Celebrity boxing reaches its biggest stage Saturday at Staples Center in Los Angeles as KSI and Logan Paul square off. It's a professional rematch of an amateur bout that drew hundreds of thousands of buys on YouTube pay-per-view last August, opening a lot of eyes to the overwhelming moneymaking potential such a fight could have.

Eddie Hearn, one of boxing's top promoters, has put the support of Matchroom Boxing behind the rematch. The fight checks a lot of favorable boxes, specifically a younger, nontraditional boxing audience. The card includes not only KSI (real name: Olajide William Olatunji) vs. Logan Paul, but two championship fights with Billy Joe Saunders and Devin Haney putting their titles on the line. That pairing could provide a massive windfall for both the boxers and the sport.

While Saturday's bout brings celebrity boxing to its biggest stage to date, it's far from the first instance of a promoter trying to cash in on celebrity status, instead of fight quality. So where did it all begin?

Before the celebrity aspect came into play, white-collar boxing events at Gleason's Gym in Brooklyn, New York -- one of boxing's most venerated training grounds -- began to spring up in the late 1980s. What started with informal clashes between bankers and other business professionals with minimal training turned into monthly events (which, over time, were occasionally challenged from a legal and safety perspective). The idea eventually spread to England through a collaboration between Gleason's owner Bruce Silverglade and Englishman Alan Lacey.

The format called for headgear, big gloves and a handful of short rounds. Lacey, who began training in the ring at 45 years old, fought on the first event in London. The events eventually picked up enough momentum in England that celebrities got into the mix, sometimes adding a charity element to the equation.

After a couple of high-profile celebrity bouts, including one in 2002 that featured comedian Ricky Gervais and was watched by 5.5 million people, U.K. boxing authorities stepped in and pressured the BBC to stop airing the bouts, deeming them "dangerous and irresponsible." Just a handful of celebrity fights have been approved in the U.K. over the last decade.

Around the same time, as reality TV was exploding in the United States, Fox network had a similar idea: a show simply called "Celebrity Boxing," which would become the most famous (and infamous) instance of the trend.

Danny Bonaduce vs. Donny Osmond

Before we dig into the two-episode Fox debacle from 2002, there's a piece of mostly forgotten history in the timeline: a 1994 bout featuring Danny Bonaduce, a child star who would repeatedly step back into the celebrity boxing world, and Donny Osmond.

In the 1970s, Bonaduce was one of the stars of the TV show "The Partridge Family," portraying the pre-teen middle son of a fictional traveling band. By the mid-'90s, one of Bonaduce's main gigs was as a late-night radio host, including a stretch on The Loop WLUP in Chicago. It was on that station that a fight with Osmond, the former teen idol and pop star, came to fruition thanks to some inspiration and goading from another WLUP host, Jonathon Brandmeier.

On Jan. 17, 1994, Bonaduce and Osmond, both in their mid-30s, entered Chicago's China Club for a three-round bout, complete with boxing nicknames; Osmond's "The Stormin' Mormon" moniker felt particularly fitting. Once the bell rang, whatever limited training the two had each undertaken in preparation for the fight produced minimal and ineffective results.

Bonaduce's headgear flew off multiple times (perhaps conveniently, in terms of getting unscheduled breaks), and clinches turned into miniature wrestling matches as Osmond and Bonaduce flailed at one another. Osmond even poked Bonaduce in the eye.

When the fight mercifully ended, Bonaduce was awarded a split-decision victory, to the chagrin of Osmond and confusion of most in attendance. A postfight verbal spat led Bonaduce to taunt Osmond about his sister, singer Marie Osmond. Bonaduce even suggested a fourth round without headgear or gloves. The fight presaged a lot of what would follow in the world of celebrity boxing: the level of "celebrities" participating, professional-level trash talk, dirty tactics and ugly, often unwatchable fights.

Fox's Celebrity Boxing

On March 13, 2002, "Celebrity Boxing" aired for the first time. The hour-long special featured a commentary team of Chris Rose and Boxing Hall of Famer Ray Mancini, ring announcer Michael Buffer and a national anthem sung by the Backstreet Boys' Howie Dorough. As in many big fights of the era, the fighters had advertisements for online casino Golden Palace temporarily tattooed on their bodies.

That's where the connections to real boxing start to trail off.

Bonaduce returned to the ring that night and squared off with another '70s TV icon, Barry Williams, who starred as Greg Brady on "The Brady Bunch." Bonaduce proceeded to batter Williams from pillar to post with five knockdowns over the course of two rounds until the fight was stopped by Williams' corner.

Todd Bridges, of "Diff'rent Strokes" fame, was similarly dominant against Rob "Vanilla Ice" Van Winkle, earning a couple of knockdowns on his way to a 30-27 decision -- this despite Van Winkle employing MMA legend Tank Abbott in his corner.

The main event of the evening pitted Tonya Harding, the former figure skater infamous for her role in the attack on rival Nancy Kerrigan ahead of the 1994 Olympic Winter Games, against Paula Jones, whose sexual harassment lawsuit against President Bill Clinton had embroiled her into Ken Starr's impeachment proceedings.

Jones was reportedly a late replacement for "The Long Island Lolita," Amy Fisher. Jones was no match for Harding and bowed out of the fight in the third round.

Quality of fighting aside, what was initially planned as a one-off special was an undeniable hit for Fox, drawing over 15 million viewers -- prompting a sequel, which aired two months later.

The increasingly hard-to-watch sideshow is best summed up by Bill Simmons' running diary of the show that ran on ESPN's Page 2 and by The Ringer's detailed look back at the dangerously one-sided fight between Ron "Horshack" Palillo ("Welcome Back, Kotter") and Dustin "Screech" Diamond ("Saved by the Bell"). Other fights featured on the card included "Who Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire" winner Darva Conger outlasting six-time Olympic medal-winning gymnast Olga Korbut, and 7-foot-7 former NBA star Manute Bol topping NFL giant William "Refrigerator" Perry in a mightily uneventful bout.

In the main event, pro wrestler Joanie "Chyna" Laurer lost an intergender bout to Joey Buttafuoco by majority decision -- closing a loop, in a strange way, given Buttafuoco's connection to Fisher, who fought on the first "Celebrity Boxing" card.

