Rematches in boxing happen for all manner of reasons and some are more valid than others. The best ones, of course, tend to be a celebration and continuation of fight one, with the promise of more of the same being the primary reason for part two. So long as fight one was close enough, a great fight will always beget a rematch and fans will happily ignore the fact that history suggests sequels seldom eclipse the original. Until that is proven correct, the excitement builds, money is made, and the two fighters involved get ready to return to the same dark place as before. 

Less exciting, but no less important, are rematches born of controversy. These may not follow great fights, or even fights people have an urge to re-watch, but are still essential, if only for the purpose of clearing up ambiguity and providing clarity. If, for example, a fight ends in a controversial decision, calls for a rematch will inevitably follow, led either by the loser, commentators, or fans. Similarly, if a fight is stopped prematurely, or with some degree of doubt, the best thing to do is start again – on another date – and rectify whatever supposedly went wrong the first time around. 

Each of those reasons for rematches, though they might stem from controversy, are relatively pure. Whether a bad decision, or a dodgy stoppage, any call for a rematch is both an admission of wrongdoing – even if implicit – and an attempt to correct this wrongdoing in the only way boxing knows how. In those instances, rematches are only ever good things. They are signs of progress. They are signs of maturity. 

Occasionally, though, rematches will happen for the wrong reasons. They will happen just for the sake of it, or just because a fighter has started to run out of options, so must start again. This we have seen, to some extent, with Oleksandr Usyk in recent times, whose own brilliance has almost stymied him when it comes to finding decent opposition to help grow his legacy. 

Recently we watched Usyk stop Daniel Dubois in five rounds at Wembley Stadium in a rematch of a fight from two years ago in which Usyk barely broke sweat. There was only one moment, in fact, where Usyk seemed remotely troubled in fight one and that was in round five when Dubois struck him low. Dubois, of course, claimed the shot was legal, not low, and so did his team. They then continued to push this narrative for the next two years as Dubois rebuilt his career and secured some admittedly solid wins. 

Come 2025, and Dubois and his team had successfully rebranded a one-sided fight as a controversial one and managed to land a rematch with Usyk on the basis of that single moment: the low blow. It was, in truth, a rematch few were calling for, but it had controversy as a selling point and Usyk, the heavyweight champion of the world, was fast running out of options. He had, you see, already given rematches to everyone else: Anthony Joshua, Tyson Fury. Now the reasons for giving rematches were different in Usyk’s world. Now, through no fault of his own, they were being dished out to those who shouted loudest and who managed to have a modicum of success against the great Ukrainian. Perhaps they won a round, for example. Or whacked him low and watched him writhe on the canvas in pain. Whatever it was, Usyk has of late been proffering rematches with an uncommon generosity and developed something of a reputation as a result. It’s why fighters, including Tyson Fury and even Derek Chisora, remain hopeful of having another crack at the heavyweight king. It’s why so many of his peers believe in second and third chances. 

The question is, does a fighter always deserve a second or third chance? If we’re talking the likes of Fury, Joshua, Dubois and Chisora, well, that’s up to Usyk; it’s his prerogative. But when it comes to fighters getting second chances following a failed performance-enhancing drug test, that’s a little different. What is more, in the context of rematches, there is something undeniably grim about the thought of a fighter embroiled in drug controversy being allowed to not only return to the sport, but do so against the very opponent they defeated when allegedly “enhanced”. 

That could happen in the case of Francisco Rodriguez, the Mexican flyweight whose win over Galal Yafai on June 21 was marred by a failed PED test for the drug heptaminol. Heptaminol, a stimulant, is, in addition to being used as a masking agent, known to boost an athlete’s stamina, increase blood flow to muscles and help combat fatigue. If found in Rodriguez’s system, which it was, heptaminol could – and should – be considered a contributing factor in how Rodriguez fought against Yafai last month. 

