‘I SHOULD be in Dusseldorf.’ As I stand by my brother’s side this Saturday, ready to pass him the rings and fulfil various other Best Man duties at his third (yes, third) wedding, will this shameful thought enter my mind? Or will the only pangs of guilt emanate from the fact I am in Stevenage rather than Germany and the unshakeable feeling that I have somehow let Tyson Fury down.
How strange it is this dynamic between boxer and writer. Tyson Fury and I are not friends – he has no idea it’s my brother’s wedding. I don’t even kid myself that he trusts me implicitly – Fury that is, not my brother although the same could apply – as I do not believe he would bestow that honour upon anyone outside his immediate family. But as he approaches the pivotal point of an enigmatic, always entertaining career, challenging Wladimir Klitschko for the world heavyweight title, I am moved to reflect on my somewhat trifling status as arguably the journalist who has most intimately documented a professional career that has, in its timeline at least, almost mirrored my own.
Next – page 2 of 6: The Fury Journey begins
A YEAR after I joined Boxing News, I was ringside for the brand and simultaneously did ITV ‘a solid’ as a researcher, when Fury debuted on the Carl Froch-Jean Pascal show in Nottingham. He dispatched Bela Gyongyosi with eye-catching ease, displaying handspeed and movement that belied his 6ft 9in size. His promoter Mick Hennessy, then riding a terrestrial TV wave we all hoped would endure (spoiler alert: it did not), appeared to have unearthed a diamond in the rough… well, Wilmslow.
I would watch Tyson’s first four pro fights live and Fury’s victories over bonkers German “Highlander” (Christopher Lambert should sue) Marcel Zeller, ballsy but comparatively tiny Lee Swaby and hirsute upset merchant Daniel Peret failed to overwrite my initial impression: Fury had talent to burn.
The TV channels would change more than once and Fury eventually moved from one uncle, first pro trainer Hughie, to another in the more rigid, professional Peter, who added discipline, strategy and dedication to his nephew’s ability. Despite significant upheaval, including mercurial maverick David Haye twice withdrawing from domestic superfights against him, Fury has been able to progress largely unhindered. He can be moved to anger rapidly but is not the kind to dwell or hold a grudge.
Next – page 3 of 6: Meeting Fury
I HAVE been ringside at eight of his pro contests, spoken to him countless times on the phone and conducted three lengthy face-to-face interviews with the giant. The first of these took place in February 2011, in Lancaster where then-trainer Hughie mocked the unfortunate photographer’s physique and traveller Tyson flew me down the road atop an old horse cart. Fury was staying in a modest caravan outside his uncle’s home.
“I’ll tell you what makes a traveller,” he told me. “You’re born one, like you’re born black. You can’t just become a black man can you? You can’t just say, ‘I’m gonna be a traveller today. That’s what you are. Jumping in a caravan doesn’t make you a traveller. I’ve got Irish descent, I’m born in Manchester, but I’m not Irish or English, I’m a gypsy.”
Fury back then was uncut, unabridged and far less guarded than he is now. With maturity has come a degree of reticence despite evidence to the contrary. On that occasion, Fury was just 22, not merely proud of his traditional values but raw enough to espouse them to the media.
“How can a woman be as respected as a man?” Fury asked rhetorically. “I know women’s rights and all that and someone’s just been sacked off the telly for saying a woman shouldn’t be doing a referee’s job, but I totally agree with him to be honest. A woman’s a woman – she’s there to be loved and cook some food and have some kids basically. And wash up. Not to get involved in men’s businesses. It’s like we’re talking now and my wife wouldn’t come in and get involved in this conversation because it’s none of her business. But I know your general public woman wouldn’t put up with that ’coz she would want to be involved, she’d want a pair of b******s. She wants to boss a man about and be in control of the money. We don’t agree with that.”