After that second, sloppy night of action, celebrity boxing dropped out of the mainstream. Fox never aired a third edition of the show, though no particular reason was given publicly. But it wasn't the end of celebrity boxing by any stretch.

As long as there were promoters looking to make a quick buck, and celebrities or athletes on the decline either financially or in popularity, there would be celebrity boxing, in some form.

Jose Canseco

In terms of his intersection between athlete and minor celebrity, no one was more well-suited for a transition into the celebrity boxing world than Jose Canseco. A 17-year Major League Baseball career included six All-Star Game appearances, two home run titles and the distinction of becoming the first "40-40" player in MLB history with 42 homers and 40 stolen bases in the 1988 season. But steroid accusations and a tell-all 2005 book called "Juiced" detailing baseball's PED problem made him a pariah in the game.

He turned to reality TV, appearing on Season 5 of "The Surreal Life," among other appearances. But by 2008, Canseco turned his attention to boxing. His first fight came against former NFL kick returner Vai Sikahema in May 2008 at a baseball stadium in Atlantic City, New Jersey. While Sikahema gave up seven inches to Canseco, he had a boxing history, having fought in the same Golden Gloves tournament as Sugar Ray Leonard in the 1970s. Sikahema earned a first-round knockout.

Canseco's next fight came in January 2009 against Bonaduce, whose seemingly never-ending time in the strange world of celebrity boxing continued in Aston, Pennsylvania, about 30 minutes southwest of Philadelphia. By this time Bonaduce, who grew up in the area, had a radio show in Philadelphia and managed to find a situation in which he'd be the clear fan favorite. The bout, fought in front of an announced crowd of 1,500 at a local ice rink, ended in a majority draw.

The fight, promoted by Damon Feldman (of failed Lenny Dykstra vs. "Bagel Boss Guy" fight "fame," eventually led Canseco into Feldman's Celebrity Boxing Federation, which further strained the label "celebrity." After a brief, unsuccessful foray into MMA, Canseco took on local fighter Todd Poulton in November 2009 and scored his first boxing win.

Canseco, at 46, lost a four-round charity bout to 60-year-old University of Arkansas at Little Rock athletic director Gary Hogan in July 2010.

Canseco teased fights against Dykstra, Michael Lohan and even an MMA bout with Shaquille O'Neal, but his sad, strange venture in the world of boxing will forever be known for the switcheroo he tried to pull in 2011.

Ahead of a scheduled bout in Florida that March, Jose Canseco tried to send his twin brother, former MLB player Ozzie Canseco, to fight in his place. The ruse was discovered because of the difference in Jose and Ozzie's tattoos. Feldman sued Canseco, seeking restitution, and the former MLB star's dubious career in boxing was over.

Celebrity boxing events promoted by Feldman continued to dip deeper and deeper into the world of reality show personalities along with tabloid standouts like Thomas Markle Jr., Meghan Markle's half-brother.

Until the first KSI-Logan Paul fight, the sideshow nature of celebrity boxing was slowly winding itself into oblivion. While the antics and promotion are similar, albeit on a dramatically larger scale, KSI-Logan Paul 2 brings several key elements that were sorely missing from the equation: a gigantic built-in audience, a proven commodity and the added element of professionalism. Removing the head gear and oversized gloves brings the added element of a higher likelihood of a knockout, raising the stakes even higher.

If this fight is anywhere near as successful as the first bout, don't be surprised to see more stars of the YouTube generation try to cash in. The promoters will be with them, right in step.

Editor's note: This story contains mature content.

On a September morning in Los Angeles, one of the internet's most popular entertainers is not in the mood to entertain. He's not here for the jokes and antics that have defined his YouTube career, Logan Paul says into a camera, his blond hair cut short, his fingers each adorned with a silver ring. This year, he insists, he's a boxer first.

But when he walks onto the stage near Staples Center, sunglasses on, biceps peeking out from the sleeves of his flamboyant silk shirt, it quickly becomes clear what kind of mood Paul is in. Minutes into the introduction, he starts flicking a cup of ice water at his opponent, British YouTuber Olajide "KSI" Olatunji, prompting security to get between them. When it's his turn to talk, Paul grabs the mic from the podium, stalks the stage with a hungry energy and rattles off a series of insults. "You look a little thick, and you smell like herpes" is one of the more memorable ones. He works the crowd, getting people to chant in full, youthful voice, anything from "U-S-A" to KSI "has no d---." KSI retorts, "Go ask your mum. Your mum's right there. Hey, how's my d---?" Paul goes over to his mom, Pam Stepnick, whose YouTube channel "Vlogmom" has 793,000 subscribers, and asks if KSI does in fact have one. "No!" she announces confidently.

It feels like a scene out of a drunken frat party, only hosted by sober adults who make a living from providing entertainment for the few hundred kids there (and hundreds of thousands more online). The youngest stand on a planter to see. The oldest look like they're in college. There's a solid KSI contingent, but most of them are Logan Paul fans. "He's inspiring," a teenage girl says about why she likes Paul. "I like the way he respects his fans."

These kids are the reason Logan Paul and KSI are here today, why these two internet stars with little boxing experience and 20 million YouTube subscribers each have been sanctioned by the California State Athletic Commission to stage a professional fight at Staples Center on Nov. 9. Because when they orchestrated their own amateur fight last year, so many of these kids tuned in that the adults couldn't help but figure out how to cash in. They might have had to Google their names, but they understood what Logan Paul and KSI could do for them. As mainstream entertainment yearns to reach young people on the internet and internet stars yearn to go mainstream, Logan Paul and KSI -- and their combined 40 million followers -- could be boxing's perfect match.

To be clear, neither of these guys is a professional boxer, and how they fell into boxing is one of the great flukes of the internet. KSI, the 26-year-old son of Nigerian immigrants to the U.K., started his career posting videos of his exploits on FIFA. One of Paul's earliest videos showed him prank-calling a restaurant under the name "Mike Buttski." Neither of them had ever boxed until 2018. But they both have viewership numbers that mainstream entertainment outlets dream of, and their fight last year dwarfed most professional bouts in pay-per-view buys.

