Rolling with the punches
As the popularity of white-collar boxing soars, its lack of regulation is coming under scrutiny. James Fisher sets out to discover if the reward is worth the risk
As the popularity of white-collar boxing soars, its lack of regulation is coming under scrutiny. James Fisher sets out to discover if the reward is worth the risk
EIGHTEEN days after his first white-collar boxing match, Adam Smith had a severe headache. He’d lost the fight on points, which was unsurprising, as he was a complete novice matched up against a far more experienced opponent—a fact he wasn’t aware of at the time. Nineteen days after the fight, Adam suffered the first of two strokes, caused by a split artery in his neck. He was paralysed and lost his vision on his right-hand side, although he has now regained both his sight and the use of his limbs.
It’s as regulated as a fight in the streets outside a chip shop
Speaking to the Daily Mirror, Adam said that he ‘thought nothing bad would happen. I thought I would get a black eye or something’. He was unaware that his opponent had been practising mixed martial arts and boxing for seven years. Adam had trained for eight weeks.
Ben Sandiford didn’t have to wait 18 days. He collapsed almost immediately after his fight, suffering a bleed on the brain that was swiftly followed by two heart attacks. After being hit in the head in the first and third rounds, Ben fell to the canvas and was looked over by medics, who decided that he didn’t require hospital treatment. Had his family not rushed him to A&E, he would probably have died. He had trained for 16 hours.
It’s hard not to be seduced by white-collar boxing. The events are huge, with scantily
I saw the blood on the canvas and then I looked up and thought: “Let’s go”
clad ring girls parading around, drinks flowing, loud music and bright lights. Those taking part are the centre of attention, with their friends and family howling them on as they engage in a primal sport that has been around as long as Man has been walking upright.
Ben Gedye has fought in two events and is as enthusiastic as anyone. ‘That first fight was genuinely the most exhilarating moment of my life. In terms of a rush, it was better than a bungee jump. Your friends are there, your family is there, everyone has turned up to watch you and I just felt so important,’ he explains. ‘When that bell went, I remember time slowing down as the adrenaline hit me. It was elating, I was fully focused, I saw the blood on the canvas and then I looked up and thought: “Let’s go.”’
The sport began in New York City in the 1980s and grew in popularity rapidly, before skipping across the Atlantic and taking root in the UK. Whether it’s bankers from the City or students at universities up and down the country, the sport has boomed in the past decade. Ultra White Collar Boxing, which is the biggest promoter of the sport in the UK, estimates that 20,000 people take part in its events each year. The bouts are usually scored on points over three rounds, consisting of two minutes each, with both fighters wearing 16oz gloves and protective headgear. Ultra White Collar Boxing claims it has raised more than £18 million for charity during its existence. In short, white collar is big business.
However, unlike professional boxing (see Anthony Joshua) and amateur boxing (see Anthony Joshua in 2012), white-collar boxing is unregulated. ‘In the end, there’s no difference between the unlicensed boxing you might see in the East End of London and white collar. It’s as regulated as a fight in the streets outside a chip shop.’ So says Dave Mifsud, a promoter who began putting on white-collar events back in 2011. ‘There’s no governing body, nobody you can go to and ask: “Are these paramedics up to scratch? Is there a specific way I need to wrap the gloves like in professional boxing?” If I wanted to, I could put someone who has had no training against someone who’s been in the gym for a year. I’m allowed to do that, but it would be dangerous to do so.’
Dave says there are whispers that a governing body is being set up, but only because, in his words, ‘amateur boxing is dead’. The amateurs are boxers looking to go and compete at the Olympics, with a view towards turning professional. As a result, there isn’t much money in the sport, certainly when compared with white-collar fighting. ‘Anyone with a brain has worked out that’s where the money is,’ says Dave. ‘I even know some professional promoters who have given up and gone back to white-collar boxing because they weren’t making as much money.’
