By Elliot Worsell
SUCH is the obsession with accumulating in boxing, whether thatโs rounds, or belts, or wealth, there remains a belief that comfort can be found in numbers and that to be surrounded by people is a sign not of weakness but in fact strength.
Apparently, the more people you have telling you how strong you are, the stronger you feel. The more people you have looking at you and following you, the more you feel as though you have made it.
Yet surely this, as an idea, flies in the face of what it means to be truly strong and successful, does it not? If, for example, a boxer does indeed require the presence of other men in order to feel at the peak of their powers, what does that really say for their strength? Moreover, if success can only be measured by the amount of people jostling to exploit a boxerโs ignorance, what does that say for the true meaning of success?
The truth is, there has always been a correlation between the success of a boxer and the number of people surrounding them. Win fights, get noticed, and soon they arrive, like cars slowing down at the scene of an accident. Similarly, there has always been a correlation between the rise in the number of people surrounding a boxer and the reduction of collective knowledge in the room; gym or elsewhere.
These thoughts returned to me recently when a couple of boxers mentioned entourages and how their success of late owed to a concerted effort to keep theirs small โ non-existent really. Both, too, were speaking from that most valuable position: experience.
โI learned a few dos and donโts on fight week,โ said Frazer Clarke, a British heavyweight who was reflecting on the time he worked security at the start of his boxing career. โAs you see, I donโt come with a big crowd of people. I donโt want a big entourage. Iโm quite low maintenance. Iโm not a superstar and donโt try to act like one.โ
Likewise, Andy Lee, a former world middleweight champion who has in retirement become quite the coach, has attributed the uptick in form of Joseph Parker, his heavyweight, to a stripped-back approach.
โCompared to camps Iโve been in with other fighters, where there has been 15 people hanging around and everyone has a say or an opinion, and theyโre quite strong personalities, this is completely different,โ Lee said. โIn our camp itโs just me, Joe (Parker) and George (Lockhart; Parkerโs strength and conditioning coach). Everyone else is just happy to be there โ if they are there.โ
For a coach there is presumably no nicer feeling than space and no better sound than silence. In this environment, after all, there is ample room in which to learn and far less chance of the stock platitudes and hollow praise of others becoming the single thing driving the boxer. In this environment, you tend to find the only ingredients a boxer really needs: gloves, a dream, and a coach.
Rarely, however, is boxing ever this simple or pure. In fact, often what happens when a boxer becomes successful is that their gym is quickly polluted with people more than happy to give the boxer whatever it is they want to see or hear, bullshit fed to them on a drip. This can be related to boxing, which is the stuff really hard to swallow, or it can be related to outside pursuits, business propositions and future plans, all of which have a way of catching the boxerโs ear and highlighting their inability to discern the difference between snakes and ladders. Typically, too, these people will be working for free and will be remunerated only in the feeling of belonging and being accepted, or in the form of ringside tickets. For some, this is enough; enough to keep them coming back; enough to ensure they say what the boxer wants to hear; enough for them to live vicariously through another man.
Thatโs why gyms of successful boxers tend to be full of people standing around wasting time watching one man go about their work, invariably topless. In the process, these men will make small talk with each other, creating tiny communities centred on the same niche interest (a specific boxer), and they will wait for the boxer to say something funny or do something physical, knowing their job then is to either clap their hands (if doing something physical) or laugh uncontrollably (if saying something funny). They are, in that sense, the great narrators of a boxerโs life, becoming, along the way, a voyeur who sees everything yet knows absolutely nothing about what it is they are seeing.
It is a strange phenomenon really, boxingโs tribalism. It becomes stranger, too, when you see a gaggle of geese follow a boxer into a press conference and occupy all the seats designated for press in order to essentially gaze in wonder and listen to the boxerโs every word as though in these words they will find the meaning of life; theirs, or more generally speaking. Followers in every sense, they will at this time usually be wearing clothes emblazoned with the boxerโs name, or their logo, and they will consider this their uniform, proof of their inclusion.
โI remember back in the Detroit days fighting on a Sergio Martinez undercard and heโd have a big entourage,โ said Lee. โAll of them would have Sergio Martinez tracksuits on with โTeam Maravillaโ on the back. There was something in that, I thought. A strength. It wasnโt intimidating, but it lets your opponent know.