An 18-year-old KSI fan says he used to like Paul but feels the 24-year-old "crossed a line with the Japanese forest thing." That "Japanese forest thing" was the first time many people outside the YouTube generation had heard of Logan Paul. In December 2017, Paul and his friends took a trip to the Aokigahara Forest outside Tokyo, known as a common suicide site, and filmed a video featuring a man hanging from a tree. In it, Paul, wearing a fuzzy "Toy Story" alien hat, says, deadpan to the camera, "What, you never stand next to a dead guy?" The incident was the most controversial of Paul's controversial career. The internet declared him canceled, and he lost fans, sponsorships and a lucrative partnership with Google. For a moment, it looked as if Logan Paul's career might be over, that this one stunt too far would turn his fans, not to mention commercial partners, against him for good.

Paul doesn't avoid talking about Tokyo. In fact, he brings it up frequently, as if he understands that the only way to overcome his mistake is to face it head-on. He credits it for bringing him to boxing. Boxing is "a shot at redemption," he tells the assembled media in L.A., "a second chance." But as Paul humps the air onstage, it seems like just one of those things he says that doesn't quite hold up. The thing about Logan Paul is that if you wait long enough -- or not very long at all -- he'll contradict himself. How does punching another guy in the face in front of millions of people redeem him? And even if boxing does equal redemption, what does redemption mean to Logan Paul?

Paul's six-bedroom, $6.6 million mansion sits deep in the hills in L.A. It's listed on Google Maps as Maverick Enterprises, Paul's brand, but the compound is ringed by tall wooden spikes, defenses to keep fans and trolls out. Inside the front door lies a body pillow adorned with Paul's blue-hoodied image, one of the many props that litter the place.

The Logan Paul of today is calmer than the rabble-rouser of yesterday. He has traded his silk shirt for black workout clothes, takes long pauses before answering questions and picks at the skin on his arms and legs while talking. Lying outstretched on an enormous tan beanbag in his recording studio, he rails about how underwhelmed he was by the news conference. He feels he wasn't his best self -- and blames it on KSI. "I thought he would give me more to work with," he says. "Since he didn't, I ended up going to a place of the old Logan Paul that I'm not sure I loved. Just a guy that yells and screams and says mean things."

Paul often talks about the old Logan and the new, as if his life can be split into Before Tokyo and After Tokyo. "Before, I would say or do anything. I would do whatever the f--- I wanted. That was the brand. F--- everyone, I got this," he says. "When Tokyo happened, it was like a slap in the face."

Long before Tokyo, before his meteoric rise and his cancellation, Paul was a 10-year-old in Ohio with a camera, a brother and an idea. He'd heard of a new website where anyone could post anything, so he and his younger brother, Jake, started making stunt videos and comedy skits inspired by "Jackass." They loved it, and a few people online seemed to love it too. The brothers amassed about 4,000 YouTube followers over eight years, Paul remembers. Not bad for two kids from a suburb of Cleveland, but they wanted more.

Then came Vine. The brothers' brand of bro-y physical comedy and hyper-masculine meme humor took off on the short-lived platform of looping six-second videos, and the money started coming in. Paul started doing ad campaigns and sponsored content with major companies such as PepsiCo and Dunkin' Donuts. He asked his dad, Greg, how much money he had in his own bank account, and when the answer was less than the 19-year-old had, Logan realized he could be an internet star full time. He dropped out of Ohio University and moved to L.A.

"I'm a maverick. I'm unlike any other creator on the internet," he says when asked what makes his channel so special. "I'm an athlete, I'm funny, I'm creative, I can tell a story, I'm likable. I can sing, I can act, my physical comedy is on point. I can do the splits. I don't know if there's a person on the internet who can fulfill the things I just said. Most important, I work hard as f---."

The most he has made off YouTube in a year is somewhere between $6 million and $7 million, which he says isn't a lot, at least not compared with his apparel line, Maverick by Logan Paul. He can't imagine a universe in which he would not be an internet creator, but if social media had not been created, he thinks he would be "inventing products that would revolutionize human technology." Instead, he's revolutionizing the internet, and he talks about his career as if he can already see his name gleaming in the record books. "I don't know if I've seen a rise as big as mine, or a fall as big as mine, in internet history," he says. "From any creator. And I don't know if it'll ever happen again."

As Paul talks, people come in and out of the room casually, one guy wearing just a towel. No one can confirm how many people actually live in the house, though Paul's full-time chef says she always has food ready for 10 to 20. The vibe is like a college dorm, where all the residents are employed in the business of Logan Paul.

In fall 2016, Paul returned to YouTube from Vine and started daily vlogging. For nearly 500 consecutive days, he lived about 80% of his life publicly on video. Some days the content created itself, like when he drove an electric blue bus to appear on "Jimmy Kimmel," where he told a story about losing 15% of a testicle because of a stunt. Other days he had to create something -- anything! -- to keep viewers hooked. "So you come up with the most random, outrageous s--- you can, break some plates, call it a day," he remembers.

His subscriber count soared. Forbes estimated his 2017 income to be $12.5 million, making him the fourth-highest-paid YouTube star that year. Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson partnered with him for a web series to promote "Baywatch." He and Jake "became a staple of a generation," Logan says, two kids who showed other kids that everyday life could be more than school and homework and chores. "We just made anything we wanted come true." Paul felt invincible. "I was becoming such a skewed person due to the internet and the type of content I was making, and it being encouraged every day over and over again by 7 million people watching my daily vlogs," he says.

That's how he got to Tokyo, driven to madness by the algorithm that made him a star. After Tokyo, as he read article after tweet after article about what he had done wrong, Paul stopped daily vlogging and took a month off -- the most time he has ever spent away from the internet -- and it gave him anxiety. Making videos was such an ingrained part of his identity and his life. He didn't know what to do with himself.

And so boxing saved him. KSI's challenge gave him an out when he was at his lowest, a place to direct his energy that wasn't the internet. "Boxing allowed me to breathe for a second, to focus on personal, physical, mental growth," he says. "Human growth, not subscriber growth." He says he changed, evolving like a Pokemon (his analogy) to become a better person.

It's a nice narrative, one that allows Paul to cast himself as yet another victim of the internet. It's such a nice narrative that Paul has released a documentary about his post-Tokyo rehabilitation that he tweeted would be "timeless & our proudest piece of work."

