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Boxing has long been its own worst enemy — and once again, the sport is undermining its own legitimacy at the precise moment it should be defending it.

WBO middleweight champion Zhanibek Alimkhanuly tested positive for the banned performance-enhancing drug meldonium ahead of a scheduled unification bout with WBA titleholder Erislandy Lara last year. The consequence? A one-year suspension — but no forfeiture of his title. Instead, the WBO ordered Denzel Bentley and Endry Saavedra to contest an interim belt, with Alimkhanuly slated to face the winner upon his return.

The WBO branded this arrangement a “structured suspension.” It’s a phrase meant to sound orderly, responsible — even principled. But much like the Patriot Act, whose reassuring name masked a sweeping expansion of surveillance authority, the label obscures the reality. Calling something “structured” does not make it so. It simply reframes the optics.

Stripped of branding, the facts are simple: a reigning world champion tested positive for a performance-enhancing drug and will retain his championship status.

Meldonium is not a minor substance. It alters cellular metabolism, shifting the body’s energy production from fatty acids to glucose. That distinction matters. Glucose requires less oxygen to produce energy than fat. In high-intensity settings — when oxygen is limited — this metabolic shift can delay fatigue and sustain performance.

In practical terms, meldonium may:

  • Reduce muscle fatigue
  • Enhance recovery between rounds and training sessions
  • Shorten overall recovery time
  • Allow an athlete to train harder, longer, and more frequently

And that advantage isn’t confined to fight night. It compounds over the course of training camp: extra rounds, extra sparring, extra conditioning, less exhaustion. By the time the opening bell rings, the edge is already embedded in preparation.

Why The WBO Chose Not To Strip Him Of His Title

The WBO treated this as a first-time anti-doping violation and determined that a one-year suspension — which it viewed as significant — was sufficient punishment without taking the belt. In its letter, the organization referenced the legal rights and guarantees afforded to a reigning champion, implying that stripping Alimkhanuly of the title is a legal and procedural step that must be justified and carried out in accordance with its governance processes.

According to WBO’s Strict Liability Policy, “a champion bears sole and exclusive responsibility for substances found in his system. The Rules do not condition disciplinary authority upon proof of intentional doping or competitive advantage. The mere confirmed presence of a prohibited substance is enough to invoke the Committee’s Authority.”

The issue in boxing is that there rarely appears to be a rigorous, transparent investigative process. If there is a path that creates fewer complications or less disruption, that often becomes the preferred route.

With certain substances — particularly anabolic steroids — contamination can occur because supplements are manufactured in facilities that also produce steroid-based products.

Meldonium presents a different scenario. It is:

  • Not commonly used in Western supplement manufacturing
  • A prescription medication in certain countries
  • Not a typical cross-contamination ingredient

There are very few documented cases of accidental supplement contamination involving meldonium compared to steroids or stimulants.

Statistically, that suggests a low probability of contamination if the athlete is based in North America or Western Europe. However, meldonium is commonly prescribed in parts of Eastern Europe, which provides at least some plausibility to the possibility of unintentional ingestion depending on geographic and medical context.

On one hand, it’s understandable how the WBO reached its conclusion. On the other hand, if the stated goal is fair play and a level playing field, this decision creates a dangerous precedent. “Contamination” has become the default defense. We’ve heard every version: ‘I didn’t know.’ ‘I took the wrong supplement.’ ‘I ate the wrong meat.’

If we’re going to have a “Strict Liability Policy,” it would help if the organization that authored it were actually strict. Right now, to many in the sport, it feels more like a lenient liability policy—and that perception is part of the problem.

It’s time to stop the nonsense.

Here’s the bottom line: people die in boxing every year.

This is not a non-contact sport. Boxing is a combat discipline where concussive force is the currency and irreversible damage is an ever-present risk. Fighters accept that danger under the assumption of competitive equity. Performance-enhancing drugs fracture that foundation. When one athlete’s preparation is pharmacologically enhanced, the imbalance is not merely unfair—it is inherently dangerous.

That is why semantic maneuvering is so corrosive. A “structured suspension” that preserves championship status sends a troubling message: sanctioning bodies prioritize commercial continuity over competitive integrity.

In a sport where lives hang in the balance, there should be no room for euphemism. No cosmetic rebranding. No legislative-style wordsmithing to make punitive measures appear procedural.

Zero tolerance should mean exactly that. But in boxing, the directive too often seems simpler: follow the money.

The four major sanctioning bodies — the WBC, WBO, WBA, and IBF — collect fees for their belts, whether for a world title or one of the many secondary designations that clutter the landscape. For those unfamiliar with boxing politics, the system can appear deliberately opaque. But the financial structure is straightforward: championships generate sanctioning fees, which in turn generate revenue.

With Alimkhanuly suspended, the WBO stood to lose income tied to an active champion. By ordering Bentley and Saavedra to fight for an interim title rather than stripping the belt outright, the organization preserves its ability to collect fees while maintaining the appearance of order. Another belt is created. Another fight is sanctioned. Revenue continues to flow.

And competitively? It accomplishes nothing. It does not strengthen accountability. It does not reinforce deterrence. Instead, it deepens cynicism — and that, sadly, has become boxing’s recurring theme.

Consider recent examples: Subriel Matias, former WBC junior welterweight champion, tested positive for the banned substance ostarine before his January fight against Dalton Smith. Yet he retained his title. Smith knocked him out anyway, but the optics were damaging.

Then there’s Alycia Baumgardner, the reigning undisputed junior lightweight world champion. She tested positive for two steroids — mesterolone and methenolone acetate metabolites — before her July 15, 2023, rematch against Christina Linardatou in Detroit, a fight she won by unanimous decision. Not only did she keep her victory, but the WBC, under Mauricio Sulaiman, also allowed her to retain her title. Their reasoning? As Sulaiman stated:

While there was sufficient evidence to support the validity of the anti-doping test that yielded the Adverse Finding, the defenses Ms. Baumgardner presented put into question whether the Adverse Finding resulted from an intentional act, or from non-intentional contact with Mesterolone. Based on the Adverse Finding in Ms. Baumgardner’s A Sample, and considering all factors both sides presented, the WBC arrived at the conclusion that there was no conclusive justification to reject the accuracy of the Adverse Finding based on the evidence and arguments the Response and supplemental information presented. However, that same evidence and arguments do not conclusively support Ms. Baumgardner’s intentional ingestion of Mesterolone for performance enhancement purposes. Accordingly, the WBC found Ms. Baumgardner not guilty of intentional ingestion or consumption of a banned substance for performance enhancement purposes, and confirmed her as reigning WBC Super Featherweight World Champion.”

Two androgenic steroids. Simultaneous ingestion. Deemed accidental — and the champion remains.

In most professions, a failed drug test can end a career. In boxing, you can win the fight, keep the belt, and move forward. It strains logic, transparency, and fairness.

This pattern helps explain why figures like Dana White and Zuffa Boxing have gained traction in the sport. While debates rage over amendments to the Muhammad Ali Boxing Reform Act — legislation that historically lacked meaningful enforcement — the larger issue remains visible. Sanctioning bodies operate with minimal external accountability.

Boxing could be defined by discipline, courage, and legitimacy. Instead, it too often functions as a business where rules bend, logic becomes negotiable, and fairness depends on interpretation.

Until accountability is restored, boxing will remain its own worst enemy.

We need to stop searching for loopholes. Protect fighters — but stop enabling a system that allows the same excuses to surface again and again.

This article first appeared on Fights Around The World and was syndicated with permission.

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