By Terence Dooley
During one of his lengthy gossiping sessions (known in some quarters as conferences) the father of psychology Sigmund Freud (although Franz Brentano is also worth a shout) was asked by a member of the audience if he could define the essence of ‘madness’. Freud paused for a moment before answering, “Heavyweight boxing in general and heavyweight boxers in particular”. In recent times British boxing has had its own roving one-man madhouse in the form of Danny Williams.
It may sound harsh, and is in no way a slur on the Williams’ ability, he is a very skilled boxer, but the truth is that Danny’s career often elicits a single reaction - “Bloody hell!”
For example:
“Undefeated contender Danny Williams just lost his ‘0’ to Julius Francis.”
“Bloody hell!”
“Remember Danny Williams? He has just won British and Commonwealth titles by stopping Mark Potter. Despite having a badly dislocated shoulder for most of the fight.”
“Bloody hell!”
“Danny Williams just lost his European title tilt against Sinan Samil Sam (the fighter, not the Paul McCartney classic from the album ‘Venus and Mars’). He was put down three times then stopped. He is blaming it on shingles.”
“Bloody hell!”
“Danny has just lost his British title to Michael Sprott. A man he had defeated twice previously. Danny spent most of the fight replicating Jay-Z’s ‘Dirt of Ya Shoulder’ dance.”
“Bloody hell!”
“You will not believe this. Danny Williams just knocked-out Mike Tyson with a 5,000,000-punch combination! He then asked his ‘wife’ to marry him, twice!”
“Bloody Hell! Are you sure?!”
And on it went, and goes. Danny was given a tilt at the WBC heavyweight title held by Vitali Klitschko only to come in massively overweight, thereby robbing himself of, in my mind, a very good chance of beating a poor titleholder.
Undeterred Williams went on to take the Audley Harrison’s ‘0’, before then losing to Big Aud’, via third round stoppage; almost a year to the day after Danny’s win over Harrison.
Despite appearing washed-up, Williams went on to hand Scott Gammer his first-ever professional defeat, grabbing the British heavyweight title in the process. Instead of being buoyed by this success the enigmatic Williams seemed subdued by it, he was critical of his performance. Citing his most svelte physique for years as the reason he had performed ‘poorly’. Again the implication was that Danny boxes better ‘heavy’.
It is generally traditional for British Champions to head out to the continent in order to take titles there, current British Champion Williams has instead, in two recent fights, opted to export his own brand of boxing madness to the European continent. When most fighters are making late, often improbable, surges for the world titles they once held Williams, who perhaps should have won a world title himself, seems hell-bent on writing his own chapter in the madcap history of the heavyweight division. At one point he was a footnote in this history, an annotation to Tyson’s madcap late career, yet his European adventure has surely ensured that Danny himself is now on the cusp of entry into heavyweight insanity’s Valhalla.
Exhibit A came in December. Danny opted to travel to Switzerland in order to fight Oleg Platov, a man whose biggest win up to that point was over Henry Akinwande (Oh for another two-pages of heavyweight madness).
Within seconds the raging Platov had wobbled Williams. A few seconds later Williams had fired back to signal that he was no pushover. Within the first minute Williams had cut Platov’s mouth, and the resulting smears of blood made Platov resemble The Joker.
In the second round Williams landed a right hand on Platov. This appeared to open-up a cut over the left eye of his foe (replays would show it was caused by an accidental clash of heads). Platov’s considered reaction to this was to hit Williams on the break, he then modelled his cut for the referee, when the ref failed to comment Platov took a knee and gestured to his corner with a “come over here” motion, perhaps, like a child, hoping to show them his cut, or maybe he was calling for the stretcher bearers. Referee Earl Brown began to count; he then abandoned the count and allowed Platov to arrange his own appointment with the ringside doctor.
Upon rising Platov belted Williams with a right hand to the body, Williams retorted with an elbow to the face of Platov, followed by a left hook. Both men, after finally realising that they were engaged in a boxing match, blazed away with pairs of hooks.