But he doesn't seem all that different. At least the guy making d--- jokes onstage the day before doesn't seem different. It's never really clear when he's talking if he's being serious or if he's trolling. One minute he's speaking candidly about how much he loves attention, the next he's bragging that he can be the biggest prizefighter in the world. "Let's be honest, it's just acting," Paul says. "I can be that guy, for sure. Or I can be this guy. Or I can be the guy in training camp who doesn't talk and is locked in. I can morph depending on what the event is."

He might not be vlogging every day anymore, but Paul never stops mythologizing and remythologizing his own story on his channel. He calls himself a storyteller, and his main subject is himself.

From a distance, the crowd of young men in black raincoats looks menacing. But approaching the old theater in East London on a rainy October evening, it becomes apparent that some are in school uniforms. Others carry their backpacks, which are thoroughly searched for possible projectiles and weapons. This second news conference had been announced less than a week before -- a last-minute addition due to popular demand -- and around 4,000 kids show up to fill the theater.

It's hard to pinpoint how this spectacle started, since YouTubers are constantly rewriting their narratives, spawning a subgroup of YouTubers who dissect and explain those narratives with their own memes and flourishes. According to KSI, it began with Joe Weller, a British YouTuber with about 5 million subscribers, who challenged KSI to a boxing match to settle a beef. (The subgroup of YouTubers disputes whether the beef was genuine and whether the fight was arranged.)

Genuine or not, KSI and Weller did box, in February 2018, which KSI won by technical knockout. In the ring afterward, he challenged Logan Paul. (KSI talks up his hatred for Paul, but he said he chose Paul because it was "a smart way" to tap into the American audience.) Paul accepted, and in August 2018, they went six rounds at a packed Manchester Arena. The quality of boxing was low, the undercard laughable, but the fight sold nearly a million pay-per-view buys on YouTube at $10 a pop.

All those eyeballs -- young, fee-paying eyeballs! -- were too much to ignore. Eddie Hearn, the smooth-talking Englishman who promotes bona fide boxing stars like Anthony Joshua, says he laughed when he heard about the first fight, which ended in a majority draw. "'These guys are going to look like idiots,' I said," he recalls. "A week later, they sold out Manchester Arena. They did a million pay-per-view buys. From there you start understanding how young people are digesting content and understanding that our sport is an aging sport. We have to bring a younger fan base into the sport."

Hearn agreed to stage a rematch, this time with no headguards, smaller gloves and professional fighters on the undercard. It's the perfect formula, if it works, and could herald a new business model. Boxing fans will still tune in, joined by those millions of young, fee-paying YouTube fans whom Hearn can then convert into long-term customers. "Part one, you bring them to the fight," he says. "Part two, show them what we love about boxing and we hope you enjoy it too." Hearn has been inundated with requests from YouTubers and mainstream celebrities alike to be on the undercard or to stage fights of their own. Jake Paul, who has 19.7 million YouTube subscribers of his own, is training with his brother for a potential fight later this year.

Many of the kids in the London theater say the beef between KSI and Logan Paul isn't real. "They're just doing it for the money and attention," one teen says. But no one wants to miss the hype. They might hate Paul, but they know everything about him. A surprising number of people in the crowd are boxing fans, full of admiration for Anthony Joshua and Tyson Fury. But they still can't wait to see this fight, even if the level is much lower. "It's amateur, yeah, but since you know the people, it's more interesting," says an 18-year-old who has been watching KSI on YouTube for four years.

Another 18-year-old with glasses and acne says he has recently started posting videos of himself playing FIFA on YouTube, hoping to follow in KSI's footsteps. He shrugs away the controversies of KSI's career, including accusations of sexual harassment in 2012. "He's my inspiration," he says. "He started from being a normal person to being famous."

As soon as the show begins, the fans let out a roar. Standing in the orchestra pit between them and the stage, it's impossible to hear anything over their "F--- you, Logan" chants. (Paul later said he could barely hear either.) People start ducking, and a few objects land on the stage: wadded napkins, coins, a Vaseline bottle. Something lands next to me with a thud, bouncing off a YouTuber nearby. The volume has a familiar cover: "A Doll's House," by Henrik Ibsen, weaponized.

"Come here."

For a minute, I'm not sure which of us Shannon Briggs, the two-time heavyweight champion training Logan Paul, is talking to on this sunny October morning. But then I realize he's staring at me. I step forward gingerly, and Briggs makes me hold on to the heavy bag so I can see how strong Paul has become. "Give me five hard punches!" he orders Paul.

"He's a specimen! He's built like a soldier!" Briggs proclaims proudly as the heavy bag rattles in my hands. I can't disagree.

Inside Paul's personal gym, the walls are a window into his mind. Directly above is an American flag mural; to the left is a list, painted to look like handwriting on the lined paper that kids use in school, with goals Paul wrote as a teen: "I will excel. I will be the best. I will be a champion." Reflected in the mirror are two more mantras: "Dent the universe" and "Unleash the beast."

Paul, shirtless and sweaty, doesn't acknowledge Briggs or me during our exchange. He hardly speaks at all during the workout, though he listens intently to the training staff. He looks exhausted but focused, his face devoid of the usual cheeky grin and meme-able expressions. He and Jake started the day with 20 minutes of jump-roping and a drill where they practiced punching with 3-pound weights. "Drills pay the bills!" Briggs yells. Paul has always been athletic -- he played football and wrestled in high school -- but this is the hardest he's ever trained. Having tired early in the first fight, he wants to increase his endurance.

Selling the fight is the easy part. Paul has been telling journalists that he'll knock out KSI in the first round and that he wants to fight Conor McGregor in the UFC next. But here in the gym, it becomes clear he's taking this seriously. He understands that whoever falls on Nov. 9 won't just lose one fight; the humiliation will live on the internet forever, the memes and GIFs haunting him in every comment section and Twitter feed.

Toward the end of the workout, Briggs turns off the music. "Ain't no music in the ring!" He seems pleased with Paul's left hook. "If you just do that, bro, this s---'s over." He tells Paul to stop, to rest and recuperate for sparring the next day. "When you get it right, you gotta let it go."

