In the event of discomfort or awkwardness, it is customary among Brits to discuss the weather. This is perhaps so because it is ever-changing and because there are variations of it and because one must always be prepared and carry with them intel which can, when required, be passed on to others. More than that, weather becomes the pickaxe with which we break ice because it is, in times of panic, solid ground, the only thing to instantly connect strangers.
Meet someone for the first time, for instance, and often one’s first thought is to bring up the weather. Equally, there are some people you might have known for years, relatives even, with whom there is nothing but the weather to discuss, so great are your differences, so great the chasm. It is always there, the weather. Even if it cannot be trusted to stay consistent, its use as a conversation topic never fails.
Given this, I couldn’t help but question why nobody bothered to ask Daniel Dubois, a British heavyweight, about the weather this week in Manchester. Instead, to open him up, they opted to ask him about serious stuff, stuff to do with his next fight, without once taking into account the fact that Dubois is (a) British and (b) socially awkward.
In light of such knowledge, surely it would have made sense to employ the tactic most employ when dealing with British people whose conversation skills leave a lot to be desired. Surely there was a way of easing Dubois in gently and not rushing him so quickly towards a subject he clearly had no interest in discussing.
“Nice day for it, isn’t it?” would have been a good throwaway comment to start. It would have worked only if the weather justified it, of course, but often this phrase, when used, will elicit a wry smile from both the person saying it and the person hearing it. From there you could start the interrogation. You could, for example, ask Dubois whether he prefers it when it is hot or cold; another subject Brits like to debate ad nauseam. Chances are, like any proud Brit, he would reveal to you that he likes the hot weather, but then bemoan the fact that sometimes it can get “too hot” and that Britain, sadly, lacks the infrastructure to cope with “too hot”. Following that, you could perhaps ask Dubois for his thoughts on wind, or light drizzle, and have him try to recall the weather that time he won his WBA “Regular” heavyweight title by beating Trevor Bryan in a Miami casino in June. “Bet it was hot out there, wasn’t it?” you could say, and he would appreciate the question, no doubt, if only because it takes him back, reminds him of good times: the first major title win, the Miami heat.
Stick to that line of questioning and you would probably be fine, so failproof is the weather as a talking point. In fact, should you go down that route, the only potential risk would come from asking Dubois if he has checked the forecast for Saturday ahead of his fight against Fabio Wardley in Manchester. To that, he would likely say, “No,” and your error then would be to say to him, “Well, I have,” and provide the following information: “It will be 16 degrees, by all accounts, with a 65 per cent chance of precipitation. That’s a shame, isn’t it? Puts a bit of a downer on things. Still, at least you’ll be indoors.”
Suddenly now, because you have brought up the fight, and because you have in every sense rained on his parade, the expression on the face of Daniel Dubois could match the one we saw this week whenever forced to answer questions he wished were never asked. Just as he said to DAZN, he might say to you: “Do I need to do this interview? Let’s cancel it.” Or he might say: “He’s taking the piss, innit. He’s taking the fucking piss.” Or, as he said on The Ariel Helwani Show, he might say: “I don’t even know why you’re bringing that up. What are you trying to say, man? This is getting awkward right now. Let’s turn this shit off.”
On both those occasions Dubois had had enough, so walked off/logged off. He wasn’t asked anything particularly challenging or offensive, but was, it seemed, just tired of it all and happy to utilise the power he now has as someone known for their dislike of media engagements. One nervous chuckle from Dubois and that was it, he was gone, leaving his interviewers bemused by the speed with which awkwardness had turned to simmering rage.
Indeed, only on reflection, having watched the clips back a couple of times, did a common theme emerge. The theme, loose at best, had to do with negativity and a reluctance to dwell on it. With the DAZN interview, Dubois apparently couldn’t fathom how being asked to name the things he disliked about boxing seconds after being asked to name the things he liked about boxing was a natural course for an interview to take. He felt instead that he was being asked to reflect on bad moments in his career and being so close to a fight, just days from it, he considered this approach to be insensitive, unnecessary.
The same goes for his interview on The Ariel Helwani Show later that day. In that one, the so-called negativity was more overt, with the interviewer’s effort to show support and fondness for Dubois ultimately backfiring. It backfired, this attempt, chiefly because as a reference point it used one of Dubois’ three career defeats – his first, against Joe Joyce – and with the mere mention of it Dubois’ mood, already that of a teenager, only soured. It was for that reason he said, “I don’t even know why you’re bringing that up. What are you trying to say, man?”
Again, in the eyes of the interviewer, what had been brought up was context, something of relevance – if not to the upcoming fight, then Dubois’ overall career. Yet, in the eyes of Dubois, the fighter, he could see no benefit to playing games for interviewers when his game – a fight, no less – was just days from happening. In that respect, maybe he had every right to behave the way he did this week when asked the kind of questions he had neither the inclination nor energy to answer. For even if it is his duty to sell an upcoming fight, and it is, that doesn’t mean Dubois, or any fighter, is conditioned to understand how or be in any way equipped to do it.
In the case of Dubois, few are as ill-equipped for the task of selling, speaking, and answering questions. As shown this week, questions present to Dubois differently than how they present to us and some things get lost in translation. Increasingly, too, the more that he struggles and is mocked for it, the more you start to wonder whether it’s Dubois who has it right and is simply behaving in these interviews the way any sane, normal person would and should. You ask yourself, “Have we become so brainwashed as a society into thinking we are all the main character in our own story that we view those who desire not even the role of an extra as being weird, or odd, or alien? Is Dubois not just a shy, socially awkward manchild who is the product of his admittedly unique and closeted upbringing? Is he not speaking for us all when he demonstrates how exhausted he is by the constant grifting, beeping, and clicking of the content-obsessed modern world? Is he not all of us when we sit dormant on a Zoom call and ache to log off as everyone else touches base and circles back? In a world of show-offs, influencers, and bullshitters, is it not somewhat refreshing to see a man, whether through choice or sheer inability, elect not to broadcast his every thought and feeling in the pursuit of attention and fame?”
I think it is. I really do. I also think that anybody who frowns upon fast-food content along the lines of “Build your perfect fighter” or “Blind rankings” should immediately receive a medal, or some new WBC belt. In fact, the only thing I hate more than that type of content is myself for knowing it exists, which means any effort on the part of a fighter to reduce it, or expose its brain-rot emptiness, only enhances their reputation in my eyes. This applies to Dubois during a DAZN quickfire round, as well as to anyone else who shows resistance to performing on command and getting “clipped up”.
Besides, there is a time and place. If you must ask fighters fun or silly questions to spark engagement, that’s fine, but do it at a time when their mind is less consumed with far more important matters. Do it at a time when it is not quite so painful for them to smile and to fake it. Because should you ever get close to a professional boxer you will quickly appreciate that fight week is a time fraught with tension, uncertainty and fear. You will know, too, what you can and cannot ask, and will soon learn that the best position to adopt when in the company of a boxer during fight week is that of a Victorian child: seen and not heard; speak only when spoken to.
Alas, because we are in a time of noise and attention, few are able to comprehend such a thing. Forgetting that fighters, like writers, choose their profession because it is a solitary one, and because they want to use their hands as a mode of expression, too often we harass these people and see them only as commodities for content. Worse, because not many of us know how it feels to be days from a fight, we tend to view them and their behaviour through the same lens through which we, the ones harassing, see the world. That is naïve, I feel, and perhaps unfair. After all, the only thing we really share with a fighter during fight week is the image that appears when we drag our eyes from our phone and look up at the sky. Sometimes it is blue; other times grey. This week, for Daniel Dubois, it hasn’t stopped raining questions.
