Anthony Joshua has been called many things in his career. Chinny after Ruiz. Overrated after Usyk.
Robotic when he started running. He took it all on that granite chin and kept cashing cheques. Never once did anyone dare call him boring to his face and make it stick. Until Jake Paul did it a hundred times and watched the big man shrink every single time.Paul has said it on every mic, every stage, every Netflix promo. “AJ is corporate.” “AJ is dull.” “AJ puts people to sleep.” And every single time Joshua forces that tight little smile that never reaches the eyes. People used to think that smile meant he didn’t care. Now we know better. That smile is a man realising the room just got colder and he is the one feeling it.
Watch the clips back. London press conference, Paul screams “you’re the most boring heavyweight ever.” Joshua’s jaw locks, but the eyes drop to the floor for half a second. Miami workout, Paul again: “I’m bringing excitement, you bring spreadsheets.” Joshua grips the rope, knuckles white, but says nothing. No comeback. No stare-down that lasts. Just silence. The same silence he gave the world after the Ngannou fight when he knew the questions were coming.
The quiet panic of an Anthony Joshua who finally met someone he can’t intimidate
Joshua knows exactly what “boring” means in 2025. It means the kids on TikTok already scrolled past you. It means the new wave sees you as yesterday’s news in an expensive suit. For a man who once had ninety thousand at Wembley roaring his name, that truth lands harder than any left hook he ever ate.
He has heard it from proper fighters and laughed it off. Hearn called him safe, he grinned. Wilder called him protected, he shrugged. But hearing it from a twenty-eight-year-old who has knocked out more UFC has-beens than Joshua has beaten ranked heavyweights in five years? That one stuck. That one got inside the armour.
December 19th in Florida is not about respect anymore. It is about survival. Joshua has spent years being the good soldier, the polite champion, the brand ambassador. He shook hands after losses. He praised opponents who beat him twice. He played the perfect corporate role. Now the new king of combat sports is here and he is not playing.
That quiet panic has been building for six months. No screaming. No trash talk. Just forced smiles in press conferences and extra sessions with the sports psychologist. The man is thirty-five with a resume that looks thinner every time Paul reads it out loud. He is saving every ounce of that panic for one night.
When the bell rings on Netflix the fake smile disappears. The mask slips. And the same man who once ruled the division gets to face the truth that the loud kid from Cleveland might just be the last nail. Paul wanted excitement. Joshua is about to give it to him, whether he likes it or not. Only this time the excitement might be Paul walking through the smoke while Joshua looks for the exit.
Paul didn’t just call him boring. He made the whole world believe it. And on December 19th that might be the final punch Joshua never saw coming.