And yet, five weeks on, we still await his punishment. Last week, the World Boxing Council (WBC) announced that they had opted not to suspend Rodriguez but to put him on a 12-month probation period, whatever that means. They said the result of the fight – a decision win for Rodriguez – was now null and void and that the fight was officially a “no contest”, which in turn hands the WBC interim title back to Yafai. They also proposed that this confusion and controversy should lead to only one thing: a rematch. 

In a statement, they explained: “After a thorough factual and scientific review of the adverse finding, and considering champion Rodriguez’s admission of the circumstances of his non-intentional ingestion of a banned substance, and the fact that Mr Rodriguez had reported in his WBC CBP registration document the use of an over-the-counter energy booster which label included two banned substanced [sic], the WBC and champion Rodriguez agreed to enter into an adjudication agreement.”

For now, despite all this grandstanding on the part of the WBC, nothing has really changed. According to BoxRec.com, the fight between Rodriguez and Yafai is still down as a Rodriguez “win” and the reality is, the WBC have only so much sway in this situation. After all, the bout on June 21 took place under the jurisdiction of the British Boxing Board of Control, which means it is they, the BBBC, who have the authority to apply a sanction. For that reason, Rodriguez must wait for their verdict before getting too carried away. 

In some respects, being put on probation by the WBC for a failed drug test is not unlike being given one of their interim titles. It means something to some people and nothing to everyone else. “The fighter [Rodriguez] will be on ‘probation’ for twelve months, during which tests will be conducted, and if they were to fail, they would face immediate sanctions regarding the previous test,” explained WBC President Mauricio Sulaiman when asked about Rodriguez’s probation. “The sanction is exclusively from the WBC.”

More concerning than the stance taken by the WBC is the idea of a rematch between Rodriguez and Yafai occurring during, or even after, that 12-month probation period. If, historically, rematches have been used to fix and clear up things, a rematch between Rodriguez and Yafai would be very much going against the grain. Rather than fix, it would only exacerbate the damage and muddy the waters. It would offer Rodriguez another chance to do what he has already done – damage, in other words – and put Yafai back in the ring with the man responsible for doing all that damage. 

Being a fighter, of course, Yafai will likely see only redemption and revenge when he looks at Rodriguez again. But there is a reason why fighters need saving from themselves and there is a reason, too, why authority figures are supposed to intervene and establish what is right and what is wrong. 

Like teachers or headmasters, it is they who must decide when a disruptive pupil can return to the classroom. That is not the job of fellow pupils, nor the job of the disruptive pupil’s parents. It should instead lie squarely at the feet of those in positions of power, with any decision they make predicated on the severity of the transgression. There is, for instance, a big difference between the pupil who talks back and chews gum and the pupil who one day showed up for school with a weapon and a manifesto. 

No doubt, if it were up to him, Yafai would fight Rodriguez again and believe things would be different the second time around. Maybe they would as well. Maybe, without traces of heptaminol in his system, Rodriguez wouldn’t be able to throw as many punches and wouldn’t seem quite so immune to tiredness over 12 rounds. Maybe Yafai would find himself fuelled by his indignation and be more determined than ever to prove karma exists. 

Either way, when it comes to a rematch, that should be the decision of Galal Yafai and no one else. It was Yafai who took the punches in fight one and it was from his career Rodriguez, the “winner”, took years. A result can always be changed and belts can be handed back, but damage can never be undone. This Yafai will know. His brother, Gamal, arguably summed it up best when he took to social media to write: “A 12-month ban and a rematch… couldn’t write it and what a load of conmen.”

Clearly there will now be some animosity between the two camps and perhaps rightly so. It was, for Yafai, not only a punishing defeat physically but also one destined to leave a mark on him psychologically. That would have been true on the night, long before the fight found its proper context, but now that we know Rodriguez was aided by heptaminol, there are a whole range of emotions attached to this fight and this particular opponent. For any fighter, that is no good; not healthy. For Yafai, 32, any desire to get revenge, or prove a point, must now be balanced by some mature, long-term thinking. He must also keep in mind that sometimes saying “no” and simply walking away is the best form of revenge – at least among those of us who don’t fight.