The anomalous Paddy Fitzpatrick recounts his journey through boxing
I LEFT HOME AT 15. I’M NOT OF TRAVELLING STOCK BUT I’VE ALWAYS FELT MORE COMFORTABLE MOVING”
Paddy Fitzpatrick, lost in a world of bohemian mischief, seemed destined to never find his calling until he ended up under the tutelage of some of the finest trainers of the modern era. Even so, the Irishman is still best known for being unknown, and shouldering the blame for the slump in George Groves’ form during and after the Carl Froch rivalry. But here he explains everything to Declan Warrington, from his curious habits to his assertion that he will one day be recognised as one of the best trainers of them all
AMID the unmistakeable tension felt at Wembley Stadium in the moments before Carl Froch’s 2014 rematch with George Groves, the mysterious figure of Paddy Fitzpatrick remained relaxed, leaning back against the ring’s ropes as if sitting on a park bench in the sunshine.
To almost all of the 80,000 present he was the enigmatic Irishman who seemingly from nowhere had become Groves’ trainer and overseen perhaps the finest performance of his career in that controversial defeat just six months previous.
The response to that performance, their willingness to challenge the establishment, and the intrigue surrounding that second fight came with occasional, and often blurred, details surrounding Fitzpatrick’s past, yet without recognition of the well-travelled background that meant he was at least as immersed in boxing as any of those present.
If there were few aware of his schooling there were even fewer familiar with the deep-thinking, emotionally-intelligent head of Fitzpatrick’s Boxing Gym who from a distance could so easily be mistaken for the archetypal hippy. The polished Groves lost that rematch after Froch clinically took a brief opening; even if following the deterioration in their relationship and subsequent split he has become the WBA super-middleweight champion, the wider picture of the trainer’s career is no less remarkable, such is the individual path taken by the man in the hat.
“I left home at 15,” Fitzpatrick, whose Christian name is Gavin, told Boxing News from his home in Swindon. “I just always travelled: from the age of 12 I used to thumb my way around Ireland on my own. I’m not of travelling stock but I’ve always felt more comfortable moving.
“I lived just outside Limerick city. My old amateur club was St Francis; I started boxing, just had a mad passion for it, won a couple of Limerick titles, got a silver medal in the Munster championships, left home, and thought no more about boxing.
“I first came to Swindon at 16, and was on my way to London. My mum had a brother that lived here; that led to a job offer in a garage as an apprentice mechanic. Then I started taking things I shouldn’t; consumed myself with that for two years.
“I spent a year in Swindon before deciding on the cuff to go travelling, starting in Amsterdam. I travelled to Belgium, France, Spain, Crete, just to bum around. I also used to squat in London, and I used to do anything [to fund travelling]: sell t-shirts.
“There was plenty of times I’d be trying to find somewhere to sleep, and thinking ‘Why did I leave home? What the hell am I doing?’ But then day-break would crack...
“Things started going really wrong for me when I was 27. I wasn’t living the way I would be proud to live now; I had a door security firm [in Swindon] and it all went the way I didn’t want it to here. I got divorced from my first wife, and had to get out of my own head space.”
It was by that point that Fitzpatrick already appeared to have left any sort of future in boxing long behind. His five professional fights in the space of 13 months from November 1989, all of which ended in defeat, contributed much to the nomadic existence that followed, but it was a return to his travels, amid the breakdown of his marriage, that was to ultimately prove his making.
“I was no good, and got frustrated because I couldn’t figure out why,” the 47-year-old says. “I had two years of abusing myself with acid and all sorts. If I’d done it right I’d have gone amateur for a couple of years and got some confidence. Gavin’s my Christian name; Paddy’s my dad’s name. I’ve been Paddy since I left home out of respect for him.
