THE QUIET ONES
The secret to promoting boxers who don’t want to be the centre of attention
DUBOIS DOES HIS TALKING IN THE RING BUT IT’S NOT JUST TALKING, IT’S SHOUTING. HE DOES THE BUSINESS”
IT’S not often you see the young heavyweight on the left-hand side of the poster, the one with the unbeaten record, ignored during a press conference in favour of his opponent, the one with all the defeats. But in this case, it’s true, and it’s true because the opponent, despite five losses on his ledger, is the one with the chat, the gift of the gab, and the ability to deliver soundbites of importance – and length – when required.
For ten or fifteen minutes, the prospect, the one of whom great things are expected, says nothing. He simply stares ahead. Occasionally, he blinks. When a joke is cracked, he smiles, but it comes a beat or two behind everyone else. His mind is elsewhere, perhaps. Or perhaps it’s right there in the room, only young and not yet fully developed. He’s just 20, after all. Maybe, for now, this is all there is to him. This and seven knockouts from seven fights and a six-foot-five and 17-stone frame.
But you’re captivated all the same. You’re captivated by the brooding silence and the simplicity of his movements and answers. He’s withdrawn. He’s enigmatic. In a time of mass overexposure, it’s both unusual and refreshing.
“I like Daniel,” said Daniel Dubois’ promoter Frank Warren. “I think he’s a very cool, calm and collected young man and he does all his talking in the ring. In fact, when he’s in the ring, it’s not talking, it’s shouting. He does the business every time.”
It’s true. For as long as he’s undefeated, and for as long as he can be sold as the heavy-handed heir apparent, the shy Daniel Dubois doesn’t have to be the centre of attention at press conferences, much less tell the world how good he is. Instead, with knockouts and hype creating some mystique, Dubois can go about his work on his own terms, in the ring, and be judged on his productivity in that domain as opposed to what he provides during moments like this. Dubois knows it as well. It’s why there’s little effort on his part. It’s why a press conference, to him, is viewed as a contractual obligation rather than a chance to enhance his profile, shift some tickets, or secure a few more subscriptions. At 20, at 7-0, such concerns, the worries of the elder statesman, are absent from Dubois’ mind. Right now, he sees only exposed flesh, startled faces and knockouts. As a demeanour, it kind of works, too. Why else would I find myself focusing less on Tom Little’s witty anecdotes and more on Dubois and his stillness? “I just let him be himself,” said Warren. “You shouldn’t try and change these guys. Anthony Joshua is a quiet guy. Joe Calzaghe wasn’t a shouter. I don’t like them being something they’re not. Be who you are. The public aren’t fools. They’ll sense you aren’t being genuine and sniff you out. “It’s all a process with Daniel. He does what he has to do in the ring and the public like him. He always gets a big cheer. Thankfully, Tom fancies the job and he’s saying all the right things.” There’s room for both. Sometimes, you need both. In the short term, the straight guy needs the joker and the promoter needs the joker – the one who performs, the one who sells – just as much as he needs the straight guy who can fight in the long-term. It’s all a partnership at this stage and men like Warren and Little are only too aware that fighters blessed with the ability to carry a press conference and push a promotion are few and far between.
YOU SEE OKOLIE ON TV AND SAY, ‘THERE’S THAT KID WHO WEARS SILLY SHIRTS AND USED TO WORK AT MCDONALD’S’”
Indeed, most boxers had no idea that selling themselves – addressing the media, the public, creating hype – was a prerequisite of success in a sport they started in a vest and headguard. It wasn’t taught on the same day as skipping or shadowboxing. It was, they later discover, a secret left untold.
Now, though, because boxers have a newfound power – thanks, in part, to the rise of social media – it’s more important than ever. Moreover, the increasing greed of promoters and television networks has marginalised the sport to such an extent that it has become vital to stand out from the crowd.
Historically, you can do this in two ways. You can either be brilliant, a show-stealer, someone whose ability and achievements are tough to ignore. Or, if not up to scratch where it used to count, you can be a character – real or otherwise.
“I always say to them, ‘What is your story?’” explained promoter Eddie Hearn. “I say, ‘Tell me a story. What did you do growing up? Have you ever had a bad injury? Have you ever been to prison?’ You’ve got to find something.
“Lawrence Okolie is a good example. He was a fat kid, right? He worked in Mcdonald’s in Waterloo and the Olympics was on and he watched Usain Bolt and then flicked over and saw Anthony Joshua winning gold. He looked at Joshua and said, ‘F**king hell, I could do that.’
“So he started boxing. Four years later he’s in Rio (at the 2016 Olympics), he’s a European champion, he’s in the World Series of Boxing and now he’s a pro. That’s the story. He’s also part of this group of mates called the ‘Penny Boys’. Now, as a fan, you’re on that journey. You see him on TV and say, ‘There’s that kid who wears silly shirts and used to work in Mcdonald’s.’ He then has you.”
