then, Duran tours the fight clubs of his adopted hometown – just to “shoot the shit,” he says. “God, it can’t get any better than that.”

We’re just days away from the heavyweight title rematch between Fury and Oleksandr Usyk. But in this corner of Chinatown, a short drive from the casinos and the chaos, all is quiet.

Part of the Mayweather clan is gathered on plastic chairs. A few fighters are finishing their training. This was once the epicenter of boxing’s biggest fights, where Floyd Mayweather honed his skills before heading south for a few minutes to make his fortune.

Mayweather’s name remains above the door. His face still looks across the ring from posters and paintings. Signs still remind fighters to pay their dues and leave their weapons at home. But today, Floyd is somewhere else, and so are the eyes of the boxing world.

Five years ago this month, Anthony Joshua defeated Andy Ruiz in Diriyah. It was the first heavyweight title fight in the Middle East and the night the sands began to shift from Nevada to the desert of Saudi Arabia. Fury and Usyk meet again on Saturday in Riyadh.

But for so long, this was Fight Town. The boxing capital of the world. Now boxing is, as one figure puts it, all but “abandoned” in Las Vegas. Many fear it will never return. At least not as it once was. Boxing now has new bedfellows. This also applies to Sin City.

In recent weeks, Vegas has hosted Formula 1, rodeo, the NBA Cup final and a gathering of golf’s biggest stars. The city already has NFL, NHL and WNBA teams; Work is underway to build an MLB franchise in ‘Sports Town USA’. But as it stands now, there is only one Vegas world title fight on the calendar.

It doesn’t matter that many in boxing still call this home. At the Mayweather gym, Duran embraces former world champions Cornelius Boza-Edwards and Joel Casamayor. And every three minutes the bell sounds to signal the end of a new round. Even after the gym is empty.

‘The Immortal’ Joe Louis stands at the roulette tables at Caesars Palace. The former heavyweight champion was not involved in the first major fight in Vegas, which was held in an old baseball field in 1955. He never fought here. But the Brown Bomber was “instrumental” when boxing took over Las Vegas.

Louis worked as a greeter at Caesars and his statue still stands in the casino.

“When we traveled all over the world, people would tell us, ‘I met Joe Louis at Caesars Palace!'” recalls Gene Kilroy, Muhammad Ali’s right-hand man and former Vegas casino executive. ‘That’s how it all started here. The athletes would come, and then the people would come. And then the fighting came.’

In this neon city, green always shines brightest and boxing offered hotels an opportunity to their favorite customers: people who have money and are willing to risk it in the casinos.

“I remember they said when Elvis was at the Hilton the game drop wasn’t that high, but boxing… I had a guy here who lost $12 million for the Ali vs. (Larry) Holmes fight,” says Kilroy.

‘He had his picture taken with Ali. He had dinner with Ali. That was the highlight of his life. He wasn’t worried about the $12 million.”

Televised fights, meanwhile, provided “advertisement” at a time when many Americans were still learning the — er, unique — appeal of Vegas.

“Lloyd Price, the great singer, said when the fighting was here, forget about getting a hotel room. You couldn’t even get a call because it was so busy,” Kilroy said.

“When Ali fought Leon Spinks (in 1978), I invited Elvis’ father.” They met after The Greatest lost. “Ali said, ‘I hope I haven’t let you down,’” Kilroy recalls. The answer? “You could never abandon me, my son loved you so much.”

Few figures blend boxing and show business like “Stitch” Duran. He was hired as Wladimir Klitschko’s cutman after starring in his Vegas fight in the movie “Ocean’s Eleven.”

He belonged here, just like boxing. The glitter, the show, the money. “The history,” says former welterweight king Shawn Porter. Gyms were a “hotbed” of talent and when the call came to fight on The Strip, the fighters knew, “We finally made it.”

Gambling revenue allowed casinos to offer promoters unparalleled profits; fans were assured of a week full of vice and violence in this ‘Disneyland for adults’.

“It was more of a legitimate, magnetic destination for the fights than any other place I covered them,” says legendary HBO announcer Jim Lampley.

Major fighting took over the city; Frank Sinatra and other A-listers would swarm ringside.

“It was magical,” says an insider. And it remained that way until recently. Floyd Mayweather vs. Conor McGregor in 2017, Porter says, is “the only fight I’ve been to where every actor, every comedian, every musician, every athlete came out.”

He remembers running into Ice Cube and introducing himself. “I know who you are,” the rapper responded. “My jaw just dropped open.”

The fight itself accomplished nothing, but many other fights lit up The Strip. The Caesars parking lot became hallowed ground thanks to Ali, ‘Sugar’ Ray Leonard, Thomas Hearns and Co. Mayweather turned the MGM Grand into a second home; this city made him the world’s highest-paid athlete. In his heyday, Mayweather’s fights were said to be worth more than $100 million to the Vegas economy.

Few rounds in history have been as gloriously chaotic as the tenth between Diego Corrales and Jose Luis Castillo at Mandalay Bay, when Corrales climbed off the canvas twice before stopping his rival.

Next year will mark 20 years since that fight took place – and 18 years since Corrales’ death at just 29 years old. His widow, Michelle Corrales-Lewis, now devotes her life to preserving the legacy of boxing in Las Vegas. She is CEO of the Nevada Boxing Hall of Fame.

“There was a time when (if) you made it to the lights of Vegas… it meant something,” Corrales-Lewis says. “I can only keep praying that they get (fights) here again.”

The problem? Vegas had already started looking elsewhere before Saudi Arabia delved into boxing’s deepest pockets and took control of the sport. “It just doesn’t capture the city like it used to,” says Tim Dahlberg, who chronicled the history of boxing here in “Fight Town.”

Kilroy believes the beginning of the end came when the Klitschkos controlled the heavyweight division from Germany. Others blame promoters – fearing they have chased ‘fool’s gold’ – and boxers for fighting too infrequently.

For so long, gambling just meant boxing in the desert. Casinos would compete to host major fights.

Now? “It would be difficult” to get anyone interested, Dahlberg says. That’s despite Porter insisting that the gyms are “heating up again” and that Saudi Arabia will “never replace a fight in Vegas.”

Now other sports offer more reliable income and hotels have found different revenue streams. Like conventions. “There’s always another way,” said Kilroy, who is 84 and still lives here.

Corrales-Lewis hopes a boxing museum will one day open on The Strip. The sport is not quite history yet. But by the time Duran leaves the Mayweather Boxing Club, the sun has almost set on Chinatown.

“There was a romance and a very serious relationship between the city and boxing – and they both benefited incredibly from that,” says Dahlberg. ‘It was a great era. But eras come and go. And this one has all but disappeared.”