Should you ever go to the effort of ranking boxing alongside other sports, using all the obvious metrics, chances are it would rank somewhere near the bottom. If, for example, you looked at how it is run, the damage done, how its hierarchy is established, and the kind of characters you find in it, it would be difficult not to give it a low score and watch it trail behind sports better at concealing their black eyes.
And yet, where boxing tends to make up ground on the rest, and even overtakes them, is in that sudden moment of drama it can produce via the come-from-behind knockout. Witness just one of them and you’ll soon forget any notion of boxing being the runt of the sporting litter. In fact, for all its toxic traits, it is only in boxing that a competitor can change a losing position into a winning one within a split second and it is only in boxing that a big lead can be surrendered by the tiniest mistake.
Rare though they are, there have been enough come-from-behind knockouts by now to give us hope of seeing one whenever we sit down to watch a fight. If ever a boxer is on the brink of getting stopped, for instance, we will automatically think back to Diego Corrales recovering from two knockdowns in round 10 to drill Jose Luis Castillo to defeat in the same round. Or if we see a boxer struggling to get to grips with a more gifted technician, and losing round after round, all we need to remember is how James Toney bridged the gap against Michael Nunn, or how Jorge Castro did the same with John David Jackson.
These moments, gifts from the gods, never leave you as a boxing fan. They keep you on edge. They keep you creative in your thinking. They remind you that no matter how a fight is playing out there is always the possibility that it can change and that nothing in the ring should ever be taken for granted.
The same goes for the fighters. The more come-from-behind knockouts they witness, the more they believe that they can do something similar from a losing position. They know that for as long as they are upright and punching, there is forever a chance, so that’s what they do: they keep punching, they keep going, they keep believing. After all, what’s the alternative?
On Saturday, Fabio Wardley’s willingness to keep throwing his right hand, even when being countered and outboxed, owed a lot to both the history of come-from-behind knockouts and the power that particular punch possessed. He knew, thanks to countless past examples, that it could be done and he knew, despite his current predicament, he could do it; would do it. Even if down on the cards, and he was, never once did Wardley deviate from his belief that a single punch on the chin of Justis Huni, his opponent, would be enough. That belief started in round one and was no weaker in round 10, the round in which it became shared.
Without such power, and without him believing in it, Wardley would have likely resigned himself to his fate. Yet because Wardley knew it could be done, and because he had seen others do it, he refused to give up hope. Now, as a result, he not only kept his unbeaten record intact but added his own come-from-behind knockout to an already long list, which will in turn give other fighters the belief to keep going amid a crisis. It also gives us, the fans, a reason to keep believing. It gives us a reason to believe in the ability of a losing fighter to turn a fight on its head and it gives us reason to keep believing that magic exists in a sport at times painfully real.
Carl Thompson KO 9 Sebastian Rothmann
February 6, 2004
The first proper come-from-behind knockout I ever witnessed from ringside occurred inside a Sheffield leisure centre in 2004. It ended a cruiserweight fight, one with an IBO title on the line, and for much of the fight Carl Thompson had been smartly outboxed by Sebastian Rothmann, the champion from South Africa. Thompson had, by round nine, been dropped to the canvas, eaten countless jabs and right crosses, and had started to either wilt or sag whenever Rothmann half-landed a punch on him. This meant Thompson, all of 40, was often seen backtracking to the ropes, just for support. It also meant that many around the ring looked on with concern; first at Thompson, then at each other.
In the end, only two things helped the Bolton man that February night: one, his power, and two, his reputation. Both those things, along with his pride and courage, essentially kept him in the fight. His power kept Rothmann honest, and even helped Thompson knock the champion down in round five, while his reputation gave Thompson the benefit of the doubt at moments in which other fighters, ones not synonymous with comebacks, might have been rescued.
“In the majority of my fights I would find myself behind but then come back and show I have the ability to still win,” said Thompson. “They would all try to take me out early but nobody would ever think about what would happen if they didn’t take me out.
“I was always dangerous later in the fight, though. I did it with Terry Dunstan, Sebastian Rothmann, Akim Tafer, Massimiliano Duran. They didn’t know what kind of person I am.
“Nothing’s going to put me off or stop me unless you can keep me down. I wasn’t a great or exceptional fighter, but one thing I know I had was heart and that I could punch. There was no way anybody was going to take that away from me. I hate getting outboxed so I feel that I need to use pressure to stop them outboxing me. Before they know it, they’re working so hard to get rid of me that their energy has been sapped. I’m just constantly in an opponent’s face and catching them. They’re then getting caught more often than they would like. For my tactics to work I have to be in their face. I can’t allow them to box me and keep in their own rhythm. Even when I get caught, that’s the key pattern. Stick with it. Sap their energy.”