“It wasn’t until I was working with James Toney that I realised [where I was going wrong]. I’d watch James come in [to Freddie Roach’s Wild Card Gym], and he’d still have the smell of cigar smoke on him, having
been in a gentleman’s club. He would spar 12, 15 [rounds], against three or four undefeated up-and-comers. He’d whoop every one of them, like it meant nothing. The composure: he was so at home. He was 242lbs. The penny dropped: ‘These guys are thinking about James; James is only thinking about James.’ I’d been in the changing room thinking about everything but me.
“I went to Jersey, Channel Islands, [after my divorce] when Steve Collins was getting ready to defend his title against [Nigel] Benn. I met Freddie Roach through Steve; [Collins and I] had a mutual friend, and I was training amateurs over there on the mitts.
“Freddie was watching me; said he enjoyed the way I did it. One day he said ‘Do you want to come back and work with me and my fighters?’ I became his assistant back in ‘97, so it’s been 20 years.”
Through working with the respected Roach, further opportunities came to Fitzpatrick to continue his admirable education under both Roger Mayweather and Buddy Mcgirt in Vegas and Florida, with fighters including Michael Moorer, Lamon Brewster and Laila Ali, before the birth of Dj, his third of four children but first from his marriage with Jamaican wife Kerry, prompted his eventual return to Swindon via a year in Berlin.
“I spent one year sleeping in the ring in the Wild Card,” Fitzpatrick explains. “I told me mum I’d got the biggest four-posted bed in Hollywood, just to put her mind at ease. For the second I got a place.
“I’m very spoilt. If it wasn’t for Freddie, I could still be working my way up. He very much made things happen.
“Roach taught me ‘Direction’s better than hype’. Roger was a mine of information, but he made sense to his nephew [Floyd Jnr], not necessarily to other people. Buddy was always ‘It’s never about the other dude; you can’t make him do what you want; he’s going to do what he wants, so you’ve got to adjust’.
“Me and Buddy used to sit down with a couple of [Mexican lagers] Modelo Negras every Friday, smoke a cigar, and just talk boxing for hours. I was also in camp with Manny [Steward] for three weeks up in the Poconos [mountains]; we’d talk every night.
“Roger was always ‘Go to the body’. People used to see him doing the mitts, but say how you could never do that with a heavyweight. Roger did it with everyone, even Hasim Rahman. And no matter what, he’d say ‘Go to the body’. That’s not being disrespectful, that’s just the way he is. All of them were the same [in their influence on me].”
Fitzpatrick had already met a then-amateur David Haye at the Fitzroy Lodge, before his permanent return to the UK, but even given the fighter’s promise, in the same way he could not have foreseen a trip to Jersey leading to a decade in the States, there was little indication of the developments that would eventually follow.
At a time when the Irishman was establishing his own gym, through Haye he met Adam Booth, who then was close to signing a talented amateur middleweight by the name of Groves. On the eve of announcing Groves-james Degale and Klitschko-haye, Booth asked Fitzpatrick – in so many ways his antithesis – his analysis of each, and after being told his emotional and tactical breakdown for the former, requested his expertise.
“That was it, brother; that’s where it started,” he said. The trainer’s influence on the defeat of Degale was followed by similar involvement in that of Glen Johnson, and eventually his becoming Groves’ trainer fulltime, shortly after it was announced he would fight Froch. “George had the vibe of being
lost, and believed what I said about the
I SPENT ONE YEAR SLEEPING IN THE WILD CARD RING. I TOLD ME MUM I HAD THE BIGGEST BED IN HOLLYWOOD”
game plan and what he should do.”
Since the conclusion of that association, his sole professional focus has again been the gym that stands where his garden should, where the strains of Bob Marley can consistently be heard, and where there is a sign by the entrance that reads: “Welcome to our compound. Please treat our women and children with respect. No bad language accepted in here.”
Fitzpatrick’s Boxing Gym has “Only two rules: no swearing, and everyone has to talk to each other”, and while the first at least may be an unfamiliar one within boxing circles, its rarity is surpassed by his business model for Trifecta.
His three most promising fighters, the athletic cruiserweight Luke “Duke” Watkins, the welterweight Ryan Martin and lightheavyweight Sam Smith, serve as the board of directors of the company for which he is chief executive and which next stages a local bill on September 29 featuring all eight of his professionals, three debutants among them.
