Teofimo Lopez thinks Terence Crawford would beat Jaron “Boots” Ennis today because Crawford can get inside his head. That might help before the fight. It won’t stop Boots from throwing combinations once they’re in the ring.
“For Boots to fall into a trap like that psychologically from the wording, right? He’s not prepared in a ring to go in all the way like that physically,” Teofimo said to Ring Champs.
Lopez knows Crawford from their Top Rank days and respects how he studies opponents. I get that. I don’t see a social media trap solving this matchup.
Crawford has spent years switching stances to change the angle on an opponent. Boots switches comfortably himself. He can answer Crawford from either stance, rather than spending half a round figuring out where the next shot is coming from. If Crawford turns southpaw and looks for the check right hook, Boots has the speed to step inside and answer with a straight shot. Crawford’s switches still give him options, but they won’t confuse Ennis the way they have confused other fighters.
Holding is Crawford’s other escape route. I thought he lost to Israil Madrimov in 2024, and the clinches were part of what bothered me when I watched the fight again. Crawford would jab, pick a shot, then tie Madrimov up when he got close. Boots can work his arms free, turn Crawford, and punch as they separate. Even when the referee breaks them, making Crawford wrestle for space takes energy.
The numbers show the pace Boots brings. Crawford threw 433 punches against Madrimov and 534 against Canelo, averaging about 36 and 45 per round. Boots threw 730 against Karen Chukhadzhian in their rematch, nearly 61 per round. Those totals come from CompuBox. They don’t settle a hypothetical fight, but Crawford’s jab and clinch would have to interrupt a lot more punches than they did against Madrimov.
Teofimo may be projecting a little. He has had difficult nights against George Kambosos Jr. and Sandor Martin when he couldn’t impose his preferred rhythm. Perhaps that’s why Crawford outthinking Boots sounds so convincing to him. But Boots doesn’t have to win a contest of pre-fight psychology. He has to make Crawford defend the second, third, and fourth punch.
Crawford went up to super middleweight for Canelo. Coming back down to 154 after a year away would be a serious physical test for a fighter nearing forty. Boots’s body attack makes that test harder. If Crawford’s legs slow, there will be less room to step away after the jab and fewer chances to grab before Boots follows him inside.
Lopez also floated Floyd Mayweather as a spectacle that might bring Crawford out of retirement. Mayweather is 48, looks slow, and getting that deal done would be its own ordeal. I can’t take it seriously as Crawford’s next fight.
The business and matchmaking realities make Crawford vs. Ennis virtually impossible, and the stylistic reality makes it suicidal for Crawford at this stage of his life. Crawford is sitting comfortably in Omaha after walking away with life-changing money from the Canelo bout. He has spent his entire late career demanding colossal paydays while taking zero stylistic risks unless the financial reward was absurd.
After watching Crawford run, jab, and hug his way through twelve tedious rounds against Canelo, Turki Alalshikh has no reason to back up a Brink’s truck just to watch Crawford try to survive against Boots. Crawford knows Ennis does not bring the massive commercial audience of a Canelo or a Spence, meaning the purse would not match the danger. Crawford will not take a pay cut to get his head taken off by a young killer. Crawford’s obsession with being viewed as an all time great is the real reason this fight stays strictly on social media.
Terry Norris ending Sugar Ray Leonard’s career is the exact blueprint here. Norris had no interest in Leonard’s resume, his belts, or his historical standing; he just had faster hands, better legs, and cruel intentions. Boots brings that exact nightmare to Crawford. Madrimov exposed how fragile Crawford looks when an opponent walks through his jab and forces him to fight backwards.
Canelo was an old, battle-worn fighter with zero stamina who still managed to make Crawford look timid and desperate to survive the final rounds. Neither of those men threw combinations or pushed a high pace. Boots does not stand on the outside admiring Crawford’s footwork. Ennis averages over sixty punches a round, rips hooks to the body, and switches angles while letting his hands go.
If Crawford ever signed to fight Ennis, that carefully constructed mystique gets blown apart inside six rounds. Crawford knows it, which is why he plays mind games on Twitter instead of putting pen to paper. He will stay retired, count his money, and protect his record rather than get exposed by Boots.
The protected matchmaking is the fundamental foundation of the entire illusion. Age simply stripped away the physical cover Crawford needed to hide it. Crawford spent his entire career operating inside a promotional vacuum where the matchmaking kept him insulated from true high-octane threats.
At lightweight and junior welterweight, he beat guys like Ricky Burns, Thomas Dulorme, and Julius Indongo. Those were soft belt holders, not elite pound-for-pound monsters. When Crawford moved to welterweight, he feasted on damaged goods and fringe contenders: an ancient Amir Khan, a washed Kell Brook with fractured eye sockets, David Avanesyan, and Egidijus Kavaliauskas, who managed to drop Crawford. The centerpiece of Crawford’s entire reputation was Errol Spence Jr., a car-crash survivor who spent fifteen months out of the ring, starved himself down to 147 pounds, and looked like an empty husk walking to the ring. That was a ghost of Spence, not an elite fighter at the peak of his powers.
The moment Crawford stepped away from carefully matched opponents, the entire machine began stalling. Israil Madrimov had only ten professional bouts, yet he walked Crawford down, repeatedly landed overhand rights, and forced Crawford to spend the back half of the fight desperately wrapping him in clinches.
The judges gifted Crawford that decision, but the mask came off. Crawford could not dominate a raw junior middleweight who actually threw punches with bad intentions. Canelo was the ultimate manufactured cash-out. Canelo had seventy fights on his odometer, had zero knee cartilage left, threw one punch every forty seconds, and gasps for air after round four. Crawford cherry-picked an iconic name on the verge of athletic collapse while avoiding the real sharks circling at 168. He had no desire to share a ring with relentless pressure punchers like Christian Mbilli, Osleys Iglesias, or Lester Martinez.
Those guys bring physical volume, granite chins, and zero respect for reputations. They would have broken Crawford to pieces on the ropes. That brings the problem back to Jaron Boots Ennis. Boots represents everything Crawford was never matched against across forty fights: a switch-hitting predator in his athletic prime with blazing hand speed, legitimate one-punch power in either hand, and an engine that pumps out sixty-five punches a round. Crawford never possessed the sustained output, inside dog-fighting ability, or high-tempo durability to survive a fighter like Boots.
When Crawford had elite hand speed ten years ago, he could mask those deficiencies by potshotting and circling against stationary B-level fighters. Now that his legs are heavy and his reflex twitch is gone, there is nowhere left to hide. Crawford was never good enough to handle an offensive talent like Ennis, and age simply guarantees he would get stopped.
