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Deontay Wilder explains and demonstrates how challenging he hits

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In 2013, Deontay Wilder told me that he was composed only of muscles, bones and skin. He then showed me the tip of his whip.

Less sinister and sexual than you might think, and completely unrelated to cars, the whip in question was the technique behind the punch responsible for the 100 percent knockout rate, and the tip, according to its owner, was the part of that punch that elevated it above others.

“Come back,” Wilder said, taking an orthodox stance next to the hefty bag as if he were about to set off a firework. “To watch.”

He then raised his right hand, blocked and weighted, and delivered the blow with a punch; for most it’s a cross, for him it’s a cannonball.

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In a somehow almost comical manner, Wilder made all the necessary noises before looking my way as his right hand left a mark on the bag. “At home we refer to my punches as a whip,” said the then-27-year-old heavyweight from Alabama. “And the most painful part of the whip is the tip. This is where I do my damage, right at the end of my punches. The tip of the whip.

Standing nearby at that moment was Frank Joseph, the boxing agent who had previously held Wilder’s pads and was now lamenting his sudden inability to hold a plastic coffee cup. While waiting for his trembling hands to composed down, he could hear Joseph tapping out his support to the repeated rhythm of Wilder abusing the hefty bag. “You can tell how challenging he hits by looking at my fucking hands,” he groaned at one point, offering both of them for inspection. “Any time you’re holding pads for someone who’s kicking, you’re going to feel it later. But I’ve never had cocktails this full before. His power is terrifying.”

Additional evidence included coffee stains on the floor. This, combined with the dimples on the bag, told its own story.

“My power is completely natural,” Wilder stopped punching the bag. “I’m not really trying to knock guys out. I’ve just always been able to hit challenging and I’ve always been sturdy.

“Even when I was a 185-pound (American) football player, I lifted as much as the biggest players on the team. Here I was, this little skinny guy, doing everything the bigger guys did. Nobody could believe it.”

Deontay Wilder before Saturday’s fight with Zhilei Zhang (Mark Robinson Matchroom Boxing)

On both that day and that month, Wilder, brought in to spar with David Haye before his ill-fated 2013 fight with Tyson Fury, was intent on doing as he pleased. He hit things; he bragged about this place; he preached; he shouted; it illuminated otherwise gloomy rooms. Moreover, his punching power, once the Loch Ness Monster of boxing, now, with 29 consecutive knockouts, carried with it an authenticity that enabled him to showcase his skills in a London gym without fear of anyone criticizing his technique and ridiculing him for beating him. softly objecting or just telling him to stop banging on the bag and making so much noise: “BOMB SQUAD!”

It wasn’t always like this, remember.

In fact, two years earlier, when Wilder first arrived in London to spar with Haye ahead of the Englishman’s fight against Wladimir Klitschko, the 6-foot-8 puncher never imagined he would be playing in the same gym, teaching , preach and talk about tips and tricks. whips and dance between sparring rounds like at a family barbecue. No, this Wilder, then 25, was a completely different proposition. Raw and largely unsure of himself, he had the athleticism of a basketball player, but was still wondering how to translate that athleticism from the hardwood to the canvas. He was irregular. He was excitable. He was reckless. He kept Haye on his toes without stepping on them or lifting him off them.

Meanwhile, outside the ring he was nice, businesslike and well-mannered. He was grateful for the opportunity. He was unknown, approached only for his size and amateur achievements (an Olympic bronze medal in 2008 was no compact feat), so he behaved accordingly, traveling without restraint or grace, and agreeing to Haye’s every request, respecting the fact that it was his gym and his city. In other words, he was a delight.

In 2013, however, he was different. Still a delight, the difference was now you heard him before you saw him. There was a “BOMB SQUAD!” on every corner – a brave and unsafe mantra these days – and Wilder, once a student, this time arrived not as a sparring partner, but as someone who wants to show how much he has improved and, by extension, show everyone why soon became the next American heavyweight world champion.

