I’d struggle to begin to describe how much I dislike bare-knuckle boxing.
Encouraging two people to share a ring where they can’t truly defend themselves – where there’s no opportunity to use a rope-a-dope strategy, to parry, or to catch punches on the gloves – and then watching them batter each other until their hands and faces are mangled feels, to put it mildly, crude and archaic.
Professional boxing may be more dangerous. Professional bouts often last longer than we see in bare-knuckle boxing, and often, more punishment is delivered, over more rounds by hands that are protected – and therefore able to inflict sustained damage – with tape, wraps, and gloves.
But professional boxers are trained and encouraged to defend themselves – a fundamental concept that becomes almost impossible in bare-knuckle. Can you imagine a technician like Shakur Stevenson trying to defend himself bare-knuckle with his hands shattering as he attempts to throw punches and can no longer block, parry or catch punches? Deprived of doing so, he’d be forced into a brutal, toe-to-toe slugfest. In professional boxing, Stevenson – like others – celebrates all the skill, strategy, defence and precision that makes it the sweet science.
The wrapping of a professional boxers’ hands is so important that officials aren’t solely trusted; a representative form the opposing team must also witness and approve the process. Even slight mistakes in wrapping can cause fractures or long-term damage to the delicate bones of the hands and wrists. Gloves, too, must be approved by both camps and the commission. Our hands were made to grasp, not to punch with force – which makes it baffling that bare-knuckle boxing leaves knuckles exposed while still wrapping the rest of the hand.
When professionals are sparring, they wear heavier gloves than they would on fight night, as well as headgear. The extra padding preserves their hands, the extra weight slows punches, and the increased dimensions help boxers to cover up. The combination of wearing heavier gloves and headgear – designed to protect against head-butts and to protect eyes – is intended to encourage them to work on their skills and their art.
It was recognised over a century ago that it was barbaric for people to fight bare-knuckle, contributing to the rise of professional, gloved boxing. I don’t understand why we appear to have felt the need to go back in time, and why there are athletic commissions out there that condone us doing so. If I was asked to work as a cut-man for someone entering a bare-knuckle fight, I’d refuse.
When “Sugar” Ray Leonard suffered a detached retina, boxing responded by introducing thumbless gloves and later thumb-attached designs to protect fighters’ eyes. The sport learned from its mistakes. That was progress.
James DeGale recently returned from retirement to enter a bare-knuckle contest. I had the privilege of watching him, as a TV analyst, win Olympic gold at Beijing in 2008, and of working against him when he fought Badou Jack, when he conducted himself with class. He was a professional world champion, and an outstanding fighter whose career I wholeheartedly respect. When I saw he was fighting bare-knuckle my only question was: why?
I asked myself the same question when I saw that Paulie Malignaggi was also fighting bare-knuckle. I have the same respect for Malignaggi that I do DeGale. Without having the gift of DeGale’s power he had success in winning world titles at 140 and 147lbs, and still willingly fought the toughest of his era. He’s also a respected commentator and pundit. I had the same question as I did for DeGale: why?
I’ve asked that same question in the context of the changes being proposed to the Muhammad Ali Act. What is the Act doing that undermines anyone with good intentions? How does the act, in its present form, prevent anyone from promoting boxing so much that it needs to be amended?
Even with it in place, fighters, for generations, have been exploited. At the very least, the spirit of the Act was to protect fighters. It wasn’t foolproof, and it didn’t always succeed in its aims, but at least the intent existed. If anything, it should be tightened up to protect fighters even more than it already does.
If fighters’ interests are being weakened by changes to the Ali Act, the number of them being tempted by bare-knuckle boxing is also likely to grow, and I for one am sickened by that possibility.
Russ Anber is the founder/CEO of Rival Boxing, as well as a highly respected trainer (of both pros and amateurs), a gym owner, a cut-man, an entrepreneur, a broadcaster and one of the best hand wrappers in the boxing business. Oleksandr Usyk, Callum Smith, Zhanibek Alimkhanuly and Bakhram Murtazaliev are among the many top boxers Russ works with.
