McGregor could learn a thing or two from this dignified hero
Unlike others, Lee has never hyped a fight… but this has hit his bottom line
Anyone who has heard Andy Lee’s thoughtful boxing analysis on radio or various podcasts with which he is affiliated has likely found themselves remarking that the former WBO middleweight champion seems like a lovely man. Indeed, some may have wondered how the same person could have spent the best part of two decades brutalising people for money.
Fighter, Lee’s new autobiography ghosted by Niall Kelly of the42.ie, bridges the gaps in our perception of the person and the pugilist, creating a memorable and complete portrait of an Irish sporting hero.
Kelly does a great job polishing the book into a narrative worthy of Lee’s experiences. No doubt, he is aided by the fact that boxing lends itself easily to literature. The studied artfulness of bloody violence is the dichotomy that makes the sport both so compelling and so ripe for the rhapsodising of skilled evangelists. Kelly does not fail in this regard.
Tracing his early days in the boxing clubs of London to Limerick City and, later, Detroit where he worked under the tutelage of legendary trainer Emanuel Stewart,
Fighter is an honest account of his journey, each moment woven with the Limerick man’s unsentimental love of the sport, and his devotion to honing his craft.
Discussing his ability to ruthlessly dispose of opponents, the man with a record of 24 knockouts says simply: ‘It’s not personal.’ It reads like a mantra. To his credit, Lee never followed other fighters down the rabbit hole of hyping a fight beyond what’s reasonably expected. Press conference handbags have become so much a part of the pageantry of a big fight that fighters are now going to extremes to attract attention. With promises to kill or inflict permanent brain injury on an opponent now flying back and forth with some regularity, many would accept that Lee’s refusal to shop his dignity, while honourable, has affected his bottom line. It is a surprise when he outlines his money worries during the two-year period in which he trains under Adam Booth, a former mentor to heavyweight champion David Haye. One can’t help but think of Conor McGregor breathlessly telling Khabib Nurmagomedov ‘it’s only business’ after the Dagestani taunted and pummelled the Dubliner at the end of the third round of their UFC event last month. Furious at comments made about his family and religion in the lead-up to the fight, Nurmagomedov could not reconcile himself with the idea that personal isn’t personal, that what’s said is said with the express aim of generating as much money as possible. Despite losing, McGregor’s earnings from the fight stretched into the tens of millions. It’s a measure of Lee’s self-possession that he did not feel the need to take the infinitely more lucrative option.
The most interesting stories in the book come from the low moments, the defeats. The ruthlessness of the fight game is exemplified in the aftermath of Lee’s loss to Brian Vera in 2008. The fighter is honest about the reasons for his defeat – ‘I didn’t train hard enough, and I underestimated him’ – but despite being undefeated up to that point, the loss still poses an existential threat to his career. With the victory spell now broken, even his trainer and mentor, Emanuel Stewart, takes a step back.
When he loses to Julio Cesar Chavez Jr in Sun Stadium in San Antonio, Lee is honest about the prospect of living the rest of his life as a man of enough celebrity to never be allowed peacefully embark on another career. ‘Even if I packed it in tomorrow, walked away and quit, I can’t go and work. If you do that, you’re admitting defeat … You have to be prepared for the whole world to see you through that lens, the failed boxer … You have to be ready to live with that regret forever.’
With these defeats as a backdrop, Fightercaptures the immensity of Lee’s achievement. Professional boxing seems like a tight-rope walk if the walker is also asked to mind the intricacies of promoters, feuds, lies, claims and counterclaims. Even one stumble can prove fatal to a career, two or three and you no longer exist in the professional sphere.
Fighter is in some ways the more ordinary of extraordinary Irish sporting stories. Not a story about addiction, abuse or scandal, what few dark moments there are have a relatable honesty. Fighter is the story of a man in the midst of his struggle, earnestly perfecting his trade and finding validation in a place very few people can even get to – fighting for the world middleweight championship. In a world too often hooked on tales of greed and tragedy, a book such as this is worthy of applause.