As Paul walks slowly toward the main house, his attention returns to the Logan Paul empire. One guy is hosing down tie-dyed hoodies in the yard for the Logan Paul merchandise line. Paul asks staff members if they've uploaded the latest episode of his podcast, "Impaulsive," and listens to the opening multiple times over lunch, checking for something in the first few lines of his audio: "Coach Shannon Briggs found out that last night I blew my batch, I threw away my precious seed ..." Paul might be focused on boxing, but the content machine doesn't stop.

Carved into the wall outside Logan Paul's gym is a giant Buddha. He doesn't want to be photographed with it, though, lest the Buddhists come after him online. "We've had to avoid it before," he explains to us. A photographer then suggests that Paul wear his gray fur coat. (He's depicted wearing it, and a crown, while riding his pet parrot, Maverick, in a mural in his house.) His publicist hesitates, then asks us to clarify that it's faux fur.

Just this week, Paul has been in the headlines for the following: making light of London's knife crisis before his trip there; saying that KSI was "on his fifth abortion. That's five babies dead"; and claiming he already has brain damage from boxing. He seems willing to say just about anything to promote the fight, so it's shocking to learn that he does carefully manage his image. But to a guy whose job is to attract attention, it's all a question of risk versus reward. "If I'm being honest, whenever I say or do something questionable, I know what I'm doing," he says later.

In between photo setups (with faux fur coat, without Buddha), Paul settles back into the giant beanbags in his studio and starts talking again about how Tokyo was a turning point and how he "used boxing to escape the hole I was in." He corrects himself: "That I put myself in" -- as if he can hear a self-help guru telling him to accept responsibility for his actions.

He's no longer the person chasing clicks and money. The old Logan, he says, didn't take criticism well. The old Logan would have broken a KSI fan's phone at the L.A. news conference because the kid got in his face. The old Logan would have been offended by his videographer, who suggested going into the second news conference that he act less like a child.

The trash-talking and the controversy don't seem to fit into this image of a new man, but Paul doesn't see the contradiction. "You saw the practice today. I'm taking this sport incredibly serious, so I'm going to do everything in my power to break him down," he says. "At the press conferences, I'm going to say everything I can to f--- him up. Right now I want to f---ing murder this kid. That's still an authentic version of me. I'm not doing that for views."

He insists that he's absolutely not driven by clicks anymore, that he only wants to make content that resonates with him. He plans to release a music album after the fight and jokes about having a kid (but without a wife). "Family channel coming soon!" he says with a laugh. But all of what we see onstage and on-screen is authentically him. "The character of Logan Paul is just an amplified version of Logan. It's still me. I have all of it in me. I'm not faking any of it."

And how would he describe himself? "I don't know," he says. "Just a dude disguised as a dude playing another dude."

If boxing is his redemption, how does punching KSI in the face redeem him? "That's a great question," he says, before pausing to think. Then he says he's no longer concerned about redemption. "I wanted to prove to Logan that I could redeem myself, forgive myself, stand tall with my chest out and move on. And I did that. I'm not so concerned about what the public thinks of me, or what they think the future of Logan Paul looks like."

The Logan Paul narrative has shifted again. He's no longer selling a redemption story but the story of a successful transition from YouTube to pro boxing. If the boxing match is the success he wants it to be, if it generates the blockbuster viewership numbers Hearn and DAZN are betting on, if he knocks KSI out as he plans, then maybe we'll stop talking about him as "that guy who did that thing in Tokyo" and start talking about him as "the guy who had that awesome fight." What Paul understands, what makes him the perfect celebrity of our age of short attention spans and news fatigue, is that as long as he keeps moving, keeps talking, keeps finding the next thing, people will keep watching. His sins will be forgotten, if not forgiven, just another entry in a long list of stunts. He's only as canceled as his latest headline.

That's what he's learned from all of the controversy, the biggest revelation before and after Tokyo. "If you don't give up, no one can stop you," he says. "You know how many times I've been canceled?"

The Golden State Warriors will be without D'Angelo Russell for Wednesday's game against the Houston Rockets, while Draymond Green has been ruled out for the entire three-game road trip, coach Steve Kerr told reporters Wednesday.

Russell will miss his third straight game since suffering a sprained right ankle Friday against the San Antonio Spurs. Kerr said Russell could return for Friday's game against the Minnesota Timberwolves.

Kerr said that Green, who suffered a torn ligament in his left index finger Friday, is not traveling with the team and was ruled out for the next three games -- against the Rockets, Timberwolves and Oklahoma City Thunder.

The Warriors, who at 2-5 are off to their worst start since the 2011-12 season, will continue to start Ky Bowman, Jordan Poole, Eric Paschall, Willie Cauley-Stein and Glenn Robinson III, as they have since Saturday.

For the Rockets, guard Eric Gordon has been ruled out with a hamstring injury.

Wednesday night's Houston Rockets-Golden State Warriors game (7:30 p.m. ET, ESPN) is a reminder of all the interesting storylines the NBA lost when Aron Baynes fell on Stephen Curry's left hand -- including what promised to be a season-long question of whether Curry could or would play more like Houston's supernova James Harden.

That storyline had layers. It would factor into Golden State's ability to hang in the playoff race until a potential Klay Thompson return. It would tell us something about Steve Kerr as a coach. And however it unfolded, it would drive a lot of commentary about Curry's place in NBA history.

Instead, Golden State's season is over. In the long run, that is probably good. The founding fathers of this dynasty -- Curry, Thompson, and Draymond Green -- could use a respite. The Warriors will keep the top-20-protected pick they owe the Brooklyn Nets via the bizarre Kevin Durant/D'Angelo Russell double sign-and-trade, and it could land toward the top of the draft.

They won't get a Tim Duncan there. The eerie parallels with the 1996-97 Spurs are faulty in that sense. There are no Tim Duncans. Duncan is one of the 10 greatest players of all time. He was a superstar the minute he ambled into the league wearing jorts. (Duncan finished fifth in MVP voting as a rookie. Even for a 21-year-old rookie -- old by today's standards -- that is a joke.)

But Golden State should have a chance to find someone who might contribute right away as a role player. Ironically, one of the justifications the Warriors offered for the Russell deal was that it presented their best and maybe only method of nabbing a player who was both young (Russell is 23) and ready today to help their veteran core.

