Walking the Walk: DeGale Announces His Arrival in Liverpool
James DeGale appears to have undersold his act. The braggadocios Harlesden man showed outrageous talent on Saturday evening in outclassing hardy scrapper Paul Smith, controlling the action throughout nine eye popping sessions and in doing so, harvested the British super middleweight title in only his ninth professional contest.
One couldn’t help but drift back to 1995 (has it really been that long?) to when the equally precocious Naseem Hamed performed a similar skinning on away ground against domestic top man Steve Robinson. His ascension to the domestic ladder’s top rung took place in his twentieth outing, in a bout which had been dressed up as a “world title” clash by promoter Frank Warren (a tad fanciful when one recalls that Robinson grabbed the belt in the first place by defeating shopworn Geordie trier John Davison in Washington, Tyne & Wear). It was perhaps the Sheffield starlet’s finest hour, one which led to comparisons with the king of the sport at that particular time, the Floridian genius Roy Jones. Whilst DeGale didn’t quite top that for a coronation, goodness only knows where he’ll be once he’s tallied a comparable number of fights.
DeGale was as smooth as a freshly waxed Des Lynam. Interviewed in his locker room just prior to the off, he lolled in his seat like a tranquilised sloth – relaxed is not nearly the word. That soon changed come fight time though, as he sauntered into the Echo Arena to be faced with a mob lively enough to have roused Moose Miller. In control from the get go, DeGale rattled through his repertoire in its entirety, showing class, rhythm and poise to take the opening two rounds and make a mockery of his rookie tag in the process.
As Smith trundled forward, looking to burrow his way inside before letting fly with overhand rights and lefts underneath, DeGale speared him with his jab, dug punches into each of his flanks and outsped the champion every which way but loose. After a determined third, Smith inevitably began to bleed in the very next session after a head clash brought about a nick over his right eye, yet the gritty Scouser has probably encountered worse in the bathroom mirror of a morning, and its impact was negligent. Smith landed a good right hand towards the end of the fifth, yet “Chunky” remained the man in the box seat.
DeGale’s punch picking inside was intricate and deft yet backed up with a roughness which brought about a rebuke from referee Howard Foster. Despite the home corner imploring their man to drag the young upstart into a tear up, it was Degale who was dealing out most of the rough stuff. He repeatedly pulled Smith onto punches, was a tad scurrilous with his head and slammed in a couple of low blows for good measure, a transgression which earned Smith a brief respite, during which he appeared to be pondering why in the name of Robbie Fowler he’d ever picked up this new marvel’s gauntlet in the first place.
The Londoner wasn’t content with merely winning the fight, rather he seemed hell bent on mastering Smith whichever way the champion wanted to phrase the argument, whilst opening up his portfolio for all to see. Check left hooks, two handed body attacks, switch hitting, swift and scything punches thrown in wicked combination, has an eight fight novice ever fought like this?
Smith took an extended peppering against the strands in the eighth. DeGale, a most shrewd sort to be sure, began to throw hair-trigger counters whenever the local man attempted to tuen his fortunes around with a power shot. Smith went for a wind-taker to the midriff in the ninth, yet was clocked before he could even see the punch through, precipitating an extended working over on the ropes. Smith snarled back tenaciously, yet with around two minutes gone in the round he fell for the same routine once again. A sublime counter left hook sent Smith’s head spinning and as DeGale chased him into his own corner, a barrage of follow up hooks brought referee Foster’s a-little-too-quick-off-the-mark intervention. Smith protested whilst DeGale postured, and the rest of us were left to sit back and take note at what this cocksure young man had achieved.
Before he’d even had a chance to hit the showers, DeGale was chided with the name of his nemesis George Groves, who now stands a very good chance of meeting the new champ in 2011. “Ugly kid”, as DeGale insists on addressing his former club mate will, he promised, be dealt with swiftly. Groves’ trainer Adam Booth, who was instantly dragged in front of the Sky cameras in Vegas (well done Sky) disagreed, yet on recent form, it’s difficult to make a case for the shaky looking Hammersmith bomber. Groves, the crowd pleasing puncher with vulnerable whiskers and DeGale, the brash yet innovative showman, young stars with a seething rivalry so often compared to the Nigel Benn-Chris Eubank hatefest from yesteryear, could hardly have auditioned more adeptly for the remake.
Tony Bellew’s stock slipped for the second fight in succession after he was forced to dust off his pants twice in order to secure victory over Ovill McKenzie. Bellew, who fancies himself as an intimidating hitman type, took a seat in the opener after McKenzie tagged him with a right hand behind his left ear. Worse was to follow in the second as McKenzie launched a huge right which flung Bellew onto his side like a crash test dummy thrown from a rear window.
Bellew showed toughness to carry on and in round eight he landed a sledgehammer left hook which flattened Mckenzie hard. The Derby man clambered to his feet yet he wasn’t afforded the faintest chance to regroup. No sooner had referee Phil Edwards waved them together to resume battle, he inexplicably jumped back between them to stop the fight, leaving McKenzie high and dry and visibly hard done to. It was god awful refereeing and it is to be hoped Edwards will be taken to task over his actions (although I won’t hold my breath). Bellew is game enough but his career is beginning to resemble that of his trainer Anthony Farnell, which is reason alone to consider a rethink.
Elsewhere, Nathan Cleverly and Matthew Macklin chipped chunks away from their reputations with desultory decision victories over unheralded opposition. Welterweight Kell Brook, meanwhile, blew out Philip Kotey inside two rounds. Brook clearly needs a test, and quickly, in order to fend off the type of apathy which can leave a career circling the flotsam and jetsam.
(For previous articles, please use the archives tab at the head of the page).
Leave a Reply
Blog at WordPress.com. Theme: Duotone by Automattic.
