Now, TWICE in 13 months, Chris Billam-Smith has looked like a boy on the playground, furious with a classmate who, instead of kicking the ball, enjoys picking it up with his hands every time. the time when he will approach him. Often reminded that they are playing soccer, not rugby, the boy with the ball in his hands turns around and says, “But that’s how they play soccer in America.”

More fun for a boy with a ball in his hands than for a boy who wants to kick the same ball, neither boy is necessarily wrong at this point. However, only one of them finds this situation irritating and in the context of the boxing ring, a land with far fewer gray areas, there is, it must be emphasized, a clear difference between a boxer who wants to fight and a boxer who wants to fight and one who would rather do something else.

That’s not to say that Richard Riakporhe, Billam-Smith’s opponent last night (June 15) in Croydon, was reluctant to do exactly what he was being paid to do, but the difference between the two cruiserweights’ attitudes was almost as stark as the difference between the boys on the playground who are not sure whether the ball should be kicked or carried.

Billam-Smith, for his part, is and always has been action; a kicker, not a carrier. Indeed, if there is one minor knock against him, it is because he is crystal clear – ​​read: predictable – in his willingness and willingness to get down to business and fight a proper, classic fight. In fact, it was this mentality that endeared him to many British boxing fans and left potential opponents licking their lips when considering fighting him. Because with Billam-Smith you know what you’re getting. What’s more, you get what you want.

Or at least that it was. As you can see, Billam-Smith recently learned that the vintage adage about two fighters making an ‘a’ is rooted in truth, and not just what a boxer says when he fails to impress in the biggest moment. He realized that against Lawrence Okolie, from whom he won the WBO cruiserweight belt last May, and he realized it all over again last night when Riakporhe, like Okolie, brought as much uncertainty to the ring as he did athleticism and as much negativity as strength.

In the latter case – that is, in the case of Riakporhe – it was more of a surprise, but that does not mean it was any less disappointing for Billam-Smith and his fans. In fact, because it was a surprise and Riakporhe was not expected to spoil his way through the fight, the reality of what happened at Selhurst Park made the spectacle even uglier than Billam-Smith vs. Around Bournemouth in May last year. At least it was toasty that night.

Unfortunately, this was one of those cruiserweight fights that people were once told to avoid. It was dominated largely by Billam-Smith, who conducted himself professionally and like a workman throughout, and only once, in the ninth round, did it threaten to explode and become more than what it was: an eyesore. In that ninth round, Riakporhe finally came to life. He landed a right hand early in the round that sent Billam-Smith’s mouthguard flying into the air, and then landed two more right hands, one with a minute left and one in the final 30 seconds that left Billam-Smith unsettled, if not it hurts.

Those shots brought the otherwise peaceful crowd back into the game just in time, and now they hoped Riakporhe would take advantage of this slight change in momentum and give them an exhilarating final three rounds. However, Riakporhe had another idea. Instead of building on his success in the ninth round, he treated the next three rounds the same as the expansive majority of the earlier rounds. That is, he looked for right hands, looked for right hands, and then, at the point where it seemed like a good idea to stop looking for them and let one go, Riakporhe would invariably initiate and seek cover in the rivet. Worse still, in this position he tended to stay put, unsure how to break out of the clinch he had initiated or, which would make sense, effectively work from the inside against a fighter and champion who had never shown any reluctance to attack. -close battle.

Unfortunately, this never came to pass, and what’s more, Riakporhe, now 17-1 (13), was not given a warning for holding – which, by the way, was merciless – until the 11th round, when referee Steve Gray, he finally had enough and issued his “final warning”. In truth, this last warning should have come much sooner, because at least then Riakporhe would have thought twice about crowding in for protection. Perhaps even Riakporhe was helped by the knowledge that he now had no choice but to keep his distance and punch.

Ultimately, the warning for both Riakporhe and the fans came much too tardy, and the point he lost in the following, twelfth round was the result of using his head rather than holding on, which only added to the strangeness of the situation. attack. Meanwhile, Billam-Smith, as is his wont, simply shrugged and continued. It clearly wasn’t his style of fighting, but it was still a fight he had to treat with respect, a fight he had to see to the end, and a fight he had to win.

Which, of course, he did, albeit with three scores that were a little too close to comfort: 116-111, 115-112, 115-112. It’s significant to remember that Riakporhe’s point deduction in the 12th round makes these results even more disturbing, but for Billam-Smith (20-1 (13)) the only thing that matters is the victory.

The 33-year-old, who continues to improve, defeated his two closest domestic rivals in the space of 13 months and, even more impressively, managed to not only avenge the only defeat of his career (to Riakporhe in 2019), but also set a your way past these awkward opponents in fights that go against everything Chris Billam-Smith stands for. In other words, to defeat them, he had to embrace ugliness. He had to endure the frustration and try not to let it become his greatest threat. He had to put it all together and look through it.

