For many of us, all knowledge of Anthony Joshua’s tragic car accident in December came via the phones of other people. Strangers. Yet it was from these strangers we had no sense of kindness, not even in the sharing of information. Instead, the only thing more shocking than what we saw in their recordings was the fact that their first thought in the face of tragedy was to take out their phones and start filming.
As if somehow normal, justifiable behaviour, soon each of these strangers was standing around capturing footage of Joshua emerging from a mangled vehicle, clearly dazed and hurt. Not content with that, they then panned away from the vehicle to grab footage of Joshua’s friends, Sina Ghami and Latif Ayodele, lying dead on the ground; their dignity preserved only by pixelation once the images had been shared online.
As usual, we saw too much – too much for our eyes and brains to handle. Less a crime scene than a feeding frenzy, it was one more Nightcrawler moment in a world full of them, with decency exchanged for clout. “Forget that two human beings had just died in the collision, how could we now make this situation work for us?” was, sadly, a view shared by many at that time. It began with the Nigerian locals who gathered around to film the scene and it then continued with the way the story was covered in the days and weeks to follow by those who should probably know better.
Sure enough, if it wasn’t tricky enough avoiding widely shared clips of dead men on the ground, one had to also avoid all the misinformation concerning who had been killed, who had been driving, and what the future now held for Joshua. Almost as bad as that was the speed at which people were willing to speculate, or just comment on a situation that had no real bearing on them. Day after day there would be some fresh update about Joshua’s health, his state of mind, and his future plans. One day his injuries were so severe his boxing career was in jeopardy and the next he could think of no better way of paying tribute to his fallen friends than by returning to the ring and honouring their names. One day Eddie Hearn, his promoter, was sold on the idea of Joshua retiring, having presumably realised what matters in life, and the next he was teasing the possibility of a return at some point.
In fairness to Hearn, one can only imagine the number of invasive and inappropriate messages and calls he had to entertain during that difficult period. Time, after all, was seemingly of the essence and nobody in an attention economy wants to be left behind. If that meant speculating, so be it. If it meant pestering people close to Joshua to get some click-worthy headline or update an ongoing story, so be it. All is permissible nowadays, such is the John Furyfication of the boxing beat. If you’re not doing it, and not behaving this way, what exactly are you doing?
Even Joshua, the traumatised 36-year-old at the centre of all this, was resigned to participating in some shape or form. In fact, it wasn’t that long before he too had reached for his phone and contributed to the flow of publicity. There was first a six-minute video message delivered directly to camera, and then later we had clips of him training, which served only to stoke the fire of a potential comeback.
It is hard, without being close to Joshua, to know whether breaking off bits of himself for the public like this was something he wanted to do, or was instead prompted to do, but either way it felt too soon. Is it even possible for one to process an experience as harrowing as that so quickly? How does one find the words? Do those words have to then be aired publicly just because the person in question is a public figure?
Regardless, Joshua bravely put himself out there and thus more stories were written about him and more pressure was applied on him to provide new twists in a tragic tale. That’s why we had live-streamed footage of him breaking down at his friends’ funeral on January 4. It’s also why this week we have seen footage of Joshua celebrating Mother’s Day with his friends’ mothers and read reports suggesting a fight against Tyson Fury on Netflix has been agreed. Again, however it came about, it felt like too much. Too much information. Too much interest. All too soon.
As it turns out, the rumours regarding a Fury fight have been refuted by Eddie Hearn, meaning there was no reason to be unduly concerned. That’s not to say Joshua won’t still end up fighting Fury, of course, but hopefully, if it does happen, it won’t feel so rushed. He won’t feel so rushed. It was, after all, less than four months ago that Joshua cheated death only to see the dead bodies of his two friends on the ground as he climbed to safety. Already, it could be argued, we have seen too much of him. Heard too much from him. Expected too much from him. Demanded too much of him. Perhaps, with no right to his privacy, it’s best that we now curb our worst impulses – speed, clicks, content – and just sit, shut up, and wait for a bit. Perhaps that’s a better way to go about this situation: to see Joshua as a human first, boxer second, clickbait third.
If only we weren’t so desperate, all of us. Were that the case, boxing, the industry, would not have to rely on Joshua’s grieving process to “do numbers” and Joshua, in turn, would be allowed to live like a human being for a while without fear of being forgotten or missing out on opportunities in what is, we are constantly reminded, a “short career”.
Indeed, it would be nice to think that if we learned anything from those snuff videos doing the rounds in late December it would be that: compassion. Perspective, too. Because it’s all short: a career, a life, relevance, attention spans. We should accept this now and try to act accordingly.
How that looks in 2026, I can’t say, but what I can say is that sometimes – in this situation and most – it’s better to keep your phone in your pocket and engage your brain for once. Sometimes it’s better to wait, even step away, and view the situation through the eyes of someone else. That used to be known as empathy. It used to be the human response.
