It was during Radivoje Kalajdzic’s recent dramatic victory over Oleksandr Gvozdyk that who he promises will be the increasingly familiar figure of Jessy Ross Thompson could be seen in “Hot Rod’s” corner.
Complementing the instructions of Richard Caronongan, Kalajdzic’s trainer, Thompson could also be heard using the perhaps crucial words “don’t overthink it”. Kalajdzic, who had been knocked down in both the first and fourth rounds, ultimately proceeded to stop Gvozdyk in the seventh to record not only a transformative victory but potentially his finest victory of all.
Should Kalajdzic continue to succeed it will remain Caronongan who rightly continues to be credited with the greatest influence on that success, but supporting him will be Thompson, the hungriest of young trainers, and one who has already been guided by some of the best.
Before being recruited by Caronongan, Thompson, of Canada, had already worked under Marc Ramsey and Pedro Diaz, respectively the trainers of Artur Beterbiev, Noel Mikaelian and more. It regardless was Russ Anber who first detected his potential and sought to harness it, and to the extent that he oversaw Thompson working his first corners at the age of 15.
“My dad brought me to Russ Anber’s gym [in Montreal], ‘cause he used to train there, at seven years old,” the 34-year-old Thompson tells BoxingScene. “My dad [Neil] was a coach – he’s worked with a lot of top guys in Canada. He worked Jean Pascal’s corner; he worked with Adonis Stevenson; David Lemieux. He, basically, was Russ Anber’s assistant.
“When I was a kid there was a lot of pressure to perform. I loved the sport; I understood the sport. But competing myself, I didn’t like it much. I only really started liking it when I did my last fight at nationals.
“Russ used to have his In This Corner show, on Monday nights on TSN, and Russ got kicked out of the corner of my last amateur fight, because he started yelling at the ref. It made all the newspapers in Canada, and then a week later they fired him from his show. He reminded me recently that that was my fault [laughs]. Russ is very emotional – he’s a direct person. He’s not gonna hold off to any equality or unfairness. I was doing really well – one of my best performances – and the ref kept taking points off.
“I’m very, very good at boxing. I’m not talking out of my ass. Let’s say someone would ask me to do a manoeuvre – I could do it. I just didn’t have confidence when I used to fight myself, so it didn’t translate. But as a coach I’m able to show my fighters anything that I ask – it helps a lot. I understand it really well.
“By the age of 15 Russ had already identified me as becoming his protege – I started coaching there. I would train and then sit down and watch him coach and I just saw myself being him. When he stopped sparring and asked the question ‘What happened here?’ he’d always turn his way towards me and I’d have the answer. It came very natural to me. The feeling of being able to take a fighter from point A to point B is the best feeling. It’s rewarding. There was a lot of amateurs in the gym and I would take the fighters that no one else wanted to train – that were 0-4 in the amateurs and didn’t have any future – and I kinda started turning them around and that’s the feeling I really fell in love with.
“He said ‘No one listened like you, Jess’, and I remember vividly – when he was working my corner I would close my eyes and listen to what he said. Do it; apply it, and right away – success. It’s pure. There’s so much pressure; fight or flight; the subconscious takes over. It’s just breaking it down – it’s very simple.
“When I train fighters I teach them tools. I teach them situational – different styles they’ll have to face, and different identities – and I break it down for them. It’s an addictive feeling when you’re a fighter ‘cause you’re in such a crazy moment – to hear that calming voice, the guidance… Once you start listening to that voice and it’s so much easier – less stressful; less scary – it becomes addicting. Of course it’s easier to say, but with development and time, that’s the way I coach today.
“I started working with amateurs when I was 15 – I coached amateurs ‘till the age of 23, 24, ‘till I saw it was kind of a waste of time for me. You have to use the sport somehow to get your experience – Russ was always keen on me to not jump to the top right away, into situations where I’m not ready. The knowledge was there, but the most important was experience. We had pro fighters at Russ’ gym – when I was 16 he’d say ‘Let’s go in the B-side dressing room – whoever doesn’t have a cut man, you’ll work their corners for free; wrap their hands for free’, so I started that way. Guys would come in, and yeah, they’d lose all the time, but I’d start getting my feet wet; network. In the amateurs it’s the same thing. Russ was really hard on me. ‘You have to develop guys from the ground up.’
