If you were to see a Cuban fighter on a bout sheet but knew nothing else about them other than their nationality, you would likely come to certain conclusions about how they were going to fight. The Cuban school of boxing has become known for its rubric preaching an ideology of stylish boxing predicated on defense, movement and precise counterpunching. It’s one that has produced the most prolific and dominant group of amateurs ever assembled, and in more recent years, a series of polarizing champions and high-level fighters.

When people today think of Cuban boxing, they tend to think of Guillermo Rigondeaux and Erislandy Lara, the two defectors who spent the most time on North American airwaves over the last 20 years or so. Although Rigondeaux and Lara produced their fair share of knockouts during those appearances, they mostly became known for their low output, methodical undressings of various opponents. In terms of defensive metrics, they were and are brilliant, in terms of visceral entertainment and violence, they often fell short of audience’s expectations.

Of course, countries and the styles their boxers operate with are not monolithic, whether those generalizations are positive or negative. “Mexican style” tends to refer to a hyper-aggressive approach, but for every Julio Cesar Chavez there is a Miguel Vazquez. “Soviet style” tends to refer to a technically adherent upright style, but for every Dmitry Bivol there is a Ruslan Provodnikov. In the same way, Rigondeaux's and Lara’s contemporaries include Yuriorkis Gamboa and Yuniel Dorticos, two fighters who could never be accused of avoiding exchanges.

The reputation surrounding the Cuban style was done no favors earlier this month when William Scull engaged in a bout against Canelo Alvarez that produced the fewest thrown and landed punches ever recorded by CompuBox in a 12-round fight. Scull spent the majority of the fight traversing the perimeter of the ring, feinting and landing the occasional pot shot before retreating back out of danger. Unless you are a person incredibly excited by footwork and the most granular minutiae of boxing technique, the bout was indisputably bad viewing. This led to allegations that Scull was simply there to survive and unconcerned with the outcome so long as he sustained as little damage as possible.

There are likely elements of truth in that assessment, but only insofar as that approach — with the exception of seeking mere survival — is very much the classical Cuban amateur boxing strategy, a sport rather than a fight. If you were to look at the median Cuban amateur over the last few decades and stretched their three-round approach out to accommodate the length of a championship pro bout, it would look a lot like what Scull did. In other words, Scull did precisely what he intended to do in the fight, and thought he did so well enough to win the fight, as he revealed in statements and interviews following it.

“I felt very comfortable controlling the distance, as Canelo couldn’t cut off the ring. I landed the cleaner, more effective shots throughout the fight. Although I threw twice as many punches as Canelo and some experts even had me ahead on the cards, I now realize I should have made it look more decisive,” said Scull in a statement, before adding in an interview with Fight Hub TV, “the Cuban principle is like that: hit and don’t let them hit you. Everyone knows our school of thought.”

Provided we take Scull at his word, his quotes are revelatory when it comes to the deficiencies in the widely understood Cuban approach when it comes to the pro game. While it might win medals and be incredibly effective, it might not be particularly palatable to fans or professional judges.

As time has gone on however, Scull has become closer to the exception rather than the rule when it comes to Cuban professional boxers. Just as the Cuban approach was first conceptualized by Dr. Alcides Sagarra in blending the Soviet and American styles of boxing, the 2025 version of what Cuban boxing is includes reference points from all over the globe. As time has passed and, even before the embargo on professionalism was lifted once again in Cuba, coaches and fighters became exposed to more and more styles internationally through competition but also pilgrimage from fighters to Cuba looking to learn from them, the styles of Cuban fighters have become as diverse as they were in the 1950s when they first appeared on our television sets.

In recent times, fighters such as Christopher Guerrero have spent periods of time in Cuba during their camps, and fighters such as William Zepeda have even hosted members of the Cuban national team at their camp, as “Camaron” did prior to his rematch against Tevin Farmer. It goes without saying that both sides of that student exchange, if you will, left those camps with something new in their repertoire.

The most visible Cuban fighters at the sport’s elite levels, namely David Morrell, Andy Cruz and Robeisy Ramirez no doubt have hallmarks of their Cuban schooling, but theirs is a style with origins that wouldn’t be immediately apparent to the naked eye void of context, a sign of boxing’s modern mosaic of learning.

In the coming weeks, we’ll get a look at two of the hardest hitting young fighters in the sport, 27-year old Cubans Osleys Iglegias and Yoenli Hernandez. Hernandez will face Kyrone Davis on the Caleb Plant-Jose Armando Resendiz undercard, while Iglesias is expected to appear soon in either an interim world title fight or a title eliminator. There will be the reflex amongst those not familiar with Iglesias and Hernandez to simply look at the flag on the graphic next to their name on the screen, and pre-emptively groan, thinking they’re in for a Scull-like slog. But nothing is likely to be further from what will unfold. If you catch someone thinking that way, forward them Hernandez’s demolition job of Angel Ruiz from February, or Iglesias’ bone-chilling knockout win over Petro Ivanov from November—but do so, particularly with the latter, with a strong trigger warning.

With an updated textbook, the new generation of Cuban fighters aren’t just for the technique nerds, they’re for the casuals too, students of both psychology and drama, of style and of substance.