Between rounds the corner team reminded Platov that he was winning the fight; if he could win the next two rounds he could quit in the fifth, citing the eye, and take a Technical Decision on the accidental foul rule. Platov seemed nonplussed and had to be coaxed into coming out for the third round.
Early into the round, after a little pressure from Danny, Platov spat out his shield. This in turn gave Williams time to rediscover his jab, the penny then dropped and Danny used the punch to batter Platov about the face. A big pair of hooks, to the body and head, from the left hand, swung the session in Danny’s favour.
They were now 2-1 in rounds and it was Danny in the ascendancy. With this in mind Platov came out strong in round four only to walk onto a big jab from Williams. The reenergized Williams then put flagging Platov onto the back foot, Platov’s cut suddenly became a massive ringside issue and the fight was called off at 2:15 of the round.
Call me a cynic but it had seemed that Platov’s team were happy for him to get beyond five rounds in order to take a Technical Decision win, only for Danny to upset this plan by actually fighting back, and winning round three to throw doubt on the outcome.
As soon as the bout was stopped Platov went from looking very sorry for himself to a study of rage, he finally looked like he wanted to fight but it was too late, the fight was over.
Despite all this Williams, and his team, had assumed a win and looked crestfallen when they found out the fight was a No Contest. With no sense of irony whatsoever a member of Williams’ team called the referee a “blood clot” (if Platov had a blood clot the point would have been moot) and shouted “thieves”. Williams himself smiled and said it was all “an experience”.
Exhibit B in the strange case of Mr Williams came on Saturday night when he fought Konstantin Airich, plus the referee Alfredo Garcia and promoter Ahmet Oner, eventually defeating them all by seventh round TKO.
This fight started strangely, and then went downhill from there. The referee insisted on giving the fighters their instructions twice, despite neither man, to my knowledge, knowing a word of Spanish.
Danny came out behind his jab in the first round; once again he had weighed in at a ridiculous weight in order to boost his punch resistance. Airich then countered the jab with a big right hand. The blow sent Danny into a 45-degree spin, so much for the added punch resistance. The rest of the round was similarly straightforward; Airich battered Williams to the body and head as a maniacal Herbie Hide jumped up and down at ringside.
Round two saw Danny land a low left hook to the groin of his opponent. Shortly after this foul Williams set his sights and let loose with another shot, a low left hook to the danglers of Airich. Konstantin sank to his knee under the impact of this blatant low blow only for referee Garcia, who was ready for his starring role, to call a count.
Now, one would assume that this meant he considered the punch legal and was, therefore, counting a knockdown (which in turn could bring a 10-8 round for Williams). However when Spain do as the Spanish do and, after performing the count, Garcia then signalled that a two-point deduction was to be taken from Williams’ score for the low blow, the low blow he had presumably deemed to be a punch.
It was insane. It also presented a quandary, if the ref calls a count you have to factor it in. Garcia made three calls (the count, the penalty deduction, the amount of points to take), all of them wrong. Therefore I had to score this round 10-9 for Williams (a knockdown without dominating) as well as putting a –2 into the third column, for deductions by the referee, on Danny’s side of my scorecard, making it a 9-8 round should the fight have gone the distance. It was insane.
By the early stages of round three the tape around Danny’s glove was unravelling, to be fair it unravelled far more slowly than the fight itself.
Suddenly a big one-two from Konstantin wobbled Williams badly; he was rocked but did not touch down. Perhaps in a flashback to his days refereeing amateur fights, and I am sure he will return to that level, the referee gave Williams a standing eight-count.
Williams took the count then waited as Garcia tried to wrap the tape back around the gloved area, clearly the tape had lost its adhesive quality but this did not deter this DIY ref. Williams ambled onto another big one-two, again he was rocked backwards, and again the standing count was given. This time, though, Williams used the pause to remove the tape completely, and dangerously, from his glove.
With two counts given I had no choice but to give this round 10-7 against Williams, although at this point I realized I was making a crucial error, I was actually applying the rules of scoring to a fight that was not even being refereed correctly, this was my first mistake. My second came immediately afterwards when announcing that not even Danny could conjure up an ending insane enough to win this fight. How wrong I was.