They never imagined picking high enough in any of the next few drafts to find such a player, so they jumped at Russell. They sacrificed a lot to get him: Andre Iguodala, two draft picks, subjecting themselves to a cumbersome hard cap. It may prove a bad bet, but none of the alternatives available once Durant bolted -- including just letting Durant walk -- appeared to present any pathway to a player who might help Curry, Thompson, and Green as they age. Suddenly, this draft may provide one.

Count me among those who don't see Golden State's window as closed. Yes, the West is loaded. The Los Angeles teams look scary, and it's unclear whom the Warriors will throw at LeBron James, Kawhi Leonard, and Paul George with Iguodala elsewhere and Green aging.

But the Curry/Green/Thompson trio is really good. They blitzed opponents when Durant was injured until last season's Finals, and they might have won that series had Thompson remained healthy.

Thompson and Green are both 29, and Curry is 31; they should all have at least two more years of elite play left. Russell will either fit, or the Warriors will trade him for parts that do. Eric Paschall is good. The rest of their young players get this season to grow. The hard cap lifts. That pick is coming. They may not nab a player who can extend that championship window into the way-post-prime golden years of Curry, Thompson, and Green -- as Kawhi Leonard once did for Duncan -- but they might find someone good enough to prop it open a few more years.

In the meantime, we are robbed of seeing Curry try to recapture his pre-Durant magic. It was obvious early the Warriors would need that version of Curry, or perhaps something even more Harden-esque, to stay in the playoff race.

Some of the game's old heads, the caretakers of its history, were itching to demand that from Curry. You are a two-time MVP. Put the team on your back. LeBron and Michael would.

Curry doesn't look like LeBron and Michael. That is part of the challenge of contextualizing him in NBA history. He can't physically bend the game to his will. When we think of superstars "putting the team on their back," we think of post behemoths drawing double-teams down low or 6-foot-7 wings doing the same from the triple-threat position. This is essentially what Max Kellerman was talking about on my podcast when he argued Curry could only ascend to a certain historic place in a sport that "self-selects for height."

But Harden has warped the geometry of one-on-one play. He isolates from Curry's territory -- beyond the top of the arc -- which is why there was clamor for Curry to play like Harden.

Kerr has always resisted entrusting too much ballhandling to one player. Even in 2015-16, his unanimous MVP season, Curry ran only 32 pick-and-rolls per 100 possessions -- 70th in the league, per Second Spectrum. He attempted 160 step-back jumpers; Harden launched almost 700 last season, per Second Spectrum. Curry averaged only 4.3 isolation plays per 100 possessions in 2015-16, a minuscule number for a player of his stature; Harden approached 30 last season.

Curry is 6-3 and weighs about 185 pounds, and Kerr has long worried Curry could not handle the pounding of running every possession. "It's a lot harder when you are 185," Kerr told ESPN this week. "I'm not sure Steph is built for that."

Curry also isn't as fast as Harden going north-south, or as explosive around the rim. Even the 2016 version of Curry -- the clip below is from that season -- would pass out of drives where Harden might plow to the rim:

But Curry could absolutely veer more toward Harden's style. He consistently ranks among the league's most efficient isolation players. Defenders have to pressure him 35 feet from the rim, and Curry leverages that aggression against them:

Curry attempted his highest-ever share of shots from the restricted area in 2015-16, and his finishing -- the variety, the touch -- was next level:

So was his passing:

He could take more step-backs -- 2s and 3s -- against big men on switches, or just by juking his original defender. (He doesn't get that shot off as easily as Harden, and teams would try to smother it with bigger defenders.)

Kerr is opposed to playing that way. "I've never been a believer in isolating your best player while everyone stands around," he says. "Players need to touch the ball. They need to feel engaged. Putting Steph in a one-man offense takes away one of the things he does best -- which is draw attention away from the ball. Ask any coach: Steph flying off a screen on the weak side is terrifying."

He's right, of course. Curry draws two and three bodies, and 10 enemy eyeballs, by running around. That attention unlocks opportunities for everyone else. But the path from Curry attracting all that attention to the Warriors scoring often involves at least two teammates making smart passes and cuts.

Several teammates who excelled at those little things are gone. The genius of a simpler system -- like Houston's -- is that role players have very basic jobs: catch and shoot. Guys less capable of making snap reads don't have to make them.

Kerr would argue he does not have the shooters to play that kind of system. The Rockets didn't either. They turned marginal guys into workable shooters by using Harden to get them easy catch-and-shoot looks.

The Warriors could use Curry the same way. They would just have to space the floor differently: Curry up top, one good shooter (Russell for now) flanking him in the slot, two lesser shooters in the corners, and one big man in the dunker spot under the rim.

Help rotations become much more difficult when Green is in the corner -- as he is on this Curry drive from last season's conference semifinals:

Here's a variation from this season, with Green in the corner and the dunker spot empty because Green is playing center:

Help converges earlier when Green is in his usual spots along the perimeter, or cutters zip around the paint:

Green doesn't want to chill in the corner. It's a waste of his playmaking. Relegate him to PJ Tucker duty, and he might not defend with the same ferocity.

"Draymond's playmaking is important for us," Kerr says. "When he's engaged on offense, his defense gets better. Standing him in the corner would be counterproductive."

But the old way wasn't working. Kerr knew. "Even if Steph stayed healthy, we were going to experiment with our offense," he says. "We were already doing that."

Golden State could use more pick-and-roll to keep Green active while Harden-izing Curry; that is probably more realistic than Curry isolating at Harden's rate anyway. Play Green at center, and use him as Curry's screener in spread pick-and-rolls on repeat. Stick a lob-catching center -- Willie Cauley-Stein -- in the dunker spot as Green screens for Curry, and have Green hit him for alley-oops. We've seen that hundreds of times.

There is a huge stylistic middle ground between Curry's last three seasons and Harden's. Curry's MVP campaigns fall into it. It was time to tap back into that -- and perhaps go even further.

Maybe Curry would wear down under that sort of ballhandling volume. He's almost 32, with tons of mileage. Maybe Durant joining Golden State used up Curry's remaining potential years as a Harden-level fulcrum, and inadvertently complicated Curry's legacy in the process.