Entertainment had to be sacrificed in the process, and all efforts to please the audience that had built Billam-Smith’s reputation a few years ago were now in vain. In the 24 rounds he spent enjoying Okolie and Riakporhe, there would have been no opportunity to gain modern fans or raise his profile to a higher level, but that’s okay. That, for Billam-Smith, can wait. He knew this was something he had to transcend; something he had to tolerate and then rise above. The fun can begin again when they find an opponent who shares the same beliefs.

IF ever a line summed up a fighter, it was Subriel Matias’ declaration this week that just knocking down Liam Paro wouldn’t satisfy his bloodlust. Instead, he wants to make the Australian suffer.

While we like to shake our heads in disgust or disapproval in response to such a statement, as when Prince Naseem strutted into the ring surrounded by cemeteries and zombies, or when Sergei Kovalev openly mocked his victim’s distraught children sitting ringside, there is a quietly awkward situation of pleasure, that can be derived from the uncompromising nature of a rugged fighting machine.

Perhaps, given his history, Matias should “know better” when speaking out on the subject. But he’s a tough man in a tough sport.

On the opposite side, coming in with a record of 24-0 (15 KO), IBF super lightweight title challenger Liam Paro has no illusions about what it will take to dethrone the man who has beaten, broken and stolen the title from the soul of his last five victims .

“I’m a fighter and I fight like a fighter, and I’m proving that by not only fighting the most avoided guy in the division, but by going to his backyard to do it,” Paro said.

“I always said I would fight anyone and now I’m showing it. There’s a world title on the line and that’s what you dream about as a kid, winning world titles, and what better way to do that than by eliminating the number one fighter in the division. I didn’t want to take the basic route, you want to beat the best and there is no better way.

With full faith in his cornerback team, led by coach Alfie Di Carlo, Paro believes that a solid camp, tough training and a keen tactical mind will see him through the night and at the end of it with the title strapped to his belt.

“It’s a world title fight and you shouldn’t expect anything other than a difficult night’s work. I’m ready for a 12-round war. I’ll give 110 percent and I’m ready for whatever he throws at me. The IBF is a great organization and I believe it will be a fair fight, so the decision will depend on me and him and who wants it the most that night. If that happens and it goes 12 rounds, I have the boxing skills to come out on top in the cards.

Getting ahead on the cards is one thing. Staying there is completely different. Petros Ananyan managed to do this at the beginning of 2020, when he inflicted the only disadvantage on Matias in 21 fights. All of the remaining 20 victories were within reach, including revenge on Ananyan two years later when Subriel had gotten his act together. As if Paro hadn’t already received enough warning, Matias’ terse words about his return home to Puerto Rico veered into usual territory.

“During camp, I feel like an animal trapped in a cage,” Matias said. “Being imprisoned, having daily hassles, being away from family. This creates a monster that grows inside me during camp. I leave the camp as an animal in search of prey, and this time it is Liam Paro.

“I’m preparing to take damage and deal damage. They want to take the beans from my family and we can’t let that happen. We’ve put a lot of effort into being here, and I can’t lose it all in one day. That’s why I have to make these sacrifices,” Matias continued, darkening by the second.

“Many say I’m crazy, but I like it, one day they will open their eyes and I will become the unified champion. They’ll have to give it to me.

Although Matias appears to be a brutal world champion on paper, the 32-year-old’s approach is more refined.

His opponent can also box and punch a little. A confident southpaw with a decent kick, Paro annihilated domestic rival Brock Jarvis in one round and scored a forceful sixth-round victory over the talented but unpredictable Montana Love in tardy 2023.

If he can march into a hostile environment, silence the crowd and grab Subriel Matias’ 140-pound crown, effectively derailing the freight train momentum of one of boxing’s best beasts, then the Queensland man deserves all the credit.

Intense and lively throwing bombs at Matias early on brought success to players such as Jeremias Ponce, Batyrzhan Jukembayev and Shohjahon Ergashev. Keeping the boogeyman at bay for a long time is a much more tough task.

Another tough task is generating the hype and buzz needed to capture the attention of the boxing audience tuned in to a pay-per-view event in Las Vegas that is taking place around the same time. If one player can rival Gervonta Davis in a spine-chilling finish, it’s Subriel Matias. Just don’t expect any apology when he does it.

It started with a voice in the crowd. Deafening, confident, intrusive, undesirable. Hearing this voice, every member of the gathered crowd turned, wondering first whether the interruption had been planned, and then whether anyone around them could attribute the name of the man whose words had caused it. From there, attention naturally turned back to Ben Whittaker, the man whose voice was silenced by the latter. We then wondered if maybe Whittaker would be able to provide some context to what was going on. We then wondered if perhaps he had the knowledge we all lacked.