โThereโs good and bad to having an entourage, I suppose. If itโs done right, it can be powerful. When Joe fights, his entourage will arrive โ his brother, his cousins, his friends, David Higgins (Parkerโs manager) โ and there will probably be 15 people with him all wearing the same tracksuits. So, when we go to the press conference, all the opponent is seeing is Joseph Parker tracksuits everywhere. When we then go to the weigh-in, weโre all together in uniform. Thereโs strength in those numbers and Joe probably feels insulated. Thereโs a sense of protection for him in terms of there being a barrier between him and journalists or the public or other fighters. The opponent feels it, too. They think, Look how many people heโs got here. It does mean something and there is strength in it. But it has to be done right and it very easily goes wrong.โ
Last year, while in Las Vegas covering the welterweight title fight between Terence Crawford and Errol Spence, I saw, at the pre-fight press conference, a press section overrun and dominated primarily by the two fightersโ entourages. There was, for some of the press, nowhere to sit as a result and, worse, soon it became all about them, the entourages, rather than the boxers on stage.
โYouโve got to calm down, brother,โ Crawford said, addressing Spenceโs cousin, who had thought it wise to start heckling him from press row. โListen, man. Things can get sticky real quick and then everybody will be saying this is what we do every time we come out. Just like youโre talking, it can turn deadly real quick โ on both sides. Why not support your fighter and letโs come together and make this event a success instead of everybody saying that when we come together this is what happens? Thatโs what I want.โ
Naturally, this exchange left everybody on edge; grateful for the metal detectors through which we had earlier passed when entering the T-Mobile Arena. It also shone a light on boxingโs desperation for attention and how, even at a press conference, we have allowed stories to be told by just about anyone to stoke the drama and create a viral moment for those standing around filming everything on cameras or phones. In that respect, one could argue that never has the job of sycophant been more important and potentially lucrative than today. After all, now, thanks in large part to social media, there is a chance these attention-seekers will be seen following a boxer and become online famous off the back of it. If in doubt, look around. Itโs happening everywhere. Stick with it long enough and you may even get a job.
And yet, despite its apparent upside, it is a mostly one-sided, transactional relationship, this relationship between boxer and hanger-on. It is warped from the very beginning, predicated on a one-way interest between two people that only seems peculiar when you try to reframe it; picture, for instance, a boxer showing up at a manโs office job every day of the week to sit near him at his desk and do no more than watch him go about his work. In that scenario, the behaviour of the boxer would be deemed unhinged, if not a little creepy. However, transpose the office for a boxing gym and all of a sudden the behaviour is deemed normal; normal, that is, until one day the boxer retires and there is both a sizeable void and a shared realisation. For the boxer, they soon come to realise the people around them, for the most part, cared only about them as The Boxer and what success in this role could do for them. This leads then to an identity crisis in retirement and an acceptance, for some easier than others, that not everyone in the real world is being followed by a team of people showing an unhealthy level of interest in their every move.
For the hanger-on, meanwhile, the realisation is just as stark. With the boxer now retired, they will likely realise once and for all how little the boxer actually knew, or for that matter cared, about them; the form of the fighter forever superseding the life of the observer.
โIโve been a person who has always kept their team small,โ said Michael Conlan. โI have very few close friends around me. I always see so many fucking hangers-on in boxing. Look at someone like (Anthony) Joshua, for instance. I think he has too many hangers-on and too many voices around him. Iโm not a fan of Ben Davison (Joshuaโs coach) as a person, but, as a coach, I think he has done a great job with Joshua and heโll continue doing a great job with him. He seems to have got into his head as a single voice and Joshua appears to trust him. Thatโs a good thing.โ
When turning pro in 2017, Conlan, a star amateur from Ireland, was walked to a ring inside Madison Square Garden by one Conor McGregor and appeared destined to find himself surrounded at every turn. Yet, in fairness to Conlan, that was never the path he took. Instead, upon turning pro he deliberately removed himself from the comforts of home and has throughout his career been something of a fighting vagabond, living for weeks on end wherever his gym happened to be located. That could mean Coulsdon, Croydon. Or it could mean Miami, Florida. Wherever it was, Conlan would be seen surrounded only by men who either think like him or look like him.
