THOUGH posted from his own social media account, the former British super-featherweight champion was never going to write the message himself. It would have been too hard. Too hard to think about. Too hard to put into words. It was tough enough, heโd discover, just hitting send. โI really didnโt want to do this,โ the message began, โbut it has got to the point where I have to. Iโve struggled with life after boxing and messed a lot of things up. Iโm looking for a job.โ
Send.
The fear, at first, was that the intended recipients would deem it a cry for help and crying for help, Gary Sykes believed, was a sign of weakness. It was a lesson taught to him by boxing, and the rules of the game, for better or worse, stay with a fighter long after the sport, the teacher, has packed up and left. See you and good luck, itโs typically at this point a boxer, this breed of half-formed men and woman for whom fighting is not only a career but a life, might require civilian intervention.
I really didn't want to do this but it has got to the point where I have to.
I've struggled with life after boxing and messed a lot of things up.
I'm looking for a job.
I have a level 2 PT course and starting a level 3 course but not qualified yet.
CAD design mentored!— Gary Sykes (@GarySykesBoxer) August 30, 2018
โMy mate wrote that out for me,โ Sykes explains. โHe thought I was going down the wrong path. I was drinking and turning into a bit of an idiot. He messaged me and said, โMate, if you donโt tweet this message right now, Iโm going to fall out with you.โ
โI was reluctant, but I thought I had to do it. So, I did. Iโm not the cleverest of people. I should have thought about doing that myself. But Iโve got a bit of pride as well.โ
Pride can take a boxer to a gym, it can help win fights, and it can drive them on when instinct tells them to stop. Pride, it could be argued, is as crucial to a boxerโs success as speed, stamina, strength and the many other tangible attributes regularly analysed by pundits.
Unlike these attributes, however, it can also be detrimental. It can, for instance, force a fighter to approach a fight in a headstrong manner, ignore the game plan, and receive unnecessary punishment as a result. It can encourage them to take ill-advised risks. Worst of all, in retirement, this period in a boxerโs life that strips them of routine and recognition, it can be the single attribute that comes back to bite them in the most unforgiving of ways. It can derail them. It can silence them.
Should this happen, boxers, as is their custom, will invariably stick it out, persevere and โman upโ. Yet one day, and the day comes for all of them, a former boxer will realise all that remains from their time beneath the lights are traits developed in the gym, honed over the years, that serve little purpose in the real world. Itโs then a life away from boxing becomes every bit as perilous and lonely as a life in boxing.
โI thought I was going to be 30 years of age, a multiple world champion, and retired,โ says Liverpoolโs former British super-middleweight champion Tony Dodson, now 38. โHow far from the truth was that? When youโre 18 or 19, you think you know everything. Really, though, you know nothing. Youโre wet behind the ears. The reality of real life is so different. I learned the hard way.โ
Itโs the lie with which boxing tempts all its applicants: be good, win some fights, secure a title or two, and youโll never have to work again. But the truth, of course, is quite different. The truth needs to come with a disclaimer or two. It needs to mention the role of good fortune, and it needs to mention the importance of being marketable, finding rivalries and prioritising money over legacy. Itโs not romantic, granted. It doesnโt do the boxerโs struggle justice. But itโs preferable to the lie.
โTo start with, retirement was so refreshing,โ says Sykes, 34, retired since a second-round defeat to Luke Campbell in 2016. โI could eat what I want, I could go out to parties, and I loved it. But then after a while I found it really difficult. I wasnโt training, I wasnโt getting those endorphins, and I got a bit lost. I started drinking, going out, and trying to find buzzes from other places. It was really hard. I missed it so much. Without boxing, Iโve got no focus. Iโve got no willpower at all.
โMy life has really gone downhill since I retired. I never put anything in place when I was boxing because my parents never really gave me good advice when it came to investing my money. You never think youโre going to lose.โ
Itโs bizarre to comprehend a one-time boxer losing focus and willpower, but retirement, by its nature, is one monumental release. Itโs a release from work and from all the feelings, emotional and physical, once associated with this work. A boxer will lose other things, too.
โI miss the feeling of routine and the excitement of winning,โ says Dodson, whose last fight, a victory, was in 2016. โI do not miss dieting and I do not miss getting punched in the head, though. I do not miss sacrificing everything thatโs enjoyable to try and succeed in a sport where you have a very, very, very slim chance of making enough money to live a comfortable life. For what Iโve sacrificed as a human being, and given what Iโve achieved, it really wasnโt worth it.โ
Some miss it more than others. Jesus Chavez, for instance, a world champion at super-featherweight and lightweight, maintains heโs as happy in retirement as he was when pursuing boxing gold. He feels this way because, one, he achieved his goal of becoming a world champion, and, two, he flourishes in retirement as a case manager for a restaurant in Dallas, Texas, where he helps disenfranchised youths.
โItโs called Cafe Momentum and what we do there is employ kids,โ says Chavez, who last boxed in 2010. โMy work is what I really enjoy right now. I have a case load of, like, 13 or 14 kids I look after. They are troubled kids and they come from detention facilities.