If Rothmann’s energy had been sapped in Sheffield, it was due largely to his inability to finish Thompson. By round nine, he was still going, still trying, but Thompson just wouldn’t fold. Even when he retreated to the ropes in that round, seemingly for the last time, Rothmann would only poke and prod Thompson, aware now of his tendency to spring back to life and throw something big in response.
Indeed, it was this caution on the part of Rothmann that afforded Thompson the time to settle on the ropes and plot his next move. It was also what allowed Thompson to sway a little, generate some momentum, and then explode with his right hand just as Rothmann thought it was safe to go back in the water.
Afterwards, Rothmann was full of regret. “I’m sorry I showboated like that,” was the first thing he said to Thompson when the pair were reunited in his changing room. “I didn’t mean any disrespect by it. I do that in all my fights. Nothing personal.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” said Thompson, standing near to him; over him. “Believe it or not, you actually helped me by doing that. I could see you smiling and poking your tongue out, and I thought, Right, this guy’s going to get it now. All those taunts just drove me on, mate.”
They both laughed at that and bumped fists – still gloved – in appreciation of what they had just shared; endured; survived.
“Maybe I need to stop doing all that stuff then,” said Rothmann, who landed face-first following Thompson’s final right hand. “I usually just do it to motivate myself, you know?”
“Exactly!” said Thompson. “I knew why you were doing it. I knew you were only doing it because you felt tired or because you were hurt. That’s why it just made me come on stronger. I loved watching you do that.”
Carl Froch KO 12 Jermain Taylor
April 25, 2009
In 2009, it was the turn of another Carl: Carl Froch.
No stranger to pre-fight nerves, Froch had, by his own admission, been a bag of them heading into a WBC super-middleweight title defence against Jermain Taylor in Mashantucket and would openly express this years later. He said that his apprehension during fight week had more to do with Taylor’s reputation as a major US boxing star than him simply headlining a big show in America for the first time. But both were new experiences for Froch and both could be attributed to him starting the fight slowly and then experiencing another first when he was dropped by Taylor in round three.
“I panicked against Jermain Taylor, because it was the first time I’d ever been put down and I didn't know how to deal with it,” said Froch, who glanced at his corner on one knee and rose at the count of seven. “I got hit by the shot, put down and thought to myself, Bollocks, so this is what it feels like to be knocked down.
“It wasn’t a shot that particularly hurt me. I have been hurt – not as in ‘ouch’ hurt, but mind scrambled – by other shots in my career and stayed up. There have been times when I’ve felt dizzy and my legs have gone from shots that people haven’t even picked up on. The Taylor one put me down because it was a hurtful shot in a sense, but it was also more of a balance thing. I was just about to chuck a right hand of my own, my body weight twisted and changed, and Taylor hit me at the point where my leg bent. I went over fairly easily as a result, but not because it was the biggest shot I’d ever taken. It was more of a circumstantial thing.
“My head was totally clear when I was on the floor. I looked over at Rob [McCracken, trainer] as if to say, what the hell just happened there? I took the eight count, stood up, and as I was standing I thought to myself, Are my legs gone right now? Remember, I’d never been here before, so I wasn't entirely sure how you were supposed to feel at a moment like that. Everybody talks about how you need to cling on and buy time after a knockdown because your head isn’t clear and your legs are unsteady, but I wasn’t sure what state I was in. I felt reasonably good. I did a little bounce just to make sure, smiled, and then beckoned Taylor in for some more. It was at that point that I realized my legs were okay and I’d got off lightly.”
More concerning than the knockdown that night was the ease with which Taylor was able to then control Froch behind his jab and regularly nail him with quick left hooks and overhand rights. Soon into the fight, in fact, it became clear that Taylor had the upper hand and that only his propensity to fade late would give the American reason to worry. That habit, combined with Froch’s stamina and his thudding power, was also the only thing that gave Froch any hope of catching up, which he was still trying to do with a minute left in the final round.
It was then, with just 14 seconds to go, he actually did it. He caught up.
“To be honest,” Froch said, “if against Taylor I was given the choice of having those final two rounds or just stopping after 10, I’m not sure what route I would have taken. The winner in me wants to reverse the scorecards and knock this man out, but the hurt, tired and bruised fighter in me just wants to go home at that stage – so long as I could still claim a win. If his corner had pulled him out at that stage and the ref waved it off, I would have been elated not to have to go through with those final two rounds, despite the fact I was on top and beating him up at that stage. Really, even when you’re in the ascendancy, it’s not fun fighting three minutes from bell to bell, well aware that one punch can change everything.”