Moreover, whenever Wilder sparred, which he did regularly this summer, he sparred like no other heavyweight I have ever seen. Completely relaxed, with veins of ice, he nonchalantly made his way through the rounds with Haye, Mariusz Wach and Filip Hrgovic, as if the only consequence of a wrong step was a scrape in the knee. Unlike other heavyweights, he went into a frenzy, screaming and screaming during the rounds, throwing punches, and was forever loose. He began to provoke each of his sparring partners, asking for more, and even tried to inspire and motivate them if he sensed them weakening, almost resentful of their sluggishness. “Come on, master, let’s go!” he muttered through his rubber cover. “This is the Master’s camp!”

Deontay Wilder

Deontay Wilder (Mikey Williams/top position)

Wilder made such an impression for the second time that it would be tough to find faults and mistakes, if only to restore balance. For example, when Haye landed a stiff right hand, or when Wach stood up in the grill, put his chin to his chest and hooked Wilder against the ropes, you would take heart. At this point, your eyes would turn away from the American’s arms and what he had done with them and instead focus on his legs, those spindly stilts supporting his 225-pound body, and you would wonder how many rounds he could last in the fight. a kickboxing competition, or rather a boxing match if someone punched him in the jaw. You would interpret legs smaller than yours as a sign that he is fallible, human.

“I always say, ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover,’” Wilder explained when it was later put to him. “I know my legs look skinny, but they’re just muscles. I only have muscles, bones and skin. Think of someone like Thomas Hearns. This guy never had the biggest legs in the world, but boy, could he pack a punch.

Without being able to argue, you’d come back to his competitiveness, or lack thereof, to the overarching thought: fight someone decent, and Wilder could suddenly be nervous and unsure. Maybe he’ll even go far.

“Style makes fights,” he said. “But so far in my career I have canceled out every style I have faced by hitting too challenging. When you get hit by my shots, the style disappears, man. Someone like (Sergey) Liakhovich may have looked proficient and solid against other players, but he hasn’t tasted power like mine. And you saw what happened to him.

We did.

But if, like Liakhovich, it is worth recalling, what happened to the Belarusian was that he disappeared in just 104 seconds, curled up in a fetal position after taking a sample from one right hand. Further proof of Wilder’s power comes ten years after his trip to London what happened to Bermane Stiverne, Artur Szpilka, Gerald Washington, Johann Duhaupas, Luis Ortiz (twice), Dominic Breazeale and Robert Helenius after being struck at the tip of Wilder’s whip.

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Pushing Forward: Athlete Abdullah Mason Could Be America’s Next Boxing Star

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IN Abdullah Masonin his hometown of Cleveland, Ohio, the Art Museum presents a painting that has become one of the world’s most eminent depictions of noble art. ‘Stag At Sharkey’s’ may be 115 years senior, but in its lightning-quick blur of sweat and sinew, George Bellows perfectly captures the drama, suspense and thrill of watching a warrior pursue his extraordinary profession.

Swift forward to 2024, and the city is once again delighted with the exemplary skills of a local fighter, a adolescent Southerner who many are touting as the sport’s top prospect. For Mason himself, developing these natural talents became an obsession.

“It’s never over,” says Mason (13-0, 11 KO) “When you’re in competitive sports, there’s always someone coming after you or someone coming after you. You want to make sure that you’re always going to be perfect and you’re going to be better. So I hope to do the good things that I do better. I’ll continue to work on doing them better. And whatever else I have to criticize, I’ll work on criticizing. So I just keep moving forward.”

A key element of Mason’s early success in the sport is his exceptionally robust bond with his father and trainer, Valiant Mason, and his five siblings, four of whom followed in Abdullah’s footsteps as boxers. In a city plagued by violent crime, the family found focus and inspiration in the sport, forming a close bond that seemed impenetrable to negative influences.

“Cleveland is a really tough environment, but you have to be in the right places and around the right people. My father was always around the right people. He kept us away from the typical things that go on in Cleveland. He kept us with the right people, everyone who actually had something.

“So growing up, he had a perfume store where we sold all kinds of body products and he told us to run out of there. When we started boxing, we ran products out of the store to navigate the boxing world and to various tournaments.”

Fighting was ingrained in the heart of the Mason family’s upbringing. Their ever-protective father divided his nest into two groups, introducing the eldest three to karate, taekwondo and jujitsu and encouraging them to teach their younger siblings what they had learned. However, after the family moved abroad for a while, it was Abdullah who first tried boxing.