Next – page 4 of 6: Peter Fury takes over
THE next time Fury and I got together again, in November 2012, Peter – who has been incredibly helpful over the years – was at the helm of Team Fury and appropriately enough the taskmaster, Tyson and I met at a indoor running track in Belfast. The photographer this time got off easier – mirth isn’t really Peter’s style. The pair were a week away from Fury’s points win over Kevin Johnson and there was growing evidence – beyond his admirable and hitherto unseen abdominal muscles – of Fury’s new-found commitment to his vocation.
“The training I was doing, I wasn’t so confident that I was going to go much further than I was,” Fury candidly conceded. “I looked in the mirror one day and I thought, ‘It’s not for me, this, I’m going to do something else [with his life] or get in proper shape.’ I spun a coin – heads or tails, box or not box – and boxing won, so I decided to get myself in proper shape, and I knew Peter was training a couple of lads down there in Manchester so I decided to go and give him a try. I liked what I saw so I stayed.
“I was never in shape, after three or four rounds I’d always be tired and professional fighters should be able to do 12 rounds. I don’t know how I won so many fights and beat some good fighters because I never had any fitness, my footwork was all over the show, balance, everything. I won on heart and determination. Now I’ve got all the right conditioning and nutrition, we’re going to go ahead full steam.”
Tyson and Peter had experienced two stoppage triumphs since linking up and pre-Johnson the heavyweight was projecting less bravado but more genuine confidence. “This Tyson Fury, he’s an Alexander [as in ‘The Great’],” he laughed. “I think my style is indestructible; I’ve got a good jab, good movement, good footwork, power, good chin; it’s going to take a good man to beat me.”
Five additional wins later, Fury has been proved accurate in that assumption.
Next – page 5 of 6: The final furlong
FINALLY, I invited myself to their training camp near Liverpool for the biggest fight of Tyson’s life, some two months ago. Sharing a caravan with his father, John, an ex-pro not long out of prison, Fury was gloomy, nihilistic even, and I received a call from a fellow writer concerned at Tyson’s mental wellbeing so close to his greatest challenge. But while we are not best buddies, I know Fury sufficiently well to appreciate his caprice, if not entirely understand it. His mood changes day to day – he morphs from ebullient and verbose to desperately bitter sometimes within the same conversation. The Fury I last met will have no relation to the one who steps into the ring on Saturday. Perhaps his most valuable quality against the highly disciplined Klitschko is that very unpredictability.
“I’m the most negative person in the world,” Tyson summarises. “I’m not interested in being an ambassador for anything or holding titles for a long time. There’s nothing that makes me happy, I’ve tried everything. There’s my happiness there,” he suddenly blurted, pointing to a nearby Bible which he proceeded to pick up and open at a pre-selected page. “God. I think I’m a very spiritual person and without this thing ‘ere, my life ain’t worth living. When I went down the wrong track, having a good time, driving fast, drinking, messing around with women, anything that feels good or you like is bad to this. I was gonna read you a little passage and I think this is why I’m not really bothered about nothing: ‘Do not value world success. Do not trust worldly wealth. Repent wherever you have done these things. Recognise that worldly assets have no spiritual or heavenly value. Return to a spiritual value system wherever you have departed. Do not adopt the world’s way of thinking or standards of behaviour.’”
In an erratic life and career, Fury’s faith has been his one unwavering asset – both in God and himself.
Next – page 6 of 6: Should I stay or should I go?
I DON’T think Fury cares if I’m there for the Klitschko fight or not but our relationship is not as one-sided as it may seem. Through his eventful path, erratic personality and the access he has allowed me, I have been able to improve my own status, crafting well-regarded articles in large part due to his memorable words. Fury would be the fighter he is regardless; I would not be the writer I am (for better or worse) without Fury.
So I should be in Dusseldorf. Who really needs to get married three times anyway – you’re not Henry VIII bro! I have to do my fraternal duty of course but do I not have another responsibility toward Fury whose journey I have followed assiduously? Maybe I can leave the reception early – there are no speeches – and watch Fury’s coronation or disappointment from my sofa. I owe him that much.