We won't see for at least three months, and by then Golden State will have no incentive to overtax Curry. But if the Warriors had sputtered to something like 35 wins, the skeptics would have crowed. They were already starting to as Golden State ate blowout losses.

But this team is so thin and inexperienced. According to research our Kevin Pelton provided, the Warriors entered the season carrying only five players with at least five career wins above replacement level. Since 1995, such teams -- and there are more than a hundred -- have won an average of 35 games and made the playoffs only 31% of the time. One of those five players -- Thompson -- is out. Another -- Cauley-Stein -- did not play until the game when Curry broke his hand.

LeBron's 2008-09 and 2009-10 teams in Cleveland finished those seasons with eight and 10 5-WARP players, respectively. San Antonio's thinnest teams around Duncan -- the 2000-02 iterations that rode out the Lakers' three-peat before Tony Parker and Manu Ginobili arrived as stars -- featured eight, seven and six such players, though a few were aging out of the league.

Of course, those San Antonio and Cleveland teams all won at least 50 games. A few of those five-by-five WARP teams featuring some of Curry's historic peers made the playoffs: the 1995-96 Jazz with John Stockton and Karl Malone, and the 2009-10 Suns with Steve Nash and Amar'e Stoudemire. Golden State appeared headed for a much uglier fate, though with an even shallower roster. The best comparison might be Minnesota's 2005-06 and 2006-07 teams with Kevin Garnett as Curry. Those teams featured five and six 5-WARP players, respectively, and won 33 and then 32 games.

No player wins a title alone. Only a handful of players in league history could single-handedly lift a mediocre or worse roster toward 50 wins. It's quite possible Curry is not one of those players -- that his size and physical limitations mitigate against it. It's also possible Harden is "better" and more equipped than Curry to raise the floor of a middling team.

But Curry is probably better at raising the ceiling of a good team, and that might have more value in building toward a championship. His shooting and skill moving off the ball amplify other great players the way Harden amplifies role players. That in and of itself is a skill -- a talent. Thompson and Green are not the stars they are without Curry. (The same people who were ready to make this Warriors season a referendum on Curry should have done the same with Green.)

Before Durant, those three came together to make a team something more than the sum of its parts. They won 67 and 73 games, and one title. Curry propelled that success with two seasons that broke everything we knew about basketball. All the evidence -- plus/minus numbers especially -- suggests Curry was the undisputed driver of those teams.

We are still struggling to place those seasons, and Curry, in league history. Players his size don't really enter the "top 10 all time" discussion. Curry is already one of the two or three most decorated 6-3-and-under players ever, and probably has the brightest prime among them. The only other candidates are Jerry West, Allen Iverson, Bob Cousy, Russell Westbrook, Isiah Thomas, Stockton, Chris Paul, and Nash.

That entire group (not including Curry) has five combined MVPs. Nash has two, and played like something of a proto-Curry. Curry surpassed him. Stockton never averaged more than 17.2 points or finished higher than seventh in MVP voting. Thomas never finished higher than fifth. West never won MVP, though he finished second four times and made first-team All-NBA 10 times. (Curry has made first-team only three times.)

Maybe a player Curry's size just can't crack the very highest echelon of individual greatness in basketball. There are smart people within the league who argue that it's impossible for any sub-6-5 below-average defender -- and Curry is that, despite smarts and effort -- to bust into the top-10-of-all-time discussion. Curry is still building counting stats, and he famously has not won a Finals MVP in five trips. Bill Simmons recently slotted Curry at No. 24 all-time.

But Curry's pre-Durant peak was as transcendent as anything the sport has ever seen. His shooting translates to team-level greatness in ways we are still understanding. A few more seasons like that, and Curry would elevate himself toward the top-10 discussion. This season could have been one. One way or another, it would have taught us something about Curry.

The 3000m steeplechase and discus will also not feature in the Diamond League Final next year

The 200m, 3000m steeplechase, triple jump and discus for both men and women are the eight events which will be cut from the IAAF Diamond League in 2020.

Earlier this year it was confirmed that 24 disciplines – 12 male and 12 female events – would form the core of all meetings in the series, which will incorporate 14 meets and a final, from next year.

According to research carried out by the Diamond League, the discus, triple jump and 3000m steeplechase sit towards the bottom of the list when it comes to most popular events, with the most popular disciplines being the 100m, long jump and high jump, followed by the the pole vault, 200m and 400m.

The decision to cut the 200m comes as the IAAF says Diamond League organisers felt it “would be too congested alongside the 100m, particularly in an Olympic Games’ year”.

Popularity of athletes, head-to-head competitions and excitement of the individual competition were cited as reasons for the choice of the most popular events in the Diamond League survey.

“Representative online research carried out in China, France, South Africa and the USA; post-event surveys in Belgium, Great Britain and Switzerland and click-throughs on Diamond League social media videos during 2019 helped guide the Diamond League general assembly, made up of all meeting directors, to decide which disciplines will be part of 2020 season,” said the IAAF.

The IAAF adds that following a review of the schedule for the 90-minute broadcast window of the Diamond League, the 200m and the 3000m steeplechase will be included in 10 meetings (five male and five female) in the 2020 Diamond League season, including Oslo, Rome and Doha, while two meetings will feature the discus and triple jump (one female and one male). However, none of those four disciplines will feature in next year’s Diamond League Final, to be held in Zurich.

“Our objective is to create a faster-paced, more exciting global league that will be the showcase for our sport. A league that broadcasters want to show and fans want to watch,” said IAAF president and Diamond League chairman, Sebastian Coe.

“However, we understand the disappointment of those athletes in the disciplines not part of the 2020 Diamond League season.”

The controversial decision means fans will only get limited opportunities at the Diamond League to see clashes such as Christian Taylor versus Will Claye or Yulimar Rojas against Caterine Ibarguen in the triple jump. Or stars such as discus giant Daniel Stahl, 200m man Noah Lyles and steeplechaser Conseslus Kipruto.

This latest news follows the IAAF’s earlier decision to have the 3000m as the longest endurance race on the Diamond League programme.

Coe continued: “We want to thank the 10 Diamond League meetings which have found a way to include the 200m or the 3000m steeplechase (male and female) during the 2020 season and the four meetings hosting a discus throw competition or a triple jump competition.

