AFTER boxing for the final time in late 2021, Chris Algieri has become a warrior, finding peace. In retirement, the New Yorker has established himself as a talented commentator. Speaking to Boxing News, he reflects on a fine fighting career in the same articulate way.
How happy are you in retirement?
I feel fulfilled. I’m more involved in the sport than I’ve ever been. When I was younger, I was absolutely obsessed with boxing – I consumed everything I could. I’d get books; I’d read about the sport online; I’d order VHS and DVD collections of my favourite fighters, and I’d regularly go to fights at The Garden.
When I started to box professionally [in 2008], I very quickly got very disenchanted because of the politics and my dealings with promoters, which exhausted me. In retirement, I’m again consuming everything I can. It’s been a hard transition, but I’m happy.
Before I announced my retirement [last June], I knew I was finished, because I kept getting injured. I’d intended on fighting again, but three camps in a row, I got injured. I realised if I couldn’t train at full blast, I couldn’t fight the top guys, and if I couldn’t fight the top guys, I didn’t want to fight. The realisation that I’m human sucked. I didn’t express that to anyone around me, but I knew I was done.
Four to six months in, it became difficult to wrap my head around. I was super busy [commentating and analysing] with ProBox TV, but in my alone time I’d think about what could have been. I really wanted to be a world champion again. Everything was falling into place, and then the pandemic hit and everything came to a screeching halt.
I lost my positioning, tried to get it back, and things weren’t working out. It wasn’t meant to be. That left a hole, because I felt unfinished business and I’ve always been goal-orientated. But when I finally announced the retirement, I clicked that button and let it go. It was a release. People ask all the time [if I’ll return], but since I’ve decided, I’ve never even thought about it.
Even before my adult life, I went to sleep every night throwing punches in my head; thinking about combinations, technique. Every night. A couple years ago that ended. In hindsight, that was probably the true beginning of the end. I’d [previously] be laying in bed twitching, mid-combination as I fell asleep. That was an acknowledgement that it was time.
My mum [Adriana, at the age of 72] recently died of brain cancer. She was always asking when I was going to stop. It was horrible [to lose her]. I’m glad she got to see the end of my career; got to see me retire, so she wouldn’t worry.
If I were to focus on certain things like, “I wish I was with Top Rank earlier; I wish I did this; I wish I did that”, it would take away from my satisfaction about my career, because I am very satisfied. A lot of people look at me as an overachiever – I actually think the opposite. I think I left a lot of things on the table – money, and belts – [because of] situations that were beyond my control. But the opportunities I had I maximised. That’s why I’m satisfied with my career. I’m not really a person who holds on to regrets.
How much easier, and indeed difficult, has being a commentator made it?
At first, it was really, really hard. My commentating career overlapped my fighting career, which helped, because I got so analytical and studied fighters and styles. But seeing guys get opportunities, who didn’t understand the little intricacies of sport the way that I do – “Man, I wish I was in this position” – made it difficult. But a very specific fight happened, and it flipped – it was Robbie Davies-Sergey Lipinets.
Crazy fight; awesome fight; they’re killing each other. Robbie bridged the gap with heart and grit; nose was shattered; bleeding everywhere. These were the fights I used to love – Arturo Gatti was my hero. Watching that, I was, “I never want to be in that situation ever again.” A lightbulb went off in my head: “Dude, you are really done.”
Working with Paulie [Malignaggi, regular co-commentator] has been fantastic, because he was always my favourite commentator. He has a brilliant way of breaking things down. I’ve always loved the way he analysed fights. He forced me to level up quite a bit once we started working together – he’s also a historian of the sport, able to call back dates and fights; it’s very, very impressive – and we’ve only gotten better working with each other, because we give each other ideas and talk all the time. Part of the reason retirement’s easier is because it’s fun – it’s not just a job – and Paulie’s a big part of that.
What do you reflect on as the highlights of your fighting career?
Obviously the Ruslan [Provodnikov] fight [in 2014, to win the WBO super-lightweight title]. It was the culmination of so much – and fighting in my hometown, Huntington Island [New York], at the Paramount [Theatre]. I sold that place out 11 times and was the first to bring TV there as the main event. They call it “The house that Chris Algieri built”.
When the Provodnikov fight was announced I was a 15 or 20/1 underdog. I was picked because I had a good record and sold tickets in New York. I remember watching Ruslan on ESPN mowing down guys. He was brutal. Super nice guy – you could see that before or after fights – but when that bell rang, he was a demon unleashed. The fact he and I are the same species blows my mind. I remember thinking, “I’d never want to fight a guy like that”. Naturally, when I get my title shot, it’s literally that guy.
I was going to retire at the end of 2013 – I was really upset with what was happening with my career. I wasn’t moving. It just wasn’t coming together. I was at Magomed Abdusalamov-Mike Perez with my brother Mike. Abdusalamov goes into a coma and a week later I walked into my promoter’s office and go, “I essentially just watched a man die – this is a dangerous sport, and the few shekels I’m getting for fighting at home aren’t doing it for me”.
I was a personal trainer at the time. I made more money in the two months it took to train [for a fight] when training people. It wasn’t adding up. Where I wanted to be, how good I thought I was, and the money that was coming in – plus the danger. He called me a week later and offered me Emanuel Taylor. The money wasn’t much, but it was an ESPN main event. I accepted it on the spot. They were setting him up to fight Ruslan; they liked the way Taylor fought.
