Hagler Was Never Hidden
“Why nobody told me Marvin Hagler was this cold,” Stevenson wrote on X. He praised Hagler’s jab, movement, inside work, and toughness.
None of that is wrong. Hagler was all of those things. The issue was the tone. Hagler isn’t a deep cut. He isn’t a forgotten champion. He’s one of the sport’s reference points. For many fans, the shock wasn’t that Stevenson admired him. It was that he sounded unfamiliar with him. That reaction didn’t come out of nowhere.
Earlier this year, Shakur Stevenson dismissed Sugar Ray Robinson in an interview, calling him “buns” and saying Robinson didn’t know how to keep his hands up. Stevenson pointed to footage of Robinson taking hooks from Jake LaMotta and questioned the level of opposition Robinson faced.
Those comments stuck. So when Stevenson later sounded amazed by Hagler, fans connected the dots. To them, it looked less like curiosity and more like shallow engagement with boxing history.
The Shoulder Roll Isn’t Saving Him
That criticism spills over into how people judge Stevenson in the ring. He uses a Mayweather-style shoulder roll. The stance looks familiar. The results don’t always follow. When Stevenson stands tall and stays still, the roll becomes easier to work around.
Zepeda Went Right Under It
That showed up clearly in his July fight against William Zepeda at Louis Armstrong Stadium in Queens. Zepeda didn’t try to punch through the guard. He went under it. Right hooks to the ribs. Shots to the belly. Over and over. The shoulder roll didn’t stop that.
Fans keep saying Stevenson should fight like Hagler if he wants to be more popular. Stand his ground. Trade. Make it physical.
Why Fighting Like Hagler Isn’t Simple
That misses the point. Hagler fought that way because he could. He lived in the pocket. He absorbed shots to give them back. Stevenson’s entire style exists to avoid that kind of damage. Asking him to fight like Hagler isn’t a solution. It’s a risk.
Praising Marvin Hagler like a recent discovery, after dismissing Sugar Ray Robinson earlier this year, reinforces the sense that Stevenson’s relationship with boxing history is shallow and inconsistent. For a fighter who leans so heavily on technical identity and borrowed defensive systems, that gap matters. In boxing, ignorance of the past isn’t charming. It’s a credibility problem.