“The idea was for these men to understand [the business],” said Fitzpatrick, who considers Watkins asking him to be his godfather his “proudest” moment. “To understand real quickly everything that’s involved, and therefore have more respect for the game, and be able to sit down with a promoter, and let them understand that they know the business too.
“They have a percentage of the show; the main promoter [and fellow shareholder Anil Karavadra] has the biggest and the rest is split between myself and the three fighters. They see the spreadsheets, the costs, everything. My role is to do all the work; I’m up until three or four in the morning watching fights. I didn’t want to promote because a promoter and manager have a conflict of interest.
“What I really want to achieve is something the same as Brendan Ingle. He’s done it all: is constantly a positive role in his community. He’s possibly the most successful trainer Britain’s had. How many others have taken guys from scratch to a world title? From scratch: that’s always been what I’ve wanted, and what I believe I’ll first achieve with “Duke”. I don’t see anything missing in him.” THE BREAK-UP
Fitzpatrick details his side of the split with George Groves...
“WHEN George is up against it, there is no better man. I loved him walking to the ring for the [Christopher] Rebrasse fight: he’d been going through depression, suffering inside, and he walked with the air of an undefeated man about him, bold as brass, the same as he did looking at Carl before the first [Froch] fight. That’s one of his strongest points.
“[But] the way he conducted himself [after our split]: he can have an opinion, but to tell lies... Me and [conditioner] Barry O’connell fell out for a while about it.
“I orchestrated the Carl rematch and appeal so he got more than 15 per cent; he wouldn’t have got nowhere near what he did without me. What got me was the fact that he never let up; he was relentless in his abuse. I’d had 10, 11 months of ridicule; people could have asked about the weather and he’d say ‘It’s Paddy’s fault’, so after the [Martin] Murray fight I sent him a text saying ‘George, I’ve had enough of your s**t. I haven’t let skeletons out of the closet; let it go.’ There isn’t any foundation whatsoever [to claims I was unprofessional in camp, or late to sessions]. I’ve been a coach for 19 years; no one’s ever said I’m unprofessional. I showed up in flipflops all the time: how is that unprofessional? I spent six months with Buddy Mcgirt in Florida; he was in flip-flops everyday. I’d walk to the gym with my flip-flops, put my boxing boots on, do the mitts, and get out.
“It’s kind of half-amusement, halfbewilderment, to hear them say ‘He’s got a great jab since being with Shane [Mcguigan].’ He got that from Adam [Booth], from Dale Youth, long before either of us.
“It was after the [Denis] Douglin fight [when our relationship began to deteriorate]. Up until that point we were great. He got back in the gym in January, because he could have been fighting the Badou Jack-anthony Dirrell winner in March. He said ‘I’ve been talking to [wife] Sophie; maybe you shouldn’t have given me 5/10 straight after the fight. I ended up saying it in an interview.’ It was uneasy, but it was okay, put to the side.
“We went to Big Bear to prepare and had his very best camp, setting personal bests, hurting every one of his sparring partners. [Shortly after Sophie came to camp] O’connell called me and said ‘I’m not happy about a few things.’ I said ‘Hold your breath, ‘cause if he loses that fight you’ll get the blame. The day after the fight, I’m done.’ There was enough for me to feel there was a difference. You can have fallouts, but there’s always an air of respect: that wasn’t there no more.
“When I got home, I sent him a text saying ‘We both know we’ve come to the end’. I advised him he should go with Abel Sanchez. Picking Shane: I don’t see that as a bad choice.
“But when he’s up against it? How many other men could lose to Carl twice, go and fight half-a-mile across the road from where he got knocked out, to deal with Rebrasse? He thrives under pressure, where most men would buckle.”
WHAT I REALLY WANT TO ACHIEVE IS SOMETHING THE SAME AS BRENDAN INGLE. HE’S DONE IT ALL”