“From then on I’ve always worked corners, whether it was Russ, or Marc Ramsay. Maybe I was filling up the waters; maybe the towels.”
It was on the undercard of Jean Pascal’s unanimous decision victory over Kingsley Ikeke in 2007 that Thompson first worked as a cut man. Aged 16 he first operated as an assistant trainer and, at 18, with Kevin Lavallee, for the first time he was in a corner as a head coach.
“From the age of 16 until about the age of 18 I was very sick with crohn’s disease – I had a lot of surgeries,” he recalls. “The last surgery, the moment I got out of hospital and was in my car on the way home, Russ is like ‘You gotta get yourself in the gym right away – I need you’. It just became so natural to become head coach, and that gym was special, because it had a big reputation, and a lot of kids in Montreal that would just show up – 15, 16 years old – that need direction; guidance. It was a great time for me to get experience and build an amateur team.
“Two fighters I trained in the amateurs become pros four or five years later, and that was very important for me – not to jump right in at the top or put myself in situations where it’s easy. One of those fighters still fights today – [the lightweight] Avery Martin Duval.
“I don’t train him anymore. I felt like he wasn’t really listening anymore. He was [previously] living at my house. ‘Listen, I think it’s time for you to move on.’ When it comes to boxing you cannot make decisions with your ego, because it’s very dangerous. [But] it was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in my life, because I invested so much in the kid; he believed in me so much. He’s had five or six wins since then and he’s still undefeated; I’ve maintained a good relationship; I want what’s best for him. [But] that’s what it is – it’s a dangerous sport. Part of the philosophy is always to be honest with these guys because it’s a tough, tough business.
“[Ramsay taught me] being structured; organised; building a team; recruiting fighters. The whole professionalism – he operates a very strong team. A lot of good coaches. He surrounds himself with great coaches; cut men. It’s putting the pieces together to have a good time.
“Pedro Diaz, the way of structuring training; the way of doing pad-work. Especially the pad-work – how he does pads with his fighters. Understanding how to step into punches, technically speaking, is something I learned from him – stepping with the punch, repositioning, different angles with the feet. Stuff like that. Not so much like strategy. Just a different look for me to understand. The training that Pedro Diaz does is very interesting, the way he brings boxing and conditioning mixed together. Today, most fighters don’t do conditioning and boxing at once – it’s very separate entities.
“The one I really learned technique from – the pure of how to work a corner and how to operate in a gym – is Russ. It’s a shame Russ didn’t really push coaching. I told him – I tried to get it out of him. ‘You’ll regret not coaching longer.’ If he’d have been in the setting that I’m creating now he would have been one of the best coaches of all time. But to be a coach – it’s a lot of work. A lot of patience. It’s headaches, and a lot of time.”
Anber is widely recognised as one of the world’s leading cut men and wrapper of hands, but Thompson said: “Forget the cuts. Yes, he’s great, and working a corner he’s amazing, but that second voice is so important, and it’s a voice that comes without any strings. The first year I was here in the US I worked over 80 corners. A lot of fighters would call me back, not to work cuts, necessarily, but to have me in the corner as an extra voice. Russ knows how to say things and when to say things, and that’s huge. Knowing how to tell a fighter at the right time – Russ is king at that.”
While working under Ramsay in Montreal, Thompson, increasingly, felt the need to establish himself as an independent trainer and to pursue opportunities elsewhere. He assisted the Grant brothers Howard and the retired world champion Otis until the unique circumstances of the Covid pandemic presented to him the chance to progress further. The need of the heavyweight Brandon Moore for a trainer then briefly took him to the US and, aware that the Canadian fight scene represented a bubble and wary that that bubble could threaten his ambitions, Thompson concluded that he and his young family needed to relocate there full-time.
“Until you’re in the UK; the US; Mexico… this is another level, and you see it all the time,” he says. “Canadian fighters become 25-0 and then they’re sent to the US on the bigger stage and they struggle.
