“That was a boxing lesson”
BoMac McIntyre answered directly when asked what he saw.
“A masterpiece, man. Shakur just looked so smooth, calm and relaxed. That was beautiful. That was the one boxing lesson that you future guys, young guys in the amateurs, just turning pro, watch that. That was beautiful.”
That line landed because it fit the fight. Stevenson settled early, set his jab, and never let Lopez into the fight. There was no urgency to impress. Just pure control. McIntyre was pointing out discipline.
The corner audio stuck with him too.
“You heard his father say in the corner, ‘What happened to your fast hands?’ That s**t didn’t work.”
That was the fight in one sentence. Lopez’s speed never showed because Stevenson never allowed clean entries. Fast hands mean little when your feet are always late.
No adjustments available
When asked if Lopez could have changed anything, McIntyre shut the door.
“No, I don’t think whatever he would have brought to the table would’ve worked. Shakur’s just got a great boxing mind. That’s just it.”
That is trainer language. It means the opponent removed options. Lopez tried waiting. He tried pressing. He tried exploding in spots, most notably the eighth. None of it held. Stevenson reset him immediately and finished the round strong, then closed the fight without drama.
McIntyre’s final comment was half joke, half warning.
“I don’t know, man. You probably wanna stay away from that kid.”
What that really means going forward
Stevenson now controls the junior welterweight picture in practical terms. Alphabet rules exist, but fighters who dominate like this gain flexibility. Networks follow them. Sanctioning bodies adjust around them. Mandatory talk comes later, if at all.
For Lopez, the road narrows. A loss this wide pushes him out of immediate title business and into rebuild territory.
McIntyre’s comments strip the night down to its core.
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