It sounded like the setup to a joke, with the punchline to follow. The joke: Ever hear the one about the boxer who retired after just one fight?
As it turned out, there was no punchline. It was real. Delicious Orie, a 1-0 heavyweight prospect from Great Britain, had used Instagram to announce his retirement from boxing a mere seven weeks after making his pro debut.
The only thing more surprising than that was the reaction to it. If Orie, a one-time Olympian, had feared any sort of criticism or mockery, that fear was thankfully misplaced. Instead, once people realised that it was not a joke, and there would be no punchline, he received the kind of appreciation and respect a boxer typically receives for a display of bravery or acumen. In Orie’s case, it was for the latter. Or maybe, on reflection, it was for both. Maybe Orie, in quitting when he did, and having the courage to do it, showed not only a level of intelligence, or at least foresight, beyond that of his peers, but also a certain bravery, if only for accepting he had made a wrong decision and then doing something about it.
After all, to varying degrees each of us are guilty of sticking with something longer than we should for fear of the repercussions of ending it. This could be a job, a relationship, or a Zoom call. Whatever it is, often what causes a person to endure is a lack of courage and conviction and the unknown that inevitably follows any major change.
In retiring when he has, Orie knows his future will be an uncertain one, but he has a degree in Economics and Management and a desire to enter the corporate world, so has accepted the challenge. He is also someone for whom boxing professionally was never a given once his amateur days were over. Back then, Orie, by his own admission, was torn between making a go of it as a pro boxer and entering the world of pro wrestling. Back then, the signs were obvious to anybody paying attention.
“Over time, I’ve come to recognise that the same fire and love I once had for boxing gradually faded,” Orie, 27, wrote on social media this week. “As I’ve grown, I’ve come to value clarity and honesty with myself above all. I hoped that turning professional would reignite the passion, but the truth has become clear: it hasn’t. Every fighter knows you need a deep love for the craft to reach the top – and without it, there’s no path forward.
“Out of respect for the sport and for myself, it’s time to step away with honesty.”
For obvious reasons, the timing of Orie’s retirement statement is important. Not only has it come early in his career, therefore mitigating the damage, but it comes at a time when boxing is in a state of flux and the pathway for an amateur star to make it as a pro is no longer as clear and straightforward as it once was. Now, with all roads leading to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, and with powerless promoters more interested in the present than the future, the journey for an amateur star turning pro has never seemed longer or more convoluted. Even for someone like Orie, who has an interesting name and decent pedigree, there were no guarantees as a pro. There were no guarantees that, one, he would make it, and two, anybody would care enough or be patient enough to let him show what he can do.
Also on the subject of timing, one cannot ignore the fact that Orie’s retirement announcement arrived on the same day that Ginjiro Shigeoka underwent brain surgery following a loss to Pedro Taduran in Japan. That alone should provide vindication for both Orie and any other boxer questioning their career choice.
In addition to that, Tuesday was the day that Doncaster’s Dave Allen expressed an interest in fighting Deontay Wilder, the former WBC heavyweight champion who turns 40 this year. Allen, of course, has had a fairly up-and-down, uncertain relationship with boxing and announced his own retirement back in 2021. He has since then returned, as so many do, but his comments regarding the business side of the sport and the damage the sport has done to him are still hard to shake and forget.
In many ways, testimonies like Allen’s will help newcomers like Orie turn pro free of the delusion that fuels those debutants who prefer to disregard the signs. They then take on even greater meaning, these testimonies, when the very person who issued them is lured back despite knowing everything he knows.
It's not just Dave Allen. Others have said similar and at the time meant it, too. Besides, with or without those testimonies, there’s enough information out there now for boxers to enter the sport with both eyes open and know exactly what it is they are about to receive – physically as well as financially. Even the most ignorant of boxers will have an appreciation for how damage works and how it grows and spreads with time. We have evidence now; case studies. We also have books on the subject and countless articles written about it.
In fact, with knowledge only increasing, boxing now fights the same battle fast food chains face in 2025. Though it remains popular on account of how addictive it is, and its accessibility, some will now choose to avoid it due to all the information available and the understanding that it is bad for them.
In the end, you see, there is no protection from both the truth and the inevitable. In boxing, you get punched in the head and this naturally does damage to the brain and one’s ability to function. In return, and if lucky enough, you might be well compensated and you might reach a level of fame that will trick you into thinking it will never end. But that still doesn’t alter the details of the exchange. Nor the reality of what you must give in order to take.
It is for that reason the sport’s horror stories, of which there are plenty, act as vital cautionary tales. For if from the outset a boxer is under no illusion about what the sport entails, they can at least then make a rational decision as to whether they want to compete or not. Also, when the moment then arrives for them to call it quits, they will hopefully be less inclined to wonder why nobody cares and why there is so little help out there for retired fighters. Because boxing, for all the good it can do, functions no differently than any other job when a worker is deemed surplus to requirements. The money stops and so too does the interest and concern. If you don’t realise this by now, that’s on you.
For some, the silence and uncertainty is worse than the damage done to them by the sport. Oliver McCall, for instance, is set to have his 78th professional fight on June 3 and is now 60 – yes, sixty – years of age. All in all, the “Atomic Bull” has been a professional heavyweight since 1985 – some 40 years – and has dedicated both his life and brain to this one single pursuit. Unlike Orie, a man of youth and a man of options, it is at this point too late for McCall to do anything else, think of anything else, or pretend he is anything else. This is it now for McCall. He is to be a boxer until the very end and is prepared to live and die by the rules of the game and the choices he has made.
For his service, and for demonstrating such longevity, McCall might expect more people to watch, admire and respect him at the age of 60. However, all he gets is their concern and their pity. It is interesting, too, in light of how Orie’s decision to quit after just one fight has been received. Perhaps, in a sense, it suggests progress in terms of how we view courage and toughness in 2025. Or perhaps McCall is simply at the stage now where his obsession with boxing, and his fear of stopping, has led to him being seen as a somewhat delusional character, one whose capacity to keep going in old age is considered not admirable but instead comical. It could be that McCall is the joke. The joke: Ever hear the one about the boxer who cleans both his gum shield and his dentures following a fight? Or it could be that boxing, the world’s worst care home, is forever the joke. If so, the joke writes itself.