“We moved abroad to Yemen and Egypt a while back,” Mason recalls, when he was just 20. “When we came back, there was a boxing gym right around the corner from where we lived. Our dad would ask everyone, ‘Who wants to come to the gym and start training, fighting, boxing?’ I was the first one to really get interested.

“I started out this way and my brothers came right after me. But when I started really getting into the ring and started sparring, that’s when I realized. Then I thought, “OK, this is something I really want to do.” At that time it was just fun. I just wanted to be there because I know that’s what I want to do. But when my brothers got into it, I really started getting stern. I say, “Okay, this will be my thing.” I will take over boxing.”

Of course, for some families, the ongoing complexity of sibling rivalry combined with teenage angst can prove to be a major obstacle to ambitious plans. However, the bonds the Mason brothers have forged have only served to sharpen their skills and strengthen their competitive confidence. It’s a relationship that Abdullah is rightly both incredibly proud of and fiercely protective of.

“I would say we are more supportive than competitive. Of course, we are competitive, as five guys in the same environment, growing up in the same house. We will naturally compete. But it is not a negative competition. It is like motivating each other to be better. Definitely supportive, we are super supportive. If one brother is lacking in some area, not just in boxing, we always like to motivate that person, that brother, to be better,” he says.

“We have many of the same good qualities, but as warriors we have different personalities as brothers. But these are our styles. So we all have the same good similarities but a different personality, you know what I mean? So one person might be more offensive, or another might box more, or punch harder, or something like that. So we all definitely have similar styles, but with our differences.”

Mason is keenly aware of boxing’s affluent history of fathers training their fighting sons, but their partnership, he says, has its own unique animated. The undefeated lightweight sees his own progress as part of a family project, with his brothers offering just as much insight and advice as the man who commands his son’s corner.

“They see a lot of things that other people don’t see, I would say. I pick up on that, apply it, and apply it well,” he says.

“It’s amazing to have that family animated and have brothers in your corner, have a father in your corner. It’s a business and you don’t take anything personally. You go in there, you listen to everything they say because that’s what’s best for you in the ring.

“His [his father] being a coach who actually sees things that can’t be seen from the outside, but at the same time he is my father. So it’s definitely more comfortable having my father and brothers in my corner. It just gives me an extra kick. I can settle in a little better because I know they’re there. They will tell me what they see. And I will trust them completely.”

It’s a testament to the work Mason’s team has put in behind the scenes that each victory so far has resulted in an impressive set of knockouts. The result was an avalanche of praise, with many predicting he would dominate the lightweight division in the coming years.

However, the competition in this particular weight class, even among potential fighters, is already looking very heated, and among the undefeated, promising fighters are such as Andy Cruz, Keyshawn Davis and Emiliano Vargas are competing to become the next massive thing at 135 pounds. Although Mason appreciates his natural strength, he is looking forward to showing off the full range of his fighting skills.

“It just flips on like a switch when I want to start sitting on my punches and reverse punches. But when I’m in the gym, I see a lot of things and do a lot of things that I would turn into something in a fight. In the fight, you see me give that one punch that will knock them out.

“But in sparring I would put together combinations, move differently, step differently, move smartly. I would just work on different things,” he says.

“But as I fight, you’ll see those things come together a little more. Once I start fighting those longer fights, those rounds against tough opponents, I feel like more of them will come out and eventually people will start to see more of my arsenal and more of my true style. Of course I have the power, as you can see from my previous performances, but I can do much more.”

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Tyson Fury says the fight with Oleksandr Usyk was too uncomplicated

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THE MISTAKE that people make when judging Tyson Fury based on his comments – whether they are about Oleksandr Usyk or anything else – is that they try to view those comments as those of a rational, clear-headed man. This means that they do not see them as the thoughts of a professional boxer for whom every hour is a chance to lie, but as the thoughts of someone they may know, like or relate to at least a little.

The truth is that Tyson Fury and his ilk are a different breed. First, they are boxers, which means that they give and take punches in order to make their lives, which they threaten with this act, better in some way, at least materially. They are also masters of self-promotion and often self-deception. Indeed, the ability to do both well is the key to gaining an advantage in this game; one that hurts as many men as it helps.

