Watching George Groves’ European title triumph over the brave but outgunned Christophe Rebrasse was enjoyable for many reasons: a fight involving a British boxer I have a soft spot for, a genuine title being contested, and the successful return of a young fighter after failing in the fire of truly top-flight competition. Yet one thing irked me about the whole affair, and it wasn’t Groves’ insistence on setting a manic pace that for a few rounds looked as if it might undo him, trying to flatten a man with a chin made of concrete and letting his boxing become ragged and disorganised in the process. No.
Every time the corner-work was being shown, Groves’ trainer Paddy Fitzpatrick alternately berated and directed his charge in clear, emphatic fashion, his tone implying that he would brook no objections. Even though it was incisive, informative and concise, the kind of insider ?colour? the corner microphone was invented for (apart from for maybe catching Panama Lewis saying ?No, gimme the other bottle, the one I mixed” in Aaron Pryor’s first fight with Alexis Arguello, and then doing nothing about it), I couldn’t fully concentrate because of Paddy’s insistence on wearing a fedora he had obviously stolen from Madame Tussaud’s waxwork of Humphrey Bogart. I half expected him to turn to the crowd and nod to the resurrected corpse of Lauren Bacall ringside, possibly whilst she was being menaced by Peter Lorre.
Quite apart from the fact that no-one these days can wear a hat, instead falling into the trap of being worn by it?the difference between wearing a hat and, self-consciously, Wearing A Hat, as Michael Bywater put it?Paddy’s excursion into titfer territory is just the latest example of corner-men who appear to think they’ve escaped from an A. J. Liebling article circa 1952.
I truly believe there’s a distinct possibility that the hat was the reason why Groves appeared distracted and seemed to ignore Fitzpatrick’s advice in some of the later rounds; the poor bastard was probably, like me, mesmerised by the sharpness of the snap-brim that was constantly being thrust into his face every time Paddy leaned forward for emphasis. Written across his features in the late rounds as tiredness set in could almost be read the words: ?Why the fuck is Edward G. Robinson in my corner, shouting at me??
Boxrec News therefore happily presents this handy print-out-and-keep sartorial guide to boxing corner-work, because for some trainers (and cutmen!) merely training a fighter and seconding them during a fight is not enough: sometimes, you just have to dress up like a tit whilst you’re doing it. Somewhere, if there is an afterlife, Eddie Futch is shaking his head reprovingly. And he’s not wearing a f***ing hat.
1: Pablo Sarmiento
Former gatekeeper Sarmiento, from Argentina, gave up being bashed about by decent Yank and Latino lightweights and came over here to cut a swathe through Britain’s light-welters for various Mickey Mouse baubles about a decade ago. He recently made a return to British TV screens in the corner of Kiko Martinez as the Spaniard surrendered his IBF superbantam title to Ireland’s Carl Frampton. As ever with Sarmiento, plastered across his mug was his trademark pair of shades, which he insists on wearing whether he’s indoors, outdoors, or in the pitch-black dark. I can only assume he picked up this unfortunate habit from his brother, Gabriel, when he took over as trainer of then-world middleweight champion Sergio Gabriel Martinez in 2011. Rumours that Gabriel?who was arrested by INTERPOL and extradited to Spain to face aggravated battery charges?attacked someone because they told him he looked a dickhead wearing those bins indoors are unsubstantiated but extremely likely.
2: Buddy McGirt
Ah, Buddy. You know when a fighter scores an unlikely win or mounts a successful comeback, and the media focus falls squarely not on clever matchmaking or coincidence or other extenuating circumstances but on the dude holding the mitts, as if they were the Second Coming of Ray Arcel and Whitey Bimstein rolled into one (Nota Bene: neither wore hats in the corner), and then everyone and his dog signs with him and then the losses start piling up and the intense media scrutiny reveals that his sage advice comes from the Yoel Judah School Of Exciting Between-Rounds Cheer-leading And Explosion Noises and then the unfortunate becomes derided on message-boards and fans start making huge bets the other way whenever it’s revealed he’s working in the corner?
I call that ?Buddy McGirt Syndrome?. Which is kinda unfair, because McGirt?before being credited with the rather unlikely transformation of face-first popular slugger Arturo Gatti into a clone of Sugar Ray Robinson, because Gatti had managed to outpoint Micky Ward, a feat achieved at the time only by another eleven guys?was a damn good light-welterweight and welterweight champion, a tough, slick ring mechanic with the sweetest counter left hook you could wish to see.
Unfortunately, his limitations as a trainer are compounded by his insistence on wearing Day-Glo orange Space Glasses, no matter the time of day or night. I think he might have some sort of condition whereby everything needs to be shaded the colour of Lucozade, perhaps for religious reasons.
3: Freddie Roach
Formerly a tough journeyman at featherweight and lightweight, Roach was trained by the aforementioned Eddie Futch before that worthy split with him, allegedly because Freddie ignored Futch’s advice to retire because Roach was already showing signs of Parkinson’s Disease but possibly because Eddie refused to wear a hat in the corner. Yet Roach has gone on to become one of the most successful trainers in modern boxing, taking Manny Pacquiao to multiple championships and playing a large part in the resurrection of Amir Khan following the Briton’s savage first-round loss to Breidis Prescott. Lately, however, the Hall of Fame trainer’s fortunes have seemed to flag, with high-profile desertions from his camp and Pacquiao’s career seeming to be winding down. I blame the fact that, between rounds, he has taken to wearing these:
This type of headgear should really only be sported if you are either a kamikaze pilot or a member of the entourage of Julio Cesar Chavez (the real one, natch) circa 1990. Roach, I believe, is neither, and despite being responsible for training Chavez’s fat, drug-cheat son, really should be told to knock it off with the bandannas.
The last time I saw Roach in a big fight was when he was directing Miguel Angel Cotto’s ascension to the world middleweight championship this summer; he didn’t wear the headband-thing. Cotto won in nine rounds. Draw your own conclusions.
4: Cassius Green
Cassius Green will not be remembered for his work patching up Shane Mosley’s cuts during Mosley’s welterweight championship days. He will, however, always be remembered for stealing Cap’n Birdseye’s hat, and never, ever taking it off.
