EDITOR’S LETTER
James Degale always did his country proud
James Degale hangs up his gloves
FOR several days after James Degale announced his retirement last week, an unofficial game of ‘I Know James Degale Better Than You’ raged on social media. Photos and videos were shared, old stories re-posted – ‘just a little something I wrote about my good friend James Degale when we first met eight years ago’ – as fans, promoters, publicists, writers, photographers and broadcasters jostled for the position of chief mourner to one of their favourite careers. Of course, such contests are glowing testament to the boxer at the heart of them and Degale is no different; a fighter of immense talent inside the ropes and warm, funny and honest outside of them, James will be remembered fondly in British boxing history, and deservedly so.
But the outpouring of positivity for 33-year-old Degale at the end was absent at the beginning of his professional journey, despite the 2008 Olympic gold medal that preceded it. His debut in January 2009 was greeted with boos in Birmingham and so became a running theme for “Chunky”, once the ‘fat kid’ at school; he picked fun at the buffoons who screamed at him by unpicking his opponents with slickness and spite. But Degale had no desire to be the villain. “I was shocked by the negative reaction, I was feeling the strain of the publicity and there was a lot of pressure,” he said in February 2010.
In the same interview he spoke of his love for sparring and many now believe those famous gym wars and his thirst for a ruck shortened his career significantly. Others point to his hectic social life as another reason, but only Degale himself is in position to comment on that.
Even so, it’s easy to wonder if he should have achieved more after witnessing those early days. On one such occassion, when he sliced through the thick hostility inside Liverpool’s Echo Arena and destroyed Paul Smith to take the British super-middleweight title, it looked like he might be unstoppable.
Things changed when he lost a tighter than tight decision to bitter rival George Groves in 2011: He felt a sense of betrayal towards his promoter Frank Warren for signing his arch enemy in the aftermath and, though he believed he deserved the verdict, a layer of confidence was stripped from him as he struggled to come to terms with that loss. That he emerged from those wilderness years in 2015 with a world belt, won in America no less, was a reminder of his true worth.
Ultimately, Degale’s career was never likely to last much longer than it did. As far back as that impressive IBF titlewinning victory in Boston over Andre Dirrell there were clues about what lay ahead. His body, like most human bodies, was not designed to exchange punches for sustained periods. The injuries piled up, strains became breaks and his weaponry, once so smooth and fluent, was in a perpetual state of disrepair. Not only that, fighters who rely on fast hands and sharp reflexes generally have limited shelf lives; even Sugar Ray Leonard was only 34 when Terry Norris pummelled him all over the ring in 1991. But it’s worth noting what a courageous competitor Degale always was, particularly when things were slipping away from him at the end.
His list of achievements – the Olympic, British, European and two IBF titles – set a new standard for boxing in this country even if that pinnacle was reached so far away from home. The life-securing money on offer for those North American assignments, though, was richly deserved.
His heart-warming reaction to the cheers of the O2 crowd in 2015 when, as a spectator, he had to double and triple check that the adulation was his, said plenty about the character everyone now adores. But it was his relationship with the man who was sat by his side that night, the man who really knows James Degale better than you, that says the most.
Through the highs and lows, Degale stayed loyal to his trainer, repaying the faith and sacrifice in a way that so many fighters do not. “He believes in me and he’s said I will win the world title,” Degale said about Jim Mcdonnell in 2010. “He’s sometimes sad that he never won the world title. Well, I’m going to make sure he gets his world title through me.”