At that moment, looking from the back of a hotel conference room in London, it could have been almost anyone. It could be, for example, a disgruntled hotel guest whose leopard-print bathrobe was previously stolen by Whittaker, or, for that matter, a disgruntled former adversary of Whittaker demanding “respect” that was never shown to Whittaker when they shared a ring. It could have been the voice of one of those modern boxing managers who share their thoughts on everything with fans, whether in cars or in conservatories on Zoom. Or it could have been Mauricio Sulaiman with a modern belt or Turki Alalshikh with a modern idea. It could have been a retired fighter trying to flog CBD oil or a physical manifestation of Ryan Garcia’s tweet. More likely, with Ben Whittaker on stage, it may have been the ghost of Frankie Randall demanding a return to his antique nickname: “The Surgeon.” And if not that, it could be Emanuel Augustus, who wanted all his antique moves and his entire identity back.

For now, we only had an accent and a few words. From these words, he obviously wanted a fight with this man. Fight with Whittaker. Fighting for money. He also accused Whittaker of having fought complete nobodies up to this point and avoided him, a moment that had countless camera-wielding fans turning on the Caps Lock feature on their phones in preparation for the headline. Remember, Whittaker didn’t want to play the same game. Instead, he cooled down any simmering tension by saying, “Someone get this man a Sprite and a banana.” At this point, the only sound in the room was laughter.

Then he sort of disappeared, the burglar; a man with a voice but no name. Taken out of the room through a side door directly into the hall, the agitator achieved his goal and quickly fled, never to return. There was really no need for this as the mission was accomplished. Eventually, the room soon learned that he wasn’t just an attention seeker looking to cause chaos on the Internet, but was actually a boxer. A real boxer. A boxer like Whittaker.

How refreshing, antique school, to see a boxer on the loose, in real life, go to such lengths to show up at another man’s press conference when he could have easily stayed at home and harassed him online like so many in boxing who currently they are very popular. How wonderful to know that some people still want to go a step further, analog men in a digital world.

Later we even got his name: Ezra. Ezra. The name would have to wait. It would have to wait until a better phone signal allowed BoxRec.com to load on my phone. By then, just for fun, I was trying to remember all the notable Ezras I knew. Pound; poet. Koenig; musician. Miller; actor. When it comes to boxing, the only person that came to mind was Sellers, although it couldn’t have been him because he sadly passed away in 2013.

No, this Ezra was a voice and a name modern to all of us. Ezra Arenyeka. That was his name. Or to give it a title: Eworitse Ezra Arenyeka. Born in Nigeria but living in Sale, we all discovered at almost the same time that this was the 28-year-old known as the “African King” who currently holds a record of 12-0 (10), hence his unwavering confidence. He has fought once in the UK, against Mohamed Cherif Benchadi in 2022, but has campaigned mainly in Nigeria, with occasional appearances in Ghana, the Netherlands and Colombia.

“Do you want to interview him?” several of us were asked this afternoon.

“Who?”

“Ezra. Is outside.

I still wasn’t sure if he was a boxer or not at this stage, no matter if he had a good reputation, I sensed that most people who were offered the opportunity politely turned it down. certainly yes, if only to make my point: don’t feed the birds; pay no attention to attention seekers. Or something like that.

And yet, despite the belief that denying him extra attention was the right thing to do, there remained a much greater belief that Ezra Arenyeka had acted insecurely and that in the end he would be the one laughing. Indeed, watching him at work, I was reminded of the moment when Mahmoud Charr – then ‘Manuel’ – did something similar at the press conference at Upton Park after David Haye’s fifth-round stoppage of Derek Chisora ​​in July 2012. That night, when Charr approached Haye at the top table, the reaction was very similar. Yet despite all this uncertainty, this approach worked. Suddenly, without beating anyone of note and despite no one knowing his name, Charr, the so-called “Diamond Boy”, was selected to fight Haye in September. This fight probably would have happened as well if Haye hadn’t found a more entertaining and noteworthy circus act in Tyson Fury shortly after signing the fight with Charr.

Similarly, Arenyeka will be rewarded on June 15 at Selhurst Park for his courage, insolence and self-promotion. That’s when, as expected, he’ll actually fight Ben Whittaker and get a chance to back up everything he shouted about the former amateur star at a press conference in a London hotel. Moreover, for both Arenyeka and Whittaker, a single and unexpected outburst at the press conference ensured that the June 15 featherlight heavyweight fight would be the most compelling and significant of Whittaker’s fledgling professional career. This is quite a feat, considering that no one could be sure that he was boxing at all when his opponent attacked.