John Fury bled as fighting intensified in Saudi Arabia during a week of fighting. Photo: PA/Nick Potts
Great fights tend to be preceded by moments of exquisite depth. Take “Rumble in the Jungle” in 1974, when Muhammad Ali mobilized to fight George Foreman by writing a poem. “Just last week I killed a rock, damaged a rock, hospitalized a brick,” he teased. “I’m so angry that the medicine makes me sick.”
Half a century has passed, and it is safe to say that the standards of linguistics of boxing and its protagonists have dropped. Instead of Ali's playful verses, we now have the idiotic taunts of John Fury, who, not content with shouting “Fury, Fury” in the Saudi entourage, demonstrates his courage by head-butting the smallest member of the entourage, Oleksandr Usyk.
At least Fury Sr.'s cowardice is part of his character. It's a figure we can hardly forget, who gouged out an opponent's eye after a 12-year dispute turned barbaric at a car auction in 2010. Sentencing him to 11 years in prison at Manchester Crown Court, Judge Michael Henshall said he showed “cold blood” in causing the “catastrophic” injury.
It is clear that time has done little to soften his penchant for senseless violence. Under minimal provocation, when Usik’s team simply supported their fighter, he crashed head-on into the head of Stanislav Shepchuk, a man half his size.
This is supposed to be the week when boxing is at its best. With Usyk and Tyson Fury fighting in the first fight for the undisputed heavyweight title in 25 years, the sport finally has a reason to actually have weight and relevance to counter all the crossover nonsense involving YouTubers and MMA fighters who never didn't box. Instead, the focus is on Fury's father, who, to put it mildly, is not the type of character Norman Mailer would ever want to mythologize. A convicted criminal, he, as soon as he knew, made his son's greatest event a cowardly attack.
It is noteworthy that he then had the audacity to suggest that he was simply defending the honor of his son. “We fight people,” he croaked. Except that there are two forms of fighting people: those who amaze with their skill, and those who engage in causeless banditry. John Fury falls squarely into the second camp. Just try reading the testimony of Oty Sykes, the man he left half-blind, to get some idea of the savagery he is capable of. The attack on Stepchuk was as predictable as it was vile.
There will be those who will argue that the elder Fury's actions are part of the old warrior code, that his instinct is to lash out at anyone who trespasses on his territory. But his attempts at excuses were as illogical as the headbutt itself. “Who cares, it’s a little burgundy,” he said as blood ran down his face. “The last thing they are going to do is harm me or my family. We don't talk, we don't shout.” Two seconds later, he resumed chanting “Rage” at the top of his lungs at the sycophants across the room.
Awkward entourages are nothing new in boxing. The diminutive Floyd Mayweather Jr. looked a little ridiculous as he roamed the floor of the MGM Grand casino in Las Vegas with a 7-foot bodyguard nicknamed “Big Church.” But Fury's most absurd hanger-on is his own father, who believes he has carte blanche to behave disgracefully because of his son's talent. Even Tyson himself looked shocked as he emerged from a television interview in Riyadh to face the sight of his bloodied father.
At least some had the courage to point out the obscenity of it all. “An absolute disgrace to the sport,” was how Joe Egan, a former Irish heavyweight, described John Fury. “Hard to believe,” said commentator John Rowling. The problem is that when it comes to boxing, it's too easy to believe. Harsh language about mutilation has been glorified ever since Mike Tyson said he wanted to eat Lennox Lewis's children. Today, with some of the biggest players being social media stars desperately trying to outdo each other with outrageous claims, the race to the bottom has never looked more like a race to the bottom.
Fury Sr. is obviously not afraid to join in. Last year, ahead of a ridiculous fight between his son Tommy and YouTube personality KSI, he had to be physically restrained as he tried to headbutt the influencer through a perspex wall. In Riyadh, unfortunately, there was no such obstacle, which gave him the opportunity to attack Stepchuk in plain sight. Where Usyk's team maintained its dignity, Fury's father proved that he never had a place to start.
It's a shame as this could have been a brilliant showcase for boxing, a long-delayed duel between two of the preeminent heavyweights of their generation. But he is sabotaged by the ugliness of the pantomime that has grown up around him. Come to think of it, this fight marks the 50th anniversary of Ali's triumph in the jungles of Zaire, when he had a pun to match his boxing prowess. “When George Foreman meets me, he will pay off his debt,” he promised. “I can drown a sip of water and kill a dead tree. Wait until you see Muhammad Ali.” From these images to the grotesque John Fury? How low the sweet science has fallen.
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