Plenty of good fighters come and go unnoticed. Even some of the great ones perhaps don’t receive the credit or wealth they deserve as a result of their low-key personality or inability to project. Terence Crawford, for example, is arguably the most gifted boxer to emerge from America in some time, yet, while a hit in his native Nebraska, could well be an offspring of Randy to the rest of the country. He hardly talks, let alone shouts. He’s an exquisite mime artist, one attempting to scene-steal in a 3D blockbuster.
“People forget what I did because they listen to fighters who talk a lot rather than someone who is quiet and likes to keep away from it all,” said the always-exciting former WBO cruiserweight champion Carl Thompson. “They want to listen to the controversial fighters and it becomes a bit of a joke. Don’t get me wrong, it’s great that fighters promote themselves and hype up fights, but just remember those who don’t do that, too. I’m not naturally outspoken. I wasn’t going to change, because that would be phoney, but if I knew that from the beginning, I would have opened my mouth more. “I just don’t understand why you should have to disrespect other hard-working boxers to make more money, or for people to listen to you. The sport is hard enough as it is without all the boxers disrespecting each other.”
Show this Thompson testimony to any boxer today and it might serve as a cautionary tale. It might constitute a lesson and act as the necessary motivation to get loose-lipped and maximise potential. But then you realise some boxers, no matter how many times they’re told, simply aren’t built that way.
“Sometimes in boxing if your face doesn’t fit, you can’t do much about it,” said Terry Flanagan, who goes for
I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU SHOULD HAVE TO DISRESPECT OTHER BOXERS TO MAKE MONEY”
his second world title this weekend. “I’m the first ever English lightweight world champion and they’d make a big deal of it if it was someone else. But because I’m not the best talker, don’t call people out, and don’t put myself out there as much as I should, I don’t think many people like me.
“I need to boost my profile a bit, put myself out there, and be more sociable. I am really antisocial. People come up to me and ask me for pictures and they might think I’m a bit moody. It’s just the way I am. People think I’m ignorant but I’m not.”
Flanagan’s just shy, painfully so. He doesn’t come alive when forced in front of a camera nor when at the mercy of a reporter’s Dictaphone. But he can fight. And he keeps winning.
The same goes for Callum Smith, arguably Britain’s most talented supermiddleweight, who will soon take his place in the World Boxing Super Series final alongside George Groves, a rival with a natural gift for monologues, putdowns and storylines. Smith, in contrast, just fights.
“All that stuff is a promoter’s job,” said Hearn, Smith’s promoter. “Callum is going to be one of the top fighters in the world one day, but he ain’t going to drive Ferraris or be pictured in clubs swigging champagne. I have to do the job for him. I have to get his name out there. It’s our job to promote them and spread the word. They’ve just got to keep winning. If they keep winning on the platform, on Sky, and let the broadcaster get behind them, there’s no reason why they can’t become household names.”
Often a rivalry is all it takes to ignite something. It might, for instance, bring one or both boxers out of their shell, thus revealing hidden layers, or it might simply help to flog something – a fight, an event – neither would have been capable of doing on their own.
For Daniel Dubois, a heavyweight with ample time to grow, this rivalry could arrive in the shape of Joe Joyce, the 2016 Olympic silver medallist, another Londoner whose monosyllabic performances on the microphone are considered less impressive than his form in the ring. “He’s not a natural in front of the camera,” said David Haye, Joyce’s promoter. “He won’t start screaming or shouting or singing and dancing when the camera’s on. But he’s definitely relaxing more now. You’re starting to see more of his true personality come through. That’s nice to see. “Fortunately, he has been able to do his talking in the ring. He says to me, ‘Just book the fights and I’ll get in there and do the job.’ That makes it very easy for a promoter. “In fact, Joe’s one of the few people in the UK who doesn’t need to do his talking with his mouth. It’s the same with [Vasyl] Lomachenko. He doesn’t need to talk. Does he speak English? I don’t know. It’s not important. “The important thing is he performs on the night, always looks amazing, and is willing to get in there with anyone. “Joe and Lomachenko obviously have very different styles, but I see him in that same vein. In terms of mindset and boxing ethos, they’re very similar. Joe’s a giant version of Lomachenko – less slick but more of a juggernaut. They just get in the ring and do the business. Also, I’ve never heard Felix Trinidad say a word. Some of my all-time favourite fighters I’ve never heard say a word. But I still watched and admired them.” There would be few sights more uncomfortable than a potential Daniel Dubois and Joe Joyce press conference. The world’s worst first date, it would be a study in brevity, awkward pauses and pensive silence, and the press would be welladvised to leave their pads, pens, questions and brains at home. Or maybe swerve it altogether. But, equally, you’d cancel any plans in order to watch the pair communicate – with punches, not words – in a boxing ring.
PEOPLE THINK I’M IGNORANT BUT I’M NOT. I AM ANTISOCIAL”