Ah, Cinco de Mayo. That one weekend each year when boxing and Mexican pride should come together in the most electrifying way possible — the fans, the culture, the energy. You know, everything that makes boxing great.

But instead, what do we get? Saudi Arabia. Yeah, because when you think of Cinco de Mayo, Riyadh is exactly where your mind goes — home of oil money, sports-washing, and a whole lot of hypocrisy.

Canelo Alvarez is about to face William Scull in a sauna in the desert at 6 a.m. local time, streamed live on DAZN PPV. And it’s about as authentic as a knockoff sombrero at a tourist trap. Let’s not kid ourselves here — this has nothing to do with the electric atmosphere of Cinco de Mayo in Mexico or the U.S.. What we’ll have instead is a sleeping audience of Saudis wondering if they’re supposed to be watching a fight or a commercial for oil.

But hey, who cares about the fans, the culture, or the sport? The only thing real here is the Saudi cash flowing into promoters’ pockets — and Canelo’s, of course.

Cinco De Mayo Should Be Fun — But It’s Not Supposed to Be in Saudi Arabia

Let’s get one thing straight: Cinco de Mayo is supposed to be cool, it’s supposed to be fun, and it’s supposed to be about Mexican culture, not some corporate-sponsored farce. It’s about Lucha Libre, cheering for your fighter, spicy food, and the buzzing energy in the air. But now? We’ve got this half-baked spectacle in Riyadh, where the only tradition is to throw around money until it looks like a real event.

Can you even imagine Cinco de Mayo in Mexico, Los Angeles, or Las Vegas?
Canelo vs. GGG was electric because it had meaning, real culture, and actual fans.

Now? We’ve got Saudi Arabia offering a buy-one-get-one-free deal on fights no one asked for, and the whole thing feels as out of place as a sombrero in a snowstorm.

Sure, the Saudi government is probably thrilled to call this their new “Cinco de Mayo tradition,” but the real people who care — the fans, the culture, and the sport? They don’t matter here. It’s all about making sure the promoters and Canelo get their paychecks.

Boxers, Fans, and Media — All Lining Up to Lick the Saudi Sandals

You’d think we were watching the second coming of Muhammad Ali, the way boxers, reporters, and media outlets are practically gagging on Saudi a** to get a sniff of the fight and cash. Apparently, there’s nothing more important than sports-washing for a regime with an infinite supply of cash.

It’s like boxing journalism turned into a bad joke. Reporters can’t stop drooling over the chance to cover the event — as long as they get a few perks tossed their way. Meanwhile, the big boxing outlets that had the gall to actually question any of this? Banned. Yep, Saudi Arabia took one look at the truth and said, “Nope, not today, boxing media, not today.” You want to report some truth about the Eubank-Benn fight? Banned. Top major boxing outlets were simply banned from the entire event at Tottenham Stadium, Saudi style. Don’t even ask questions — just shut up and take the free stuff.

It’s so embarrassing watching everyone sell their integrity for a press pass to this circus. Who needs journalistic independence when you’ve got Saudi money?

But hey, don’t worry — the promoters are laughing all the way to the bank, and boxing fans everywhere are stuck clapping like trained seals, pretending this whole spectacle isn’t a slap in the face to what boxing is supposed to stand for.

The Fight Sucks, The Atmosphere Is Fake, And We All Know It

Let’s call it like it is:

• This isn’t about boxing tradition. It’s about using Saudi oil money to buy respect.

• This isn’t about the fans. It’s about who can spend more money to get the fight on a platform.

• This isn’t about legacy. It’s about making sure wallets stay full before the ring is even set up.

• This isn’t a real celebration of Mexican pride. It’s an artificial, soulless, worthless event.

Final Thought: Boxing Didn’t Just Sell Out — It Handed Over The Keys to Saudi Arabia

Boxing didn’t just sell out for this event.
It handed over the keys to its soul and let Saudi Arabia do whatever it wanted. The sport, once full of passion and pride, is now just a glorified payday for promoters who couldn’t care less about the heart of the sport.

Instead of feeling the electric atmosphere of Mexico City or Vegas, we’re now stuck with a fake Saudi celebration that feels more out of place than a Luchador mask in a boardroom.

Enjoy your “Cinco de Mayo” in Riyadh, folks.
It’s not about Cinco de Mayo anymore.
It’s about money. And boxing lost its soul.