THERE is an intensity and a spark to Archie Sharp during our interview.
The lightweight contender, once tethered to the punishing super-featherweight limit, is just days away from a career-defining clash with Maxi Hughes on May 23, in Doncaster. It’s now or never for Sharp.
Hughes, the WBA’s number-four-ranked lightweight, is a wily veteran who’s turned setbacks into stepping stones, but Sharp, now 30, is unfazed. After a stinging loss to Ryan Garner in 2024 and a chaotic spell juggling a flooring business with his boxing ambitions, Sharp has stripped his life back to the essentials. Laser-focused at 135 pounds, he’s ready to show everyone Archie Sharp 2.0.
For years, the Londoner battled not just opponents but the scales at super-featherweight, where the 126-pound limit became an unforgiving foe. The constant grind of cutting weight sapped his energy, dulled his unorthodox flair, and left him a shadow of the fighter he could be. Reflecting on those gruelling days, he’s still baffled by how he endured it. “It just drained me,” he says. “I could get to the weight, but performing? That was the problem. My style – moving on my feet, throwing shots from weird angles – needs a full tank. At 130, I was running on fumes.”
The breaking point came in July 2024 against Ryan Garner. Sharp, then 25-0, faded fast, his body betraying him under the weight-cut strain. The loss was a bitter pill, made worse by the distractions he’d let creep into his life. At the time, Sharp was pouring his energy into a fledgling flooring business, a venture that pulled him away from the gym and into a whirlwind of contracts and site visits. “I was invoicing on weigh-in day,” he recalls. “My manager was like, ‘What are you doing?’ Looking back, it was crazy.”
That flooring company, launched just before the Garner fight, was both a positive and a negative. Contracts came quickly, and Sharp, ever the hustler, threw himself into it, balancing gym sessions with hands-on work. “I was going from the gym to jobs, trying to keep it all afloat,” he explains. “It was too much.” The defeat to Garner was a harsh lesson, but it reignited his passion. Sharp stepped back from the business, handing off daily operations to focus solely on boxing. “Losing gave me that fire in my belly again,” he says. “Boxing’s my priority now. Gym, recover, gym, recover. That’s it.”
Moving to lightweight has been transformative. At 135 pounds, Sharp feels like a new man, his body no longer at war with itself. The days of starvation diets and punishing weight cuts are behind him, replaced by proper nutrition and recovery. “I question myself – how did I even compete at 130?” he says. “That extra five, six pounds makes all the difference. I’m eating properly, recovering properly. I feel like a different fighter.”
Sharp’s preparation for Hughes is a return to his roots, a deliberate step away from the modern boxing world’s obsession with science and metrics. He’s reunited with his original corner team: Richard Sawyer, who’s guided him since he was seven, and John Colwin, a coach from his early days. It’s nostalgic but it’s more than sentiment – it’s a strategic choice to strip things back to what works. “It’s old school,” Sharp says. “Blood, sweat, and tears. None of this scientific stuff that’s too much for me. I like hard training, and it’s working.”
The comfort of working with lifelong mentors has steadied Sharp, giving him a sense of clarity amid the high stakes. “It’s exactly what I needed. Boxing’s got too complicated these days. I just want to get in there and fight.”
Maxi Hughes, (28-7-2, 6 KOs), is a fighter who thrives on proving doubters wrong. The losses to George Kambosos Jr and William Zepeda didn’t break him; it fuelled his rise to a WBA top-five ranking. Sharp sees the fight as a golden opportunity, a chance to catapult himself into the lightweight mix. “This is a massive fight,” he says. “I didn’t hesitate to take it. Beat Maxi, and I’m in the mix for the big names. It’s a springboard.”
Hughes – elusive and tactically sound – presents a puzzle, but Sharp is unfazed. He’s studied his opponent’s tendency to dart in and out, frustrating foes with movement. “He’s saying he’ll stop me,” Sharp says. “I haven’t seen him stop many people. He’s all talk, maybe. But I’ve prepared for the best Maxi Hughes. I’m in the best shape of my life.” Sharp’s confidence is rooted in preparation, not bravado. He’s not just fighting Hughes; he’s fighting for respect and to prove he belongs where Hughes is now.
Sharp knows the odds are stacked against him. The boxing world has largely written him off, pegging the Yorkshireman as the favourite. But Sharp thrives in the underdog role, his resolve hardened by a career of setbacks and slights. “Everyone’s got me written off,” he says defiantly. “Ninety-five percent of people think Maxi’s got this. That suits me fine. I’ll go under the radar, upset the apple cart, and come home with the belts.”
Sharp’s decade-long pro career, which began in July 2015, has been a test of resilience. Once the WBO’s number-one super-featherweight contender, he was derailed by COVID, injuries, and the brutal weight cuts at 130 pounds. “I’ve had nothing handed to me,” he says. “I’ve had to build character the hard way.” The Garner loss, though a low point, was a turning point. “If I’d beaten him, I’d have stayed at 130, chasing the European title, and probably got hurt,” he admits. “Everything happens for a reason. That loss pushed me to lightweight, and I’m better for it.”
At 30, Sharp believes he’s entering his prime. “A 30-year-old Archie Sharp beats a 25-year-old Archie Sharp,” he says with conviction. “I’m stronger, smarter, more mature.” With four kids at home, his motivation runs deeper than titles. “It’s busy. But they keep me grounded. This is for them, too.”
Sharp’s journey has been a marathon, not a sprint. COVID stole momentum, injuries cost him months, and the super-featherweight limit nearly broke him. Yet, he stands unbowed, his body free of the mileage that wears down lesser fighters. “I’ve got no damage,” he says, his optimism infectious. “My body feels good. I’ve got another eight, 10 years left.”
As he prepares to step into Hughes’ backyard, Sharp is relishing the challenge. “I like going into the lion’s den. It’s just me, my trainer from day one, and a job to do.” A win over Hughes could open doors to bigger fights but he isn’t looking too far ahead. “I’m not jumping around, shouting my mouth off,” he says. “I’m just going to do my thing and come home with the belts.”
