JAMES BRANCH
A worried Ian Probert exchanges jabs with James Branch regarding the potential pitfalls of fighting a fellow southpaw
Part 10 of The Prizefighter Chronicles – the southpaw versus southpaw clash
SOME PEOPLE GET PANICKY AS SOON AS THEY SEE THEY ARE FIGHTING A SOUTHPAW BUT I’LL FIGHT EITHER”
IT’S 48 hours before James Branch is due to step into the ring with a Hungarian journeyman by the name of Istvan Janos Orsos and, as is my want, I’m solidly entrenched in worry mode. Those of you who have managed to cast an eye over the regular column that James and I put together for Boxing News will know that I’ve been following the progress of the talented young cruiserweight for over a year now. As such we speak regularly. Exchange Xmas gifts. Laugh a little too much in what is supposed to be a professional relationship.
As a result bonds have inevitably been formed. Which is why my inner alarm bells suddenly start to furiously clatter when James – a lefty himself – casually informs me that he’s about to encounter the first southpaw of his sixfight professional career: “What have you done differently in training in preparing for this fight?” I cough.
“I’ve done quite a lot of sparring,” says James. “I’ve been sparring a German Olympian.” “Was he a southpaw?” “No he was orthodox,” says James. “I only found out after I’d finished sparring him that I’d got a southpaw in my next fight.”
“Hmmm,” comes my worried response.
“When an orthodox fights an orthodox it’s looked on as the norm,” James elaborates, apparently without a care in the world. “But when a southpaw fights a southpaw, really it’s the same.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” I say, from my less than rigid position of self-appointed non-boxing armchair expert.
“Of course it is,” insists the young boxer. “It’s the same fight – just the other way around.”
“No, it’s not,” I splutter. “What you do is surely all about muscle memory. You stand there in training and you throw thousands of the same punch so that when it comes to the fight you don’t have to think about it. It’s all completely instinctive, isn’t it? Because if you do have to think about throwing a punch it would slow you down that fraction of a second and you’re more likely to get caught.”
“That’s not the point I was making,” replies James. “People are used to seeing an orthodox fight an orthodox. But when a southpaw fights a southpaw – what is the difference? You’ve got to have the knowhow to deal with the problem. Some boxers get into a complete scramble and start overthinking things.”
“But surely punches come at you from unusual angles?”
“Yes they do come at you from angles that you’re not used to. But at the end of the day the punches are still being aimed at you.”
“Because southpaws are also trained to fight orthodox boxers,” I continue, slowing down my words in an effort to project an aura of timeless wisdom. “They’re not generally trained to fight other southpaws. This surely makes them more dangerous – have you fought many southpaws before?”
“In the amateurs, yes. The difference between fighting southpaws and orthodoxes is obviously a lot of punches and adjustments are made from slightly different angles. Some people get panicky as soon as they see that they are fighting a southpaw. But I’ll fight either. It doesn’t matter to me.
“The last southpaw I boxed was the German number one. I went and boxed him in his hometown. I remember he was their captain and I’ll be honest, everyone thought I was gonna get beat that day. He was a good fighter – he got to the quarter-finals of the World championships. Funnily enough that fight was the only fight I’ve ever had when dad didn’t come to see me fight.
“When I boxed him I remember thinking to myself that I’d overthought the southpaw thing – does that make sense? Because it wasn’t that bad at all.” “Has that always been the case?” “I’ve boxed a couple of southpaws. I won my first national title against one of them. He got disqualified actually,” James laughs. “So from personal experience – touch wood – everything’s always been good against southpaws.”
“So for this fight have you studied your opponent at all?”
“Not really,” shrugs James, “My dad always has a look at them. You’ve just got to slightly adjust your movement because an orthodoxy’s backhand becomes their jab.” “Their jab is a hook and their hook is a jab.” “That’s what I mean. It’s mad isn’t it? So that’s about it really. You just have to get used to them being the other way around.”
“Well I hope you’re right,” I sigh. “There’s a lot of boxers out there who have come unstuck against southpaws.”
As is happens my Nostradamus-like predictions of doom – as is habitually the case – turns out to be unfounded. Two nights later at the Copper Box James Branch routinely dismantles his vastly overmatched opponent with embarrassing ease.
“Just smashed some fella to bits, 4th round KO,” a pithy James Branch will later announce on social media. “On top of the world right now!”
Instead of Christmas pud I find myself nibbling humble pie. How could I ever have have ever been worried that a man with 53 defeats on his record could ever have posed a problem? What exactly was going through my head? But such is boxing.
In a follow-up telephone call a day or so later
James is still in celebratory mood. Non-ordeal over, his mind is now fully focused upon the upcoming Christmas festivities: “I’m gonna try this Christmas not to put on as much weight,” he laughs. “I’d like to say that I’m gonna keep training too.” There is a yelp of ironic laughter in the background from, one assumes, James Branch Snr. “Over Christmas the whole family are staying in a hotel in Canary Wharf.”
“And how do you see next year?” I ask. “Because the opposition is obviously going to get harder now. If you had a Christmas list what would be on it?”
“A title. I’m not gonna talk about what title because there are different paths, different options open to me,” says James, seamlessly slipping into standard boxing third-person speak. “But I’d like to hope we’d be looking at a title.”