Round four was quite tepid really. Williams woke-up and actually started to defend himself. Furthermore his heavy-handed shots were now backing his opponent up. Referee Garcia stole a moment of the round to admonish a nonplussed Danny in Spanish but it was a clear round, at last, for the beleaguered Williams. Or so it seemed.
Late in the round, its end in fact, a left hand by Konstantin missed its target, wrong-footed Danny went over briefly and was, you guessed it, given a count by referee Garcia. At this point I was left to wonder if the referee had learned how to count to ten earlier that day and was now showing his newfound knowledge off. With the round won, but the ‘knockdown’ called, I had no choice but to score the round 10-9 for Konstantin.
By the fifth Konstantin was very much worse for wear. Jabs followed by right and left hooks from Williams were taking their toll. A pair of hooks to the body seemed to land correctly only for the ref to call a low blow on one of the shots, the earlier 2-point deduction had, I presume, counted as Danny’s warning, this time he was punished with a 1-point deduction.
By this point it was clear that the referee was truly inept, an insult to the relative genius of Manuel from ‘Fawlty Towers’. Nonplussed Williams hit Airich with a jab, this in turn set-up a huge left hook that sent Konstantin reeling; a follow-up one-two was blocked only for Konstanin’s back leg to buckle under his own weight, the ref stepped in, calling another knockdown with 0.00 of the round reached. Konstantin rose. Garcia then brought both men to the middle of the ring, the bell finally rang, and he promptly sent them back to their corners.
During the minute rest between rounds five and six someone, Mike Oldfield perhaps, rang the bell a number of times, an omen of the insanity that was to come in the very next round. A double pair of hooks – left and right – put Konstantin into serious trouble and a following right hand put him over, the referee, finally, correctly called a knockdown and the fight seemed a done deal.
Then, bizarrely, the bell rang before the round could continue and the referee called the round over with 1:28 left on the clock. The 1:28 stayed on screen for most of the premature rest period, clearly the round had been shortened. As it turned out this was done by promoter Oner, who claimed he was saving his boy from further punishment in ringing the bell, yet he allowed his fighter to go out for the seventh round, pick the bones out of that one. At this point one must presume the ringside officials had gone for a siesta, or are completely incompetent to the point they could not stop a man in a conspicuous beige suit leaning over them and ringing the bell.
Both men came out for the seventh round despite Konstantin looking finished. Williams came out for the seventh with a big right to the body, the tape had come loose on his gloves again, but no one seemed to care. As Konstantin staggered around the ring that man Oner, the caring one, threw in the white towel of surrender, or maybe it was an ill-advised attempt to knobble Williams with a towel (a la ‘Naked Gun II’). The referee finally did something useful, he wrapped it up. Williams had won by improbable TKO in one of the strangest fights this writer has ever seen, and I have seen some strange fights.
Thrown into the mix was a cut on the eye of Williams that his corner men either did not notice or did not care about, certainly no work was done on it. With the seeping blood, his bald skull, and his enigmatic countenance Williams ended the fight looking like a demented Blaxploitation Colonel Kurtz. It is another strange chapter in the career of a truly eccentric British boxer.
In recent fights, especially the two mentioned above, we have seen the best and worst of Danny Williams. All joking aside in Saturday’s fight we saw Danny almost broken by a useless referee and an over-excited promoter. As a fan of the fighter, and the man in truth, it is time to say enough is enough, fights like Saturday’s slugfest are remembered for the odd events surrounding them, rather than the grit and talent on show.
There is similarly a risk that Danny’s career will be remembered for all the wrong reasons. For the madness rather than the skills, and this would be truly terrible, to that end it is now up to Danny to drop the weight and make sure that his next few fights see a relatively slender Danny do the business and go down as a solid British heavyweight fighter in his own right, rather than a codicil to the madcap nature of heavyweight boxing.
As an aside the final moments of the fight saw me glance at my notes, they looked like the scrawls of a man on LSD, then Herbie Hide jumped into the ring to talk to Konstantin and I had one last note to make: ‘Herbie Hide has entered the ring. Bloody hell!’