โI have my brother and we look at life from a brotherโs perspective first (Jamie Conlan also manages Michael),โ he said. โWhen I spar, the only person I send footage to is my brother. His opinion is one of the ones that matters to me. I just like things straight and honest. If youโre that way with me, Iโll be that way with you. Even if youโre not straight and honest with me, if I donโt like something, youโll know. If I like you, youโll know, and if I donโt, youโll also know. I find it very hard putting on false faces.
โThese people around boxers donโt have a clue. Too many of them are just fanboys, and I include the coaches in that. Some coaches will just say to their fighter, โYeah, itโs amazing,โ and not spot the things they should be spotting; or, if they do spot them, they are too scared to point them out.โ
โThe head coach has to be the captain of the ship,โ said Andy Lee in agreement. โHe decides everything; when itโs done and how itโs done. Thatโs when everything runs well. Those decisions shouldnโt be on the fighter. He should be focused on fighting and making weight, if thatโs the case. Thatโs how it is with Joe. He directs everything to me and I deal with it. But when you have entourages and theyโre not in sync, and you have a variety of people doing stuff that conflicts with the boxing, itโs not good.
โIโve been in some camps where there are too many people involved and every person has their opinion. If the coach is not a strong personality, or on top of everything, those voices can grow and easily turn a fighterโs head.โ
Lee himself, while a popular fighter who made friends wherever he went, was never inclined to have much of an entourage during his own career. โAll service is self-service,โ he said. โI used to always think that when someone did something for me.โ Equally, Lee was able to see how others fell for the lure of being surrounded by a chorus line content to continuously hum their favourite song. โWhatever insecurities you have, if someoneโs making you feel good about yourself, youโll take it. If the coach is saying youโre looking like shit in the gym, you might look for the words of someone else to restore your confidence. That stuff is very common for a coach to say, by the way. Sometimes you might need to hear it. But if thereโs also someone saying, โMan, youโre looking great,โ who are you going to listen to? You already feel insecure and bad about yourself.โ
The likes of Lee and Conlan, two men whose wisdom and humility were beaten into them by their first love, speak now from experience and with the benefit of both distance and hindsight.
For the younger fighters, though, fighters like Xander Zayas, a Puerto Rican of whom big things are expected, cautionary tales may sound like urban myths. Which is perhaps why Conlan, when hearing I was set to interview Zayas about his next fight, was adamant I should include the 21-year-old prospect in our conversation about entourages.
โI was around him in the Top Rank days and heโs a lovely kid,โ he said. โTop Rank are building him massively and maybe building him too fast. Heโs only young. He has time. But they want him to be the next fucking Miguel Cotto without, in my opinion, the substance behind it.
โWhen you have the backing of an entire country, you just need to know what is real and what is not in terms of the hype. You have to match the hype with the substance.
โI think he will probably be a bit blinded (to the dangers of an entourage), but you should ask him the question because then it at least puts it into his head that he needs to be smart about it. Youโre the only person who will ask these types of questions. People donโt ask these questions about entourages and stuff, so boxers arenโt even aware of what is happening to them. Stuff like this needs to be said and questions like this need to be asked. There are so many fucking snakes in boxing, people only in it for their self-benefit, and the fighters donโt realise this until it is too late.โ
So, on Thursday, I asked him. I asked Xander Zayas how he controlled the hype and the voices in his ear and I asked him how he limited the number of people allowed to get close to him.
โMy close circle knows that when Iโm in camp, weโre not going out, weโre not watching any movies, weโre not going to get food; weโre not doing anything. Iโm in camp,โ Zayas said. โThat means Iโm going from the gym to the house and from the house to the gym. Thatโs it.
โSecondly, youโll never see me with somebody different. Youโll see me with the same people every time out. I donโt like bringing in new people. Sometimes, if my friends are going somewhere, Iโll just stay home. I wouldnโt say Iโm anti-social, but I just donโt like it when they try to bring new people into my circle.โ
At 18-0 (12), Zayas, a super-welterweight, talks well and with refreshing maturity. Yet, of course, the conviction with which he currently speaks stems as much from inexperience and ignorance as simply maturity. For, after all, like most things in life, whether itโs love or loss, handling fame is not something for which you can adequately plan or prepare. Nor can a boxer like Xander Zayas ever expect to know or appreciate its impact until he is one day telling some other 21-year-old about the dangers of letting too many people in.
โI donโt think it will be hard,โ he said when, on Conlanโs behalf, I asked him if he was aware of what was to come. โIโll just say no.โ