‘If you can hire a venue, set up a bar, sell tickets at £30 a pop—which is easy in the City—and set up 10 fights, that’s 20 people, bringing 20 of their friends each. Four hundred people paying £30 a ticket, that’s £12,000 from one night’s work.’ That’s a pessimistic calculation, he says, as he has put on nights with 800–900 people turning up. ‘That’s why it’s so popular from a promoter’s standpoint. In the pro game and the amateur game, you have to pay the trainers, the governing body and the fighters. It’s common sense really.’
Unsurprisingly, where there is money to be made, so exists the temptation to cut corners. Where the danger comes, warns Dave, is when fighters are mismatched. ‘I’ve had people say that, in their previous fights elsewhere, they were fighting people who were 10kg heavier than they were. That’s ridiculous, it’s almost two stone in size difference. That’s where accidents happen, but it’s so lucrative that people bend the rules,’ he reflects, before adding: ‘Or they would be, if there were any rules.’
Another issue is people dropping out at the last minute. Promoters know that
It changed my life. I eat properly, train properly, live properly
fighters have sold tickets to their friends and, rather than refund them, the temptation is to either enlist an experienced ringer or, in some cases, pay other fighters to box twice on the same evening. ‘It’s commonplace, unfortunately,’ says Dave. ‘These promoters won’t have seen these guys fight before, so they have no idea if they can fight, let alone if they have the same ability.’
However, as Ben admits, it’s not really in the promoters’ interests to have fighters getting laid out in the middle of the ring— the industry depends on people volunteering to fight. ‘If you sit there and watch people getting knocked out and injured, if you see blood getting spilled all over the ring, you’re not exactly going to rush up and say “where do I sign?”, are you?’
Since Dave’s been putting on fights, he’s seen the popularity soar. From fights above pubs in the East End against the local hardman, it’s now Deloitte versus Goldman Sachs. It’s become almost part of corporate life, but for fighters who know the risks, why is it so popular? ‘It’s a break from the routine. You sign up to do it and you can raise money for charity, but the main draw is the physical challenge,’ says Dave. ‘I’ve had people say: “It changed my life. I eat properly now, I train properly, I live properly.” Tie that in with the popularity of fitness in general, whether it’s triathlons,
Tough Mudders, whatever, and you can see why more and more people are signing up.’
Ben agrees, saying that what tempted him more than anything was fitness. ‘There might be a case of “City boys who think they’re hard”, but mostly, it’s the fitness. I’ve done marathons and an Iron Man, but I was never in better shape than when I was getting ready to fight.’
It was in 2009 that Ben first heard of white-collar boxing. ‘I read an article that said it was basically like Fight Club for City guys, which I thought was interesting. When I first signed up, a colleague and I went to a gym in Shadwell after work in our suits and ties. The boys in there looked at us like “who the hell are these idiots”, but then they said “right, get your kit off, pop these gloves on and let’s see what you can do”.’ Ben admits that it gave him a lot of confidence. ‘You’re asking yourself: “Can I do it? It’s not a spreadsheet.” Sitting around in an office all day is unnatural, but working out in a gym, practising your fighting, there’s something primordial about it. It makes you believe in yourself.’
In a sport as physical as boxing, it would be absurd to assume there are never going to be injuries. Even in professional and amateur boxing, where there is regulation, there are deaths—three this year at time of writing. As Ben politely reminds me: ‘It’s fighting. You’re not playing around, you can’t just stop.’
The lack of regulation hasn’t gone unnoticed and, as more people take part and injuries increase, so, too, will scrutiny. Dave assures me that he and most of the other promoters he knows take the utmost due care, but admits that there are those who see short-term profit before welfare. ‘Does it need regulating? I don’t know,’ he wonders. ‘I don’t need it, but other people do, which I guess is the point of regulation.’
Ben says he’d recommend it to anyone, whether they’re a fitness freak or just want to step out of their comfort zone and the grind of daily life. ‘If it’s done carefully, with the right people organising, then it’s a brilliant thing to do,’ he confirms. The question, it seems, is whether the reward is worth the risk. For Kyle Devlin, the answer is yes. After trying and failing to take his own life at the beginning of this year, he turned his attention to white-collar boxing. Speaking to the Sunderland Echo, he said: ‘It gave me something to focus on and get my life back on track.’