Former boxing manager Charles Farrell admits to fixing fights:
Fight fixing is such an accepted part of the boxing business that there’s a standard way to do it. You call up or visit the gym of any trainer who represents “opponents,” and have the following exchange:
“I’ve got a middleweight who could use a little work.” [Read: His fight shouldn’t be more than a brisk sparring session.]
“I got a good kid. But he ain’t been in the gym much lately.” [He’s out of shape.]
“That’s OK. I’m not looking for my guy to go too long.” [It’s got to be a knockout win.]
“My kid can give him maybe three good rounds.”
And that’s it. Your fighter’s next bout will go into the record books as a third-round knockout victory.
He thinks it’s the humane thing to do:
Boxing managers have an obligation to minimize the amount of damage their fighters sustain. By the time any fighter gets a shot at a championship – usually his first opportunity to make real money – he will already have had very hard fights and been banged up in ways that will not yet be outwardly apparent to most people. His career is likely to be halfway over. If he becomes the champion, most of his title defenses during the next few years will be tough ones. If he fails in his title attempt, depending on the nature of his performance, he’ll either get more chances or be demoted to the rank of “name” opponent. … Once he’s slipped to the role of opponent, he’ll get beaten up repeatedly, his purses and his health diminishing with each successive loss. And at this point, the fighter will most likely be looking at a post-career future of neurological impairment. He may have four or five real earning years left to him. These are hard facts, but they’re almost unfailingly representative of what a “successful” fighter can expect.
The Dish 