“The Continental Tour, an enhanced global series of one-day meetings supporting the Diamond League, will integrate these eight disciplines to ensure athletes get opportunities to compete extensively and earn prize money. We will also work more closely with the athletes in these eight disciplines to help promote them and their events.”

Full lists of events in each Diamond League meeting are set to be released shortly.

The IAAF added that all meetings have the opportunity to feature additional disciplines outside of the 90-minute international broadcast window to cater for their domestic fans, which will be carried by domestic broadcasters.

DIAMOND LEAGUE DISCIPLINES FOR 2020 (12 MALE AND 12 FEMALE)

• 100m
• 100m/110m hurdles
• 400m
• 400m hurdles
• 800m
• 1500m
• 3000m
• Long jump
• High Jump
• Pole vault
• Javelin
• Shot put

England centre Manu Tuilagi will not be leaving Leicester Tigers "anytime soon" despite cross-code interest from big-spending Toronto Wolfpack, according to his club boss Geordan Murphy.

Tuilagi, 28, is wanted by the ambitious Super League newcomers, who are also set to sign Sonny Bill Williams.

"If the Wolfpack want Manu then I am sure they can have a conversation with us," Murphy told BBC Leicester Sport.

"But we don't want Manu leaving. He is world class and wants to be at Tigers."

Tuilagi, a key man in England's run to the World Cup final, rejected a lucrative offer from French side Racing 92 earlier this year to extend his stay with Leicester.

Murphy is confident Tuilagi's links to the club and area mean he will not be tempted to change his mind and switch codes to move to the Canadian side, who are reportedly closing in on dual-code legend Williams, 34.

"Manu was offered more money to leave last year when the speculation was around," Murphy added.

"He has a family here. He is settled here and he feels like a Leicester player so I don't think he will going anywhere, anytime soon."

South Africa's World Cup-winning prop Tendai Mtawarira has announced his retirement from international rugby.

The 34-year-old, nicknamed "Beast", is South Africa's third most capped player in history, having played 117 Tests since his debut in 2008.

In the World Cup final Mtawarira helped the Boks dominate England in the scrum.

"I have many memories to cherish forever, but winning the Rugby World Cup is the perfect ending and cherry on top," he said.

Saturday's 32-12 victory over England in the final in Yokohama proved to be his last international.

"The Beast is someone who never complained, always put in the hard work and simply got on with his job in his typically unassuming way," said Mark Alexander, president of South Africa Rugby.

Mtawarira has played for the Durban-based Sharks in Super Rugby since 2007.

FONDA, N.Y. – After a season of resurgence at Fonda Speedway, it’s time to celebrate.

The top performers from the Fonda season will be honored on Saturday, Dec. 7 at the Fonda Speedway Awards Banquet hosted at Treviso by Mallozzi’s in Albany, N.Y.

This will mark the first year-end celebration under the BD Motorsports Media LLC promotional banner at the hallowed half-mile track.

The top-10 drivers in the Sunoco Modified, Swagger Factory Apparel Crate 602 Sportsman and Algonkin Motel Pro Stock divisions will be recognized, in addition to the top-five finishers in the Montgomery County Office for Aging Limited Sportsman, Trackside Body Works Street Stocks and Four Cylinders.

Other special awards will be distributed during the evening as well.

Rocky Warner of Gloversville, N.Y., drove the Jake Spraker-owned No. 1J to the Sunoco Modified divisional championship for the first time in his career.

Warner was trailed by Bobby Varin, Danny Varin, Stewart Friesen, Dave Constantino, David Schilling, Craig Hanson, Brian Gleason, Josh Hohenforst and Michael Maresca.

Niskayuna, N.Y., native Tim Hartman Jr. called Fonda Speedway home for 2019 very successfully, taking the Swagger Factory Apparel Crate 602 Sportsman title.

Hartman beat out Adam McAuliffe, Chad Edwards, Brian Calabrese, Mark Mortensen, Cody Clark, JaMike Sowle, Tony Farone, Andrew Buff and Brian Borst for the Sportsman crown.

‘Cousin Luke’ Horning of Gloversville, N.Y., put together a breakout season in the Algonkin Motel Pro Stock division and took the championship with Nick Stone, Josh Coonradt, Kenny Gates, Chuck Dumblewski, Justin Knight, Jason Morrison, Ivan Joslin, Bill Knapp and Randy Cosselman in tow.

The Montgomery County Office for Aging Limited Sportsman high point man was E.J. McAuliffe of Broadalbin, N.Y., who defeated Rich Christman, Brett Mortensen, John Young and a tie between Steve Wagoner and Alan Hanson.

Jason Samrov was the Trackside Body Works Street Stock champion over Michael Arnold, Cliff Haslun, Dave Horning Sr. and Stephen Young.

Ken Hollenbeck continued his longstanding dominance of the Fonda Four Cylinder Cruiser ranks, taking top honors with Cole Lawton, John Napoli, T.J. Marlitt and Wayne Russell completing the front five.

Doors open for the Fonda Speedway Awards Banquet at 6 p.m. with cocktail hour. Tickets include a buffet dinner, featuring sliced sirloin and chicken parmesan, sides, dessert, soda, coffee and tea. A cash bar will be available.

Tickets are on sale for $39 each and should be reserved prior to Nov. 15.

BROWNSBURG, Ind. – Bob Vandergriff Racing has announced that D-A Lubricant Company will not be returning to sponsor the Jordan Vandergriff-driven Top Fuel dragster for 2020.

“This was very unexpected. To find this out at the beginning of November puts us behind the eight-ball in trying to find a partner for Jordan in 2020,” said team owner Bob Vandergriff. “We will continue to field a car for Shawn Reed and Josh Hart while we actively pursue sponsorship for Jordan.”

Jordan Vandergriff had a successful rookie season driving Top Fuel. Although he has only competed at 10 races, he reached the semifinals three times and was close to getting his first win a few weeks ago when he made the finals of the NHRA Fall Nationals in Dallas.

Jordan consistently tops the NHRA Power Rankings with one of the best reaction-time averages in his class. He is also a candidate for the Auto Club Road to the Future Award.

“Jordan will still be driving at the NHRA Finals in Pomona,” added Bob Vandergriff. “Now that he is available for sponsorship, we will be talking to companies interested in coming on board as partners.”