By Elliot Worsell
WHEN I was asked about nerves and his biggest fear before the fight, what surprised me most was the specificity of the answer. Instead of simply saying, “My fear was losing and I was nervous because I wanted to avoid that,” it seemed like George Groves had a much clearer nightmare in his head, never more so than before his 2011 fight against bitter rival James Degale. . That, of all his fights, was one Groves couldn’t afford to lose, not with so much history between them and so many insults exchanged. However, there are, of course, many ways to lose and Groves, mature enough to accept that defeat is an inevitability of his profession, only wanted to avoid one in particular: the first-round knockout.
He told me this years later, long after the fact, but the fear was still present in his voice. The first-round knockout, she said, was the most terrifying outcome she could imagine, both against Degale and in fights against Carl Froch, a man with whom she shared a similarly cold relationship. He used words like “humiliation” when he talked about it and explained that some losses are harder to swallow and understand than others, with the first round knockout being the hardest of all. In that scenario, presumably there has been no success, not even a bit of sweat. On the other hand, and with no reason for a rematch and with a training camp practically wasted, a boxer stopped in the first round is almost mute; His voice was taken away from them and his position was reduced in an instant, returning to the starting point.
The scariest thing of all is that it happens; it is common. Groves knew this, of course, and perhaps that’s why the fear that it would happen to him, however unlikely it seemed, never went away. It was there when he fought routine six-round boxers and it was there, and then some, when he fought men whom, at least in terms of competition, he claimed to hate.
George Groves stares at Carl Froch after his press conference in Manchester in 2013 (Getty Images)
That he avoided this fate can be considered one of his minor achievements. Because others, some even better than Groves, were not so lucky. Fighters like Floyd Patterson, for example, who was knocked out in one round not once but twice and by the same man: Sonny Liston. Then there was Michael Spinks, who, having dominated at light heavyweight, found himself outclassed by Mike Tyson in one round in 1988. Amir Khan too. Somehow he had to put it all together after a surprising first-round knockout loss to Breidis Prescott in 2008. Also, Julian Jackson, arguably one of the hardest punchers in boxing history. He suffered the indignity of being stopped within one round by Gerald McClellan in their 1994 rematch, just as John Ruiz, who later held a heavyweight belt, was knocked out in 19 seconds by David Tua in 1996.
Now imagine being knocked out within one round in your professional debut.
“It was level 9.95 psychological damage,” said Michael Bentt, the former WBO heavyweight champion stopped by Jerry Jones in 1989. “The only way to deal with it is to face it. Everyone is critical. Everyone has an opinion. I remember one time I went with my aunt to where she worked in Manhattan and she had a friend there who was a boxing fan. Every time she saw him she would say, ‘Hey, Mike, how’s she doing? When will you fight next time? However, after Jerry Jones knocked me out, I accompanied my aunt to his work and this guy looked at me with complete disdain. It was very painful for me. I couldn’t understand the lack of respect then, but now I do. He was judging me.
“There is a certain part of us as human beings that means that when someone does well we can support them and celebrate them, but we also feel resentful because we are not doing so well. So when I lost, it was this guy’s opportunity to say, ‘Yeah, turns out you don’t have it, like you said, my friend.’
“That is not taught in boxing. Nobody tells you that at some point you are going to lose. When that happens, the people who claim to love you will very quickly shit on you. That’s what will have to drive you if you can accept it. “It’s ugly but it’s part of it.”
Michael Bentt in 1993 (The Ring Magazine via Getty Images)
Last weekend in Las Vegas, two boxers, Ohara Davies and Fredrick Lawson, found out for themselves. Davies, full of confidence beforehand, was left cold by the rough hands of Ismael Barroso and unable to recover, while Lawson, injured but still protecting himself, was “rescued” by referee Tony Weeks when under fire from Vergil Ortiz. Aside from the results (both losses in the first round), shock was the only thing they had in common. Davies was shocked by the power of his opponent, as well as how quickly his own plans fell apart, while Lawson, still able to think in a way that Davies could not, was shocked only to see his fight with Ortiz called off prematurely. by a panicked official.
Now, because of this, it will be the job of both Davies and Lawson to put the defeat into perspective and remember that it can happen to anyone; A defeat in the first round can happen to anyone and, furthermore, a premature stop can happen to anyone. In fact, one could argue that awareness of this, on the part of boxers and fans alike, is what makes a fight such a must-see spectacle, and its widespread danger is precisely what separates boxing from other sports. . After all, in those sports a loss is just that: a loss. They all look, feel and taste the same. However, in boxing, type and timing are often the difference between a loss that feels like a victory and a loss that feels like the end of the world.
Ismael Barroso defeats Ohara Davies in the first round (Getty Images)
