I need to move on.’ I am proud that, although I was a young fighter, I had the courage to tell Andy. So many fighters do not tell their trainer anything, even in the gym, so they end up stifling their careers with the wrong trainer.
Maximo took me on for about a week and then said, ‘You’re punching like a girl, I’m tired of telling you the same thing about the left hook – you’re slapping the left hook. Go back to Andy.’ I told him I would get it right, so I went into the corner of the gymnasium and stood close by the wall for over an hour and a half, throwing the left hook, over and over and over, hundreds of times. Trying to get the pivot right, I had to get the angle right. Over and over, thousands of times in the corner, every day, obsessively for weeks. This was a routine of my own making – if I was ever unhappy with a particular punch or move, I would stop, retreat into the corner of the gym and repeat, repeat, repeat. Thousands of times. By the end of each little punishment session, I would be drenched in sweat. This was intense, I wouldn’t just throw the punch, I was trying to perfect every intricate detail.
So although my training with Maximo lasted only two weeks, I continued to train with him from afar. I had already been watching him work with his stable of six professional fighters from across the gym anyway. I would observe and listen to what he was saying and explaining, then mimic it myself. Even though he didn’t have the time to train me, he was, effectively, because I had a very watchful eye, which is the key to success at anything. In the end, I didn’t need him to teach me directly, all I needed to do was to watch him teach other fighters and duplicate that.
For example, when one of his fighters was sparring, I would shadow box his every move from across the gym. If he threw a right, I would evade, then counter; it was as if I was physically in the ring with the boxer. I learned so much that way. Some of Maximo’s fighters were of an excellent calibre – there was a fellow called Salano who I took a few moves from regarding escape, moving away from an opponent.
So I watched, I listened, I learned, then I repeated, reviewed and revised. Every minute detail of every move or punch was practised thousands and thousands and thousands of times. After a while, I took what I learned from Maximo and started to add my own spice, my own flavour and personality. That was when I started to evolve towards being a complete fighter. This process was equipping me in depth with the skills needed to do my job – the heart, that intangible, unquantifiable, primal factor, was another matter.
People sometimes say to me why do you have to repeat one punch so many times to perfect it? Well, these are not simple skills. It took me two years to learn how to throw the right hand. Then there’s the left hook, the right hand to the body, the left upper cut to the body, the right upper cut to the body, the right hook to the body – these punches take years and years to learn. You don’t climb through the ropes and just do it.
I was about 19 years old when I first learned how to throw body punches, that’s three years after I had first started boxing. Initially, they taught me to punch straight out, 1-2, 1-2, load up and keep on punching. Even that took ages to master, it was very hard. But I applied myself very stringently in the gym. Over months and months of repetition, I observed and criticised my every movement. I imagined taking myself out of my own body then analysing myself in minute detail from the other side of the gymnasium.
People outside of the boxing fraternity do not realise what complexity is involved in throwing just one single punch. You don’t punch from the arm or even from the shoulder. You punch from the foot. The wave of movement travels from the toe, through the foot, knee, hip and chest, sears up the arm, forearm, wrist and finally into the knuckles. Then the index knuckle and middle knuckle are the two which need to connect. These two knuckles flow from a direct line straight up your arm. The other knuckles don’t have the same support, so if you connect badly with the other two you are likely to hurt your hand. Sometimes you connect correctly with the two correct knuckles and that is the perfect punch. When that happens they just go. Lights out – good night Charlie.
If that is done correctly, which is hard enough, you then have to complete the procedure, which involves getting your fist back into the correct position by your chin, your body is pulled back into form and you are ready to go again. If you can do that meticulously, you will have probably taken two or three years to master it – and now you know just one punch. This was what I was learning all those years. I wanted to know everything.
In my first amateur fight, the referee stopped the contest after only 30 seconds . . . and declared me the loser. The guy wasn’t the same weight as me, perhaps only ten pounds heavier, but that is a big advantage in the ring. He hit me in the chest with a perfect punch and I was so startled by the weight behind it that I stuttered back and froze. I couldn’t move, so the referee stopped the fight. I won eight amateur bouts on the trot after that, all three-rounders, stoppages or decisions. My amateur career consisted of 26 fights, seven of which I lost and the remainder I won. I was already incredibly focused, but now I was beginning to develop some momentum.
One day after training, I was in the McDonald’s on 149th Street and 3rd Avenue, South Bronx. I was carrying two heavy gym bags and was leaning up against the counter where a section is hinged for staff to push up and walk out. I was looking out of the window and didn’t notice a man who worked there waiting for me to move so he could get in behind the counter. He tried to lift it which startled me, so I turned to see what was happening. He stared at me and said, ‘Move out of the way, nigger! Move out of the way!’ I said, ‘What?!’ His aggression took me by surprise, so I said, ‘What are you going to do?’ to which he replied, Oh, what? You want some? Right, if that’s the way it is, I’ll go and get my boys.’
At that point, I knew this was a situation that had to be confronted. I pulled my shoulders back and held my head up high, chest proudly puffed out. My arms dropped down by my side and as they did, the bags dropped down my arms and finally fell off the wrists, leaving me standing there in that peacock pose that I later became famous for. If you had frozen that moment in McDonald’s, it would have been no different to how I looked in the ring against Benn for the world title in 1990. That was my natural stance. A porcupine puts his spikes out, a dog growls and shows his teeth – this was my stance of protection. I never held my hands up – with my arms so low and open, the message was very clear, ‘Let’s do this, whatever you’ve got, I’ll have it.’ You’re showing that person conviction, plus you’d be surprised what you can do from that position, if you know your boxing. I think someone tipped this fellow off about the fact I was an amateur boxer, because he went out the back to get ‘his boys’ but never came back.
By the age of 18, I was sufficiently skilled to make it through to the light-middleweight final of the prestigious Spanish Golden Gloves tournament, widely seen as a testing ground for future champions. The semi-final was very tough – for the first time I sensed the flickering of white lights in my head that would have gone on to become a knock-out if I had not eluded further punishment. Fortunately, I went on to get the decision and won the light-middleweight belt. The final was just as tough. I was getting punched left, right and centre. I won because of my aggression; the judges appreciated the fact that I was always taking the fight to him. That was a landmark victory, the first rung on the ladder so to speak.
I had just gone 19 when I turned professional. I was still at Morris High School but the decision to turn pro was simple – I needed the money. I was due to earn $250 for my first fight in Atlantic City. The day you turn pro is not the day you sign the contract, or get your license, it is the day you actually fight: for me this was 3 October 1985, at the Atlantis Hotel, against Timmy Brown. I was absolutely petrified. You are taught to exude confidence in boxing, but that is something which you don’t possess at first. You hear about all these great fighters who have 35-0 records, but all you want to do is have yourself respected and win your first fight. At the time, Thomas Hearns had this awesome record and I was just astounded that anyone could be so phenomenal. He was a great champion. You’re not thinking of being champion, you just want the first win and to pocket