When recalling the fight at Foxwoods, it would have been quite easy for Froch to paint himself as Julio Cesar Chavez and compare Jermain Taylor to his namesake, Meldrick. However, Froch, for once and to his credit, passed up the chance to be a hero. Instead, he spoke with a sincerity seldom heard when a boxer is asked to recall one of their toughest nights.
“Fighters like to say that they want to finish fights of their own accord and score a conclusive knockout or stoppage, but, if given the choice, I’d always take the other option and get out as quickly as I can,” Froch said. “If I’m honest, I wasn’t really enjoying it at that late stage in the Taylor fight. Obviously, I was happy I was turning it around and had him hurt, but I wasn’t enjoying it in the same way a footballer might enjoy a game of football or a tennis player enjoys a game of tennis. I didn’t want to prolong the action just because I was dominant. You’ll never get that in boxing. If somebody offers you the chance to get out early with a win, you take it every day of the week.”
Leigh Wood KO 12 Michael Conlan
March 12, 2022
While Carl Froch may question the honesty, or sanity, of any boxer who claims to “enjoy” snatching victory from the jaws of defeat in round 12, that still doesn’t change the fact that there is no sight more dramatic or cinematic.
Not only that, to summon the energy required at that point in a fight is surely the true test of any fighter’s self-belief. By then, after all, a boxer is typically exhausted, perhaps even at peace with their fate. If they are down on the scorecards, it must be incredibly difficult for them to then find the passion and indeed the punch to do anything about it in round 12.
“They [knockouts] do tend to come at a crucial time for me,” said Leigh Wood, laughing. “Especially the [Michael] Conlan one. That was quite poetic you could say because in round one I got dropped and his dad and brother came banging on the canvas wanting to stop the fight. Then I took a bit of a pasting and got to round 12 and landed the shot that switched him off. Then, as he fell through the ropes, who else but his dad and brother to catch him.
“When I landed the Conlan shot, it was such a peach of a shot; as it connected it went up my arm. I just put a few more in for good measure, but I knew that it was over.”
From Wood’s perspective, the 12th-round finish of Conlan in 2022 was the perfect bookend to a thrilling featherweight battle in Belfast. Eleven rounds prior, he had been knocked down heavily by Conlan and most at that stage expected the fight to conclude either in that round, the first, or the following round. When it then became clear that it wouldn’t finish early, the next most likely scenario was that Wood would simply be outboxed by Conlan, who, until he wasn’t, was boxing as well as he had ever boxed.
“It was when I started doing an ‘arm pump’ at the end of the round – either six or seven – that I had seen the tide change,” Wood recalled. “I had started to impose myself on him and the game plan started to work.
“If you look at round one, I came out and pushed him back. I got a bit relaxed because it got a bit too easy pushing him back. Then I got caught by that daft shot.
“When I finally got back to my game plan, though, he was very easy to push back again. He wasn’t a big puncher and he didn’t have much to keep me off. He didn’t want to be anywhere near me. When he went to the ropes, he’d either hold or duck really low.
“I stuck to the body work more, which was part of the game plan, and those big body shots were just chipping away. Eventually he was trying to hold after taking them. If the head’s not there, you just hit the body, and that’s what I did.
“By round 10 he was not only holding on but planting his hands behind my back and I was trying to shake him off. There was a moment in the 10th or 11th when the referee said, ‘Stop, come here,’ and he talked to us and I thought, He’s [Conlan] getting a good 20-second break here. But it just prolonged the inevitable.”
When Leigh Wood talks about the “inevitable” what he means is the stunning final-round finish he produced with his right hand. It was inevitable, to him at least, on account of how the fight had started to swing in his favour and how his emotions during it reflected this change. It was also inevitable due to the number of times Wood had practised that particular punch before calling on it.
“It was a shot we drilled,” he said. “When Mick goes to the ropes, he does this old-school guard where he goes right to left with his glove, trying to block stuff. So I flicked it away with my left hand, then nailed him with my right hand once he stopped.
“We literally drilled that hundreds of times. Ben [Davison, trainer] was screaming that to me two rounds before then. If you look at Ben when Mick’s holding me, he’s gesturing for me to do that when he’s against the ropes.
“I was pushing him back and he was very fatigued, which was down to the body work. I feinted, which was all part of the drill, flicked that left up top, he stopped moving, and then I nailed him.”
Wood stopped for breath.
“When you come through a fight like that – a real test of endurance, character, heart, guts – there’s no better feeling,” he added. “It’s the best feeling.”
