British Boxers Find Something Amiss with Domestic Bliss
By Eoin Redahan
The contrasting portrayal of British-based boxers in the U.S. and U.K. media tells its own story: If these fighters want credibility across the Atlantic, then they must fight there on a regular basis.
A beeping alarm teased the mountain from its slumber. It stretched its rugged frame, drank a cup of coffee, and told its wife it would be back by nightfall. It rumbled across the land and sloshed across the ocean as inconspicuously as possible before arriving at its friend’s door.
Muhammad sprang from his sitting to answer the doorbell. The mountain – which towered above the doorstep – had brought a packet of biscuits. “That was nice of you,” smiled Muhammad. “I had thought of coming to you, but I figured you would turn up at my door sooner or later.” “That’s exactly what Joe Calzaghe said,” the mountain replied.
If boxing in the U.S. can be likened to a mountain, then British-based (and European) boxers play the part of Muhammad. The mountain stays where it is, and the boxers come to it. The reality for fighters based in Europe is that they have very little chance of exposure in the U.S. if they stay where they are. They can win world titles and even fight a sprinkling of U.S. opponents in foreign climbs, but few will attain credibility without that move. This taints legacies, lightens fortunes, and reduces popularity.
Amir Khan and David Haye are two British world champions who seem to suffer from this dearth of exposure (and credibility). Khan is yet to fight in the U.S. and Haye hasn’t been enticed back since fighting in the Playboy Mansion in 2003. This is reflected in the paucity of column inches in many prominent U.S. newspapers. Not only do the The New York Times, Washington Post, Los Angeles Times and Boston Globe (among others) offer scant boxing coverage for domestic fights; they publish markedly less for fights outside the U.S.
Take David Haye as an example. He forged his name as a swashbuckling cruiserweight with awesome power and a flighty chin. He moved from the relative comfort of cruiserweight, and within about a year he defeated the gargantuan Nikolai Valuev for a world heavyweight title in Nuremberg, Germany. You would think that this would merit a glut of articles in U.S. papers along the David vs. Goliath and Evander Holyfield reincarnate themes. You would be wrong.
The Boston Globe’s sportlog on November 8 provides a case in print. Buried beneath a deluge of winter sports, tennis miscellany, golf, and sophomore basketball, there is a line that reads: “David Haye won the World Boxing Association heavyweight title with a split decision over Nikolai Valuev in Nuremberg, Germany.” The Chad Dawson vs. Glen Johnson bout of the same night is also endowed with a single line of text. There were 807 words in that article; the new world heavyweight champion was worthy of 19.
A blog from the online newspaper, The Huffington Post, offered a starker reminder of the fighter’s lack of profile. An article entitled “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fightin’” asked if anyone knew either Valuev or “the anonymous Brit” he was up against. It continued: “Give up? Nikolai Valuev lost to a bloke named David Haye. Who said Haye is for horses?”
Amir Khan’s coverage in The New York Times after his win over Dmitriy Salita (in December) speaks volumes about his renown stateside. In a briefing, taken from the Agence France-Presse newswire, only one sentence was devoted to the Bolton boxer’s exploits against his Brooklyn-based opponent.
In that particular brief, Khan also received second billing; the first paragraph covered Julio Cesar Chavez Junior’s positive diuretic test. Even a much-maligned fighter with a heavily-padded record gets more column inches in a briefing than the world light welterweight champion.
This contrasts sharply with the amount of media coverage both boxers receive in the U.K. While boxing is a niche sport in Britain, world titleholders still are still the objects of fervid prose and televised hype.
For instance, despite the fact that he had fought only once in 2009 in a dull and uninspiring contest, David Haye was placed on the shortlist of 10 for the BBC sports personality of the year (he finished ninth).
Similarly, in a November 10th article with The Times of London, Haye was described as having “just made the move into the superstar bracket.” Considering the indifference of many high profile U.S. publications, it is safe to assume that he doesn’t enjoy a similarly stratospheric profile in the U.S. Therein lies the crux of the matter. Haye may be large beer in the U.K., but he will not receive adequate recognition until he makes waves on American shores.
Perhaps he should follow the example of Lennox Lewis, Britain’s closest embodiment of a heavyweight “superstar.” After fighting mainly in Britain and Canada for the early part of his career, Lewis took on all comers in Las Vegas, New York and New Jersey (among other venues). He indented his status by making the U.S. the platform for showcasing his pugilistic prowess.
Encouragingly, David Haye would appear to be almost as marketable as Lewis was. He is not as accomplished technically, but he is exciting to watch, has a huge knockout percentage and brings genuine charisma to boxing’s whirligig; however, it seems that, unless he fights in the US regularly – or knocks out a Klitschko brother – he will struggle for mainstream exposure.
The same pertains to Khan. His pay-per-view defeat of Juan Antonio Barrera may have made a major statement about his credentials in Europe, and his victory over Andrea Kotelnik cemented that promise; however, his lack of fight-time stateside means that he desperately needs to start fighting established names in the U.S. to garner significant notice from fight fans. Khan needs to go in against fighters such as Malignaggi, Bradley, Maidana, Marquez, or Ortiz to become credible.
At least both David Haye and Amir Khan seem to be in a good position to broaden the public lens. Khan has signed on with Golden Boy and trains with Freddie Roach; and, despite promoting himself, Haye has a working relationship with the same body. As we have seen in the past, the failure to clasp this U.S. meal ticket can famish a boxer’s legacy.
Joe Calzaghe is a prime example of this. He comprised many of the ingredients needed to become a darling of U.S. fight fans. He had blurring hand speed for a big man; he retained cat-like reflexes throughout his career; he was undefeated and had a durable chin; he even the good looks we are constantly told are so marketable; however, Calzaghe fought outside the U.K. only four times in a 46-fight career. He lingered on the eastern side of the Atlantic until Roy Jones’ and Bernard Hopkins’ temples sprouted suggestions of grey. By that stage, many hardened U.S. fans’ respect for him had eroded, and his American legacy is tainted despite his outstanding ability.
The grim truth for many British and European boxers is that, like Calzaghe, their credibility is largely dependent on U.S. exposure. The indifference of its media provides the starkest of mirrors.
As the saying goes: If the mountain will not come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must come to the mountain.