“My reputation always has been pretty good because of Russ, and my dad being a coach before. In Canada, Russ is an icon in boxing – to go to all his shows since I was seven years old… That was one of the hardest things for me moving to the US… Going into gyms and people telling me ‘I’m this; I’m that’, and I’m like ‘Bro, you’re not even close’. I had to restart from the bottom almost. [Today] I can go into any gym in Florida and people respect me – that’s a good feeling – but my ego definitely took a hit the first year here.
“Howard and Otis were very good at giving confidence to a fighter. Very good human beings; very good at reading a person and getting them motivated. What they did with Lucien Bute was exactly that. When Lucien did a comeback after the Jean Pascal loss – and he had a good run with them before he got knocked out by [in 2017, Eleider] Alvarez – they were just simple people. Very humble. The biggest hearts. They knew how to talk to a fighter to get the most out of him. Keeping it real, looking a fighter in the eyes, and very good motivators.
“[But] when I was at the Grants I was looking for a way out, and it was always about flying out on my own wings. It was time for me to represent myself and no one else. When Covid happened it was an excuse to move forward and break off, because everything was closed. It was a dead time and it wouldn’t impact too many people. It wasn’t that risky, to me. One of my clients, Antoine Kalendji, is a businessman in Montreal and he saw I had a lot of potential; a lot of drive. ‘I have a business space; I have an office; I’ll finance it; I’ll open it for you; come along and do your own thing.’ One thing led to another, I had my own pros in and out of camp. My Gym. But I needed this US transition.
“During Covid I got a phone call from an adviser, Ryan Rickey. One of his fighters, Brandon Moore, was on the card when [Artur] Beterbiev fought Marcus Browne, and his coach couldn’t come ‘cause he had a criminal record, and Rival [Boxing, owned by Anber] had suggested me. We connected; he was new to the sport, and I could tell he had a drive and a vision, and we just hit it off.
“Brandon Moore’s coach ended up going back to jail, and he had a fight in Detroit so Ryan said ‘I’ll finance you coming down; you can stay at Brandon’s house’, so I did that – I left my wife and kids at home for four or five weeks – and when I came down it was clear that I had to make the move. This was a way bigger league; a way better opportunity for me to succeed, and that’s what I wanted to do.
“One of the gyms that I brought him to was in St Pete[rsburg, in Florida], which was Rick Caronongan’s gym, where I work now. He had ‘Hot Rod’ – he beat up Brandon Moore in sparring, and I was like ‘Wow, I like this gym’, and then Ryan Rickey would call me and fly me down to Orlando to work cuts for his fighters, so sometimes I would bring some of my fighters down to the same gym to do camps or finish camps there, one or two weeks. Sometimes I would bring my wife [Valerie] down and she really loved it too. What really made it for me was Ryan Rickey and Rick Caronongan. They’re family now; we have the same vision; it’s just growing, recruiting fighters, creating this feeling; this camp setting.
“It’s a hotbed. Vegas is a hotbed, California [is a hotbed], and then it’s Florida. Sparring is plenty; Florida has a different culture. Coach Rick is the second most influential coach I’ve worked with, and there’s not that ego with him ‘cause he’s older than me so he’s like a father figure, helping me and my family with the move and sending work my way and introducing me to all of Florida.
“The biggest thing I’ve learned from him is really understanding the fighter for what he is and what his strengths and weaknesses are – he’s very good at that. He’s very orientated towards setting up your opponents; preparing the big shot; working behind the jab. I’m big on being engaged; being in a position of readiness. The top fighters are always in a position of readiness. I work pads with his guys; I’ll work cuts for his guys. He’ll help me with guys, but more on the outside. He won’t necessarily coach them, but he’ll watch the sparring and then I’ll go and sit down with him and he’ll tell me ‘Maybe tell him this; maybe you guys have to work this’. Just give me guidance, and ask me questions for me to reflect on how I’m coaching my fighters. He’s great. I’ve learned a lot from him.