I go out there and box his ears off, and that set up the Ruslan fight. I was going out to win, and that first goddamn round happens [Algieri got knocked down twice] – my orbital bone was destroyed. I literally thought he’d punched a hole in my skull. I was looking up at the megatron, seeing if my face was still there.
Everything went numb; I felt a fist-sized gaping nothingness in my cheek, but the nerves right around that area were on fire. I couldn’t see [properly]. It was a very, very scary moment. My nose was bleeding profusely – I was drinking blood the entire fight; couldn’t see out of the eye for most of the second half of the fight. The doctor kept coming in the corner. “One more round, Chris.” “No – I’m winning the fight. He’s not hitting me.” If I’d given them any idea that I was uncomfortable or wasn’t in the fight, they’d have stopped it. I was blind going into the last round and lied. “I can see – I’m good.”
My [late] coach Tim Lane did an amazing job that night. After the first round, I got back to my corner, and everyone was panicked – especially the cut man. I got dropped twice and my eye is swollen shut. I was mad at myself, but I wasn’t overly panicked. Tim said something so perfect. “Don’t worry, baby – we still got our lead eye.”
As soon as the [final] bell ended, I knew I won. [Provodnikov] knew – I could see it in his face. [But] I thought I was going to get robbed. They wanted Ruslan-Manny Pacquiao. They gave it to me. I had my hands up, my eyes were closed, and then that belt hit my shoulder – that was everything. It was surreal. They were trying to rush me off to the hospital and I said, “No – I’m going to my press conference”.
Do you ever worry about your health?
Absolutely. A lot of the time, brain damage shows up later in life. You can leave your career sharp, and then it degrades, and that’s something every fighter has to live with. I don’t care who you are and how little you got hit and how sharp you are afterwards, if you’re not thinking about that, you’re just avoiding reality. It’s one of the reasons I keep myself in such good shape.
I eat well, I keep my body in shape, I understand that damage to your brain can be exacerbated by your diet, the amount of sugar in your system, the amount of alcohol you put in, your sleep hygiene. I’m doing a lot of things to make sure my brain’s as healthy as it can be.
Are you financially secure?
I don’t have to fight. I was very conscious of my fight money. I always worked in between fights. My fight purses were for my future, that’s how I treated it. I was always grinding. I looked at my fight money as almost untouchable. I was buying real estate; investing in the stock market; in retirement. That’s what my fight money was. My day-to-day money was the money I was making day-to-day. I attribute it to my upbringing and my family, and having good mentors.
Was Manny Pacquiao the best you fought?
Yes, for a number of reasons. He was super fast, but he wasn’t the fastest – [Amir] Khan was faster. He hit super hard, but he wasn’t the hardest – Ruslan hit harder. [But] he was very difficult to deal with in every way. He’s a much better boxer than he gets credit for. He’s a rhythm fighter – he’s got his own, off-beat rhythm he changes throughout the fight.
I was a rhythm fighter as well. I could see him acknowledge I got him, and then he’d change his rhythm again. Or I’d find it, and then he’d crack me. He was really good at keeping me stunned, wobbled or hurt. I’d recover and then he’d hurt me again. His ability to comprehend what was happening in the ring was next level, and his conditioning was off the charts.
People ask, “What was it like fighting Pacquiao?” It wasn’t the Pacquiao fight, it was the Pacquiao experience. We did a seven-city press tour. Being around Bob Arum; being around Freddie Roach. Freddie and I actually struck up a friendship, and we’re still quite friendly. Pacquiao’s a global phenomenon. Fight week was very strange – Macau’s a very manufactured place.
The fight itself was horrible. I wasn’t prepared for Pacquiao – I don’t know how you prepare for Pacquiao. Coming off the Ruslan fight, the eye shortened my sparring quite a bit, and that’s a guy you need to spar [for]. The hardest part about fighting Pacquiao is preparing for Pacquiao. The fight went the way it went [Algieri got knocked down six times before losing via decision] and to this day I’m disgusted. I hate how it went.
I’ve watched it back once, and it’s emotional for me. It really set me back, career-wise. Granted, it padded my bank account, but it set me back, which is why I came back and fought Amir Khan, who at the time was beating the crap out of everybody. Coming right back after that [Pacquiao] fight was by design – it was to make up ground, because of the Pacquiao performance.
[The prospect of Manny returning] I don’t love. I’m not worried about tainting his legacy – his legacy’s set in stone. He can do whatever he wants. But it leaves me wondering why – what is there left to do for him? He’s accomplished so much. There’s other things he could be doing. Old brains don’t take punches well. I worry – we’re seeing a lot of these older fighters coming back and taking damage.
How did you feel when it emerged that your former opponents Khan and Conor Benn failed drugs tests?
I wasn’t surprised. There’s always talks of guys and whether they’re on stuff. I’m pretty jaded at this point. It doesn’t anger me anymore. I just shrug my shoulders. It seems to me, when you get to a certain level, it’s way more prevalent than anyone knows – than anyone even wants to acknowledge. But I acknowledge that. I know it’s common.