In the case of Fury, probably as good a self-promoter as we have ever seen, now that he has lost his first professional fight, he will never again need both the ability to promote and the ability to deceive himself. These two things remain the cornerstone of his success, but the main difference now is that he is viewed with a narrower eye and he no longer preaches to the converted but to the skeptical.

This became clear last week when Fury, discussing his May fight with Usyk, said the following: “Actually, the Usyk fight was a lot easier than I thought. easier. People said he was tough to hit, but I challenged him with three- and four-punch combos and laughed at him. My problem with this fight was that I was probably having fun. It was probably too uncomplicated. Sometimes it’s too uncomplicated. It was like I was there with a local amateur boxer and I was just enjoying it too much and fooling around. I paid the ultimate price in round nine when I got a 10-8 round and got cut. This is what happens when you have too much fun.”

Based on these comments, some might venture to say that Fury’s fun never ended. However, if they are to be taken literally and there is no reason to believe that Fury is lying (at least to himself), it would be a sin not to reconsider the Usyk fight and how it played out from Fury’s point of view. Eventually, according to him, everything was going according to plan until he found himself having fun and was caught in the ninth inning. Up to this point, he felt like he was on his way to victory, and in fact, whether you agreed with it or not, only he would know if it was true. However, there were certainly rounds leading up to the ninth in which Fury looked not only comfortable but in control; which I think adds credibility to what he’s saying and adds color to the picture he’s trying to paint in retrospect.

Fury conquers Usyk (Richard Pelham/Getty Images)

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and when Fury looks at his work, he sees something the rest of us don’t – and that’s okay. While the rest of us see something abstract and complex to understand, Fury, being an artist and one who has experienced both the process and the emotions associated with it, is able to interpret and describe it in a way that is unacceptable to us. range. Whether this makes his interpretation credible or even true is a completely different argument, but at least it should be respected and understood. After all, he was there, and Usyk felt things the rest of us were just looking at.

If Fury, as the underdog of the fight, now feels the need to lie to himself to regain his confidence ahead of the rematch later this year, that’s fine too. Moreover, if this is indeed the thinking, Fury will only be doing what countless other boxers have done as a coping mechanism since time immemorial.

“At the height of failure,” wrote the Romanian philosopher Emil Cioran, “at the moment when shame has almost exhausted us, we are suddenly overcome with a frenzy of pride that lasts only long enough to exhaust us, to leave us without energy, to reduce the intensity with our own strength. our shame.

For Fury, a man so used to winning, the pride is clear – always. There is also an illusion, albeit a necessary one for the boxer, and the ego; again, vital for anyone who steps foot in the ring. But if you can bear with it and accept it for what it is, you might find some truth in what Tyson Fury had to say about his first career defeat. This is, of course, only the truth, but isn’t it, ultimately, the only truth that has any real meaning or significance in matters such as this?

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After 12 rounds on Friday, Macaulay McGowan is fourth in the fathers’ race

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HIS plan initially was to excuse himself from the fathers’ race due to injury. Leg, arm, head, whatever would be useful. Indeed, just one look at his face, still bruised from Friday’s fight, and it would be tough for even the most competitive parent not to feel sorry for Macaulay McGowan and let him sit this fight out.

But McGowan’s problem was that his daughter, Florence, who had already won the bean bag race herself, had nothing to do with it. “Come on, daddy,” she said to her hero. “You”.

“I felt pretty bad,” McGowan said moments after crossing the finish line during sports day. “I was tranquil Eddy; he finished fourth out of eight. I was just outside the top three.”

Florence, his seven-year-old daughter, fared much better. She brought home medals – or in this case stickers – and her father, standing by, was ecstatic to watch her and enjoy her transformation from warrior back to commoner.

Now that he can eat what he wants, go where he wants and fulfill a role much more critical than that of a fighter, McGowan currently finds himself in that perfect post-fight place – call it the honeymoon – where the adrenaline of the battle and its aftermath continues to fuel him ahead inevitable expulsion.

“I’m actually high,” he said. “I couldn’t sleep very long. But eventually it wears off, right? Everyone is now screaming and stuff, calling you a warrior and stuff like that, but eventually it all fades away and you’re left with only loss. It takes time for this to stabilize.