“In Canada we were fortunate to have fighters from Russia; Ukraine; Mexico. Right now I have a lot of Mexicans in the gym – the Mexicans are very different from the rest. The Europeans are very good on scoring but their defence is horrendous; they don’t know how to work on the inside. Mexicans will throw more uppercuts than jabs – it doesn’t make sense but it works for them somehow, someway. Mexicans don’t know how to change speed – they’re always at the same speed. Their conditioning – they don’t have any conditioning – their eating habits… They’ve got balls for days though – they’re warriors. They don’t mind going at it. From every different culture there’s good and there’s bad. There’s just a melting pot [in Florida] – it’s understanding the different styles.”
Beyond his respect for Anber, who continues to attempt to open doors for him, Thompson is an admirer of the methods of Manny Robles and Robert Garcia, and in particular what he sees as their “consistency”.
He is aware of how much he needs to continue to dedicate himself to his profession to achieve anything like their success, but should he never do so it will not be because of an unwillingness to make the sacrifices it takes. Thompson has been on Florida’s west coast with his wife and their three daughters – six-year-old twins Emma and Clara and five-year-old Lily – since January 2024, and as a consequence left behind the considerable comfort and stability that underpinned their lives in Canada, their previous home.
For a year they had little choice but to live in a cramped trailer, but since that move their existence and Thompson’s career are slowly being rebuilt. He trains 15 of his own professionals, including Kevin Boakye, Maxime Vaz, Angelo Hernandez, Ariel Perez, Eric Valencia and Jamar Pemberton, and he assists Caronongan with Kalajdzic, Damazion Vanhotter and Mateo Tapia. It is why even as the assistant trainer, wins like Kalajdzic’s over Gvozdyk mean so much, and yet also why the rewards those victories generate are so short-lived.
“The hardest part – the business,” he says. “There’s no guarantees as a coach. There’s no money. There’s no set salary. I moved here two years ago – I didn’t even have my visa yet, and I brought down my family. We lived in a trailer with no rooms, just four beds – it’s small as fuck – for a year, sacrificing. It’s hard, man. It’s very, very hard. Ryan Ricky owns an auction, so overnight from 11pm to 2am, 3am, I would clean the whole place, bring the garbage up; clean the toilets; refill the waters. I went from my own gym and own house in Montreal where I was doing private [training sessions] all day for $80, $100 an hour – it was a very simple, comfortable life – to moving to the US, restart, [and] live in that trailer for a whole year.
“We had no money – we would have to go to church on Friday night to get free food. What my wife went through, man – I hope to God I become one of the best coaches and get to share this story with everyone. I don’t think she realises the sacrifices she’s done as well. It’s been very rocky. We’ve been together 11 years – I promised her I’d become the best in the world and that’s my biggest motivation, to provide for my wife and kids and get them what they need through boxing.
“It’s like a honeymoon – the first two, three months, it’s beautiful here. But when the money was running dry and I had to leave weekend after weekend to go on these local shows for no money just to build my name, it was rough, man. It’s still rough. I haven’t been home since Friday, I’m getting the red-eye [flight] to Tampa, my fighters are picking me up, and we’re going straight to the gym and I’m going to work 9am to 9pm just to make that money, so I’m not even going to see my wife and kids ‘till Tuesday. Tuesday I’m going to wake up early, because I have clients in the morning, go to the gym until 3pm, 4pm, and then at night I’m finally gonna see them. [Valerie] has friends in Florida but no family to help with the three kids, and pushing it week in, week out. It’s been a rough ride.
“It’s funny. I was working cuts for Bomac [Brian McIntyre] at a ProBox show and I was wrapping hands and he was watching me and he told me ‘I learned boxing through fighters; I didn’t know boxing; fighters taught me boxing; I just absorbed it; I let them tell me’. It’s very interesting to understand that fighters will come into your camp and you’ll start questioning them.
“That trailer hosts fighters now. You’ve got three fighters – a German fighter, a French fighter and a Mexican fighter – staying in there. I also bought a car so they could use it. I have two coaches who work under me – coach Alex and coach Elwood – and it’s creating a system like Freddie Roach, like Manny Robles, like Marc Ramsey.
“We have a great conditioning team, too – the fighters do their conditioning in a private gym. It’s just putting all the pieces together.
“I’m happy with how things are going. I’ve worked my whole life for this.”