โItโs a non-profit organisation. I help the kids with whatever issues they may have: going to their PO (probation officer), running errands. We help with housing, medical insurance and so on. We try to look out for them. This restaurant helps them and gives them a second chance.โ
Less of a job, more of a passion, it seems to have also offered Chavez, 45, the chance to move on. โI donโt follow boxing at all,โ he admits. โI watch a fight here and there, but thatโs it. Itโs in my blood, so thereโs no way Iโll ever discard it from my life, but Iโm not a massive fan. I donโt miss anything about boxing. I never really enjoyed fighting. I know I sound two-faced when I say that because if I didnโt enjoy fighting โ which I really didnโt โ what made me the most offensive fighter in the sport?โ
Pride, perhaps.
Last year, Tony Dodsonโs pride was nipping at him and continually reminding him of its presence. It kept him in a state of deflation and depression on the living room sofa, and for months he festered there, putting on weight โ mind and body โ and rueing everything that led to that point. But then one day, out of the blue, the old โWarriorโ swallowed it. He forgot all about his boxing career and what could have been and instead applied to become a different kind of fighter.
โIt was a natural progression for me to try and implement the structure from boxing to firefighting,โ says Dodson, whoโd previously worked for Crosby Fire Serviceโs street intervention team. โLetโs not forget Iโve been boxing since I was six. All Iโve known is structure and routine.
โI was sitting around turning into a fat b*****d. I went up to sixteen stone eight. I had a car crash and got compression damage in my wrist and I basically sat on my arse and got depressed. I couldnโt punch for fifteen weeks. It was like someone was up there telling me fighting wasnโt for me anymore.
โThankfully, because I was working part-time for the fire service, I knew when they were going to start recruiting and I applied. When I got confirmed in February, I had to retire (from boxing). Iโm getting more money in the fire service.
โI feel blessed. Firefighters are considered heroes. People look up to you. We drive around every day and people are waving at us and asking if they can have a go on the appliances. People are infatuated with firefighters. We have people who actually hang out at the station and take pictures of us as we come out.โ
Dodson, a fully-fledged firefighter in Crosby, was recently on the top deck of a ship fighting a fire at five oโclock in the evening and thought not once about his days punching people. Because firefighting, he understands, is the ultimate kind of fighting. Itโs selfless fighting. Itโs fighting spared the hype and the undercurrent of greed and ego that permeates. In retirement, David Starie, a fellow super-middleweight, chose the same path and Dodson, extinguishing fires alongside former amateur boxer Neil Suku, now knows why.
โI get it now,โ he says. โIf youโd told me this when I was fighting, Iโd have said, โNo, theyโre only doing a bit of firefighting.โ But I know now what we actually risk and how dangerous a job it is. Itโs so selfless.
โWhen youโre going into a building thatโs absolutely pitch black, and you canโt see in front of your face, itโs a thousand degrees, and your life is on the line, you know the difference. You canโt get any braver than that. In the ring, youโre being brave, but you know itโs unlikely youโre going to get seriously hurt. In a fire, youโre going into the unknown. A fire is one nasty motherf***er. It can turn in a second.โ
Gary Sykesโ social media message, meanwhile, the one he never wanted to write, received an outpouring of goodwill and a job offer. โI got a job ten minutes later,โ he says. โIโm now laying granite worktops. Itโs just to keep me going at the moment. Iโm not a manโs man. My ex-girlfriend used to tell me that all the time. All I knew was boxing.โ
Ask former boxers about regret, things theyโd do differently if given the opportunity, and the ones able to relinquish pride will rattle off a long list. Dodson and Sykes are no exception. โWhen I was younger, I could talk clearer than I can now,โ Sykes concedes. โI did a graphic design course and a part of me wishes I carried on down that road and didnโt box. I put all my eggs in the wrong basket.โ
Sykesโ first post-boxing job was in CAD (computer-aided drafting) design. He liked it initially, because it represented a clean break from the fight game, but then his โhead started to goโ, and his attendance suffered as a result. He was drinking, heโd split with his girlfriend, and the boxing gym continued to call. He wanted help but wouldnโt dare ask for it. โItโs been hard, but Iโm positive I can sort it out,โ says the Yorkshireman, who now intends to complete a level three personal training course.
Dodson, on the other hand, is still fighting in one sense but is now fuelled by the sort of contentment some retired fighters will spend decades trying to discover. โThe person I owe all of this to is my father, Eric,โ he says. โItโs the foundations he secured for me as a human, as a person, as a son, that have made me make these decisions and go for things like a job with the fire service. If he hadnโt put the structure in place, I wouldnโt have the mentality Iโve got. I wouldnโt have gone for it.
โHe always said, โTony, youโre brilliant at fighting, but youโve always got to think about the future. The fire service is a massive and respected organisation and if you could get involved there when you finish boxing it would be great for you.โ He told me it would suit me down to the ground. He was right.โ
Grounded. For as long as a boxerโs active, itโs a position they are taught to avoid. In retirement, however, itโs often the key.