“At about this point or in the next few days, I will accept that I lost and it will hurt. But I can do it, man. I’m not too worried about it. I have a momentary lull and that’s it.”

On Friday, McGowan fought 12 rounds against highly touted German Abass Baraou in a fight for the European super welterweight title. That alone is perhaps noteworthy, especially considering Baraou’s reputation and McGowan’s career path so far, but the way he pushed Baraou and won the hearts of fans is what brought McGowan (20-5-2 (5)) home with a feeling of victory even after defeat. On the one hand, yes, he failed to prepare for the gigantic night, but on the other hand, performing live on Channel 5, he was met with a fanfare that some contestants cannot find with their hands raised.

“I try to be successful from within,” he said. “I try to keep it all inside. If I give 100 percent in training and 100 percent when performing at night, I will achieve what I wanted. That’s basically all I can do.

“It’s disappointing that my best results weren’t good enough. But at the same time, it’s not up to me. I can’t conjure victory out of skinny air. I can’t exploit magic to defeat this boy at night. I gave my all in the fight and he was better than me. I have to accept it and I accept it. This is how I will get over the loss.

“The losses hurt, yes they hurt and they always will because at the end of the day I’m a competitor and I really want to win. But sometimes I have to accept that you’re doing your best, but it’s not enough. I know it’s not sexy and it’s not what you read in sports books, but it works for me.

“It still doesn’t mean I accept the level I’m at or the boxer I am today. I’ll go out and work on the things I need to work on. But if I worked on everything I needed to work on before the fight and gave it my all, I couldn’t do anything more. If the fight doesn’t go my way, there’s not much I can do, right?”

Abass Baraou overtakes Macaulay McGowan

To say McGowan’s approach to competition is refreshing would be an understatement. By thinking this way, the 29-year-old shows not only humility, maturity and understanding, but also intelligence and confidence that most would lack, given everything he has just said. after all, intelligence has as much to do with the ability to accept and cope with reality as it does with anything else. Even the self-confidence that so many boxers need and desire is only beneficial when it is a confidence rooted in some reality and an awareness of what is true and what is not. Otherwise, it is not self-confidence, but an illusion.

“I got a surprise shot at the European title and I think everyone thought Baraou was going to knock me out and it was going to be a quick and uncomplicated night for him,” McGowan said. “The scorecards (119-110, 118-110 and 117-111) may indicate that it was an “uncomplicated” night for him, but I know full well that every round was close. Okay, there were one or two rounds that he won clearly, but the rest were close. It was never for him.

– He’s not some nobody either. He was a legitimate, solid, world-class fighter with a European title. I gave my all, but it wasn’t enough.”

The Mancunian added: “I lost, but I’m not defeated. At one point in my career, I never thought I would be in fights like this. But there I was headlining a gigantic European title fight on Channel 5 and giving the fans what they wanted to see. For me it really doesn’t get much bigger than that. That was crazy. I know I said that if I won this fight it would make my career easier, but even just remembering this whole situation – fighting for the European title against the second WBA – is priceless. As a child, I would have done anything for this moment.”

No matter how humble he is, and certainly as he is, McGowan is not the type of man to eat dinner while performing – whether in victory or defeat. Instead, as Monday showed, he is more willing to break away from the ersatz world of attention and adulation and go straight back to what he does best and what he knows. In other words, he wants to get back to reality as quickly as possible; day job; real life.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he said of his first day back at work, where he measured and cut drywall. “I didn’t have to do much. I just took measurements of the drywall, then did some trimming and tidying up.

“Everyone (at work) was dead ecstatic. Everyone was just talking about the fight and praising me a lot. I liked. It’s nice to have that balance, meet other people and get some routine back in your life. Otherwise you’ll just dwell on it.

Before the drywall was cut, McGowan could be seen at Joe Gallagher’s boxing gym. It was there he stayed until 11.30 and there he paraded and bore the only signs of success he took home from Friday’s fight at Bolton.

“When I have a gigantic fight like that, especially a loss, I like to just go into the fight on Monday and get it out,” he said. “Honestly, I just wanted to put on the Grant gloves I had. I wore Grant’s gloves when I fought and I always wanted to wear them. I’ve always dreamed about them, but I would never pay for them. I took them home with me so I could wear them to the gym.”

See. Who needs seat belts?

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