The life of the potential boxing champion is one fraught with danger. In tennis Andy Murray or Roger Federer can lose heavily one day and go on to compete at the highest level weeks later. The win/loss record, sadly, defines the modern boxing prospect. Unlike the 1940’s or 50’s damaging losses on his record are just that, hammer blows to his credibility and most importantly his marketability. In an age of diminishing opportunities for top-level fighters, the few who reach the very top of the pay-per-view boxing tree invariably sport glossy records, free from the taint of embarrassing losses. However, boxing a sport in desperate need of marketable young blood often burdens its brightest stars with crippling expectations that can never be met. Sometime relative success is just not enough.
The Pressures of Potential Greatness Take Their Toll
Mark Breland was arguably the most highly touted boxing prospect of the modern age. A stellar amateur and one of the standout performers in the USA’s record-breaking 1984 boxing team Breland sported a 110-1 amateur log. This along with his Olympic gold medal, World Amateur title and five New York Golden Gloves crowns saddled his pro career with a crippling burden of expectation.
This report has examined the dangers of cautious matchmaking but often a great prospect can be the victim of their own success, being moved too quickly and thrown into deeper waters before they have fully adapted to the professional game. Breland challenged for the world title in only his seventeenth fight, defeating ageing South African Harold Volbrecht for the vacant WBA title in 1987. At 6’2’’ and freakishly skinny for a welterweight Mark was not allowed to grow into the professional ranks. In becoming a world champion so quickly he had clearly not been given the chance to learn his trade fully.
Unluckily for Breland his first defence was against the redoubtable Marlon Starling, a defensively sound, teak tough opponent, who had twice extended the peak Don Curry the distance. Starling had a wealth of professional experience, accumulated in almost fifty fights against the best men in the Welterweight division. History shows that Breland, for all his skills and heart was unable to withstand Starling’s late charge, losing his title by shocking knockout in the eleventh round.
Breland was to go on to win back a portion of the Welterweight crown and make a number of impressive defences before losing to Aaron Davis and retiring. However, his career, burdened by expectations that Atlas would have struggled to shoulder, is perceived as a failure.
Boxing is a Sport That Judges its Fighters quickly
Boxing is a sport and sports fans often indulge in hype unnecessarily. Fighters are lauded to the heavens on the basis of early career wins only to receive excoriating criticism when they prove more Bluto than Popeye. Tyson Fury was seen as the saviour of the British Heavyweight scene in racing to a 7-0 (7) start to his professional career. His name built up on a tide of easy knockout victories. However, after a couple of desultory performances (albeit wins) in distance fights Fury has been effectively written off.
Even Mike Tyson has suffered as revisionist historians have reassessed his fistic legacy. All the early victories and titles accrued are now viewed through the skewed light of his later failings and indiscretions. Only in boxing can a late career drop in performance so markedly affect a fighters standing in history. Who in football judges George Best for his performances in American Soccer or criticises Sinatra for his tuneless musings in Vegas long into his dotage?
Olympic Champions are Prone to Heightened Expectations
Olympic boxing champions are often saddled with unachievable expectations. Consider the careers of Breland alongside those of fellow gold medallists such as Andrew Maynard, Paul Gonzales and Audley Harrison. Winning an Olympic medal places the boxing prospect under the harshest of microscopes. Every fight is analysed, every mistake dissected and losses are simply not tolerated. For every Meldrick Taylor or Pernell Whitaker who reach the very top of the tree there are fighters like Jerry Page or Robert Wangila (1988 Welterweight gold medallist) who fail to realise their potential.
Often it is simply a matter of style and approach. Wangila as an amateur was immensely powerful and over the course of a nine-minute fight was supremely difficult to fend off. His Olympic tournament featured highlight reel knockouts of fighters of the calibre of Laurent Bouduani, who went on to enjoy a far more successful professional career. However, Robert’s amateur performances masked a defensive frailty and inability to take punishment that was exploited in the professional ranks. Wangila went 22-5 as a professional, though all of his defeats were by knockout. Tragically his final fight led to the blood clot that claimed his life.
Paul Gonzales (1984 Light-Flyweight champion) was another whose style, like Breland’s, was more suited to the amateur game. A beautiful boxer without a punch can wrack up countless victories in the unpaid ranks though will struggle to find a support base in the professional game. Some highly lauded amateurs like Kelcie Banks and Jorge Luis Gonzales simply remained as amateurs for too long and could not adapt their styles to the more unremitting professional code.
Boxing Thrives on the Expectations of its Fan Base
Yet the conveyor belt of Olympic talent will continue to produce professional prospects. In Britain it explains why the performances of first Audley Harrison and now James de Gale are poured over and often found wanting. Sometimes a prospect is seen as too good to be true, when it sadly turns out to be true the public and the boxing press are rarely reticent in heaping on scorn where once approbation flowed. If De Gale is to avoid the fate of men such as Shawn O’Sullivan (an Olympic medallist once seen as the saviour of Canadian boxing) he will have to continually confound his critics, squaring the circle of expectation, while constantly wracking up the wins.
Join the Conversation