PARIS, FRANCE – On Monday, the day before I travelled to Paris, France, I adhered to the fighter’s code – fail to prepare, prepare to fail – and made sure everything was in order.
With the aim of stealing a march on the competition and gaining a slight but crucial advantage, I wrote not one, not two, but three articles ahead of the WBC heavyweight title eliminator between Britain’s Lawrence Okolie and France’s Tony Yoka, set for Paris on Saturday. I was, having written these three articles, relieved to know that I would be less desperate than others to scrap for new and potentially bland material from the two heavyweights during fight week. That was it, the goal. A shortcut of sorts.
In fact, when I spoke to Okolie three weeks ago, I explained to him my rationale. I made it clear to him that a fight-week interview rarely delivers what a writer wants – what with the free-for-all nature of press conferences these days – and that sometimes, if granted the luxury, an interview in advance will often provide better, more detailed material.
That, he said, made a lot of sense, and following a half-hour chat I had gathered enough material – detailed material – to take with me into fight week. Better yet, I had, prior to any media events taking place, already three pieces in the can, like I said.
The first of those pieces was titled “Lawrence Okolie isn’t travelling to Paris to get robbed” and contained the kind of quotes one would expect it to contain. Setting out their stall early, both Okolie and his coach, Joe Gallagher, suggested within the piece that Yoka had received some favourable decisions in the past, as both an amateur and professional (Okolie called them “gifts”), and stressed how vital it was for any heavyweight who fights Yoka in Paris to win rounds clearly. “You have to do some damage to him to sway the judges,” Okolie said. “I also think he’s aware of it as well, so he will think he can just stay in the ring and stand up. That gives him a lot to fight for. He knows if he’s in the ring and still upright, he’s got a good chance of getting a robbery. So I need to make sure I’m doing serious damage mentally and physically to him.”
The next piece was titled “Wait and see: Lawrence Okolie is eager to see what he and Tony Yoka are made of” and this one was far more revealing. It was revealing, on the one hand, because without much prompting Okolie confessed to me that he still isn’t sure how good he will end up being as a heavyweight, something in the age of the braggart I found quite refreshing. “We’re going to see what he’s made of,” Okolie first said of Yoka, his opponent. “Can I break him? That’s the question. I think I can, but it’s easier said than done. It’s so easy saying that on the phone to you while I’m lying down. It’s another thing to go and get it done. But I can tell you my plan. My plan is to basically break him in half when we fight. Let’s now see whether I can do it or not. I’m confident, but we’ll have to wait and see.”
It wasn’t long before that became a theme of the interview: “Wait and see.” Okolie knew, as a heavy-handed heavyweight, how everything can change with one shot and wasn’t afraid to consider the reality of that, or indeed his own limitations. When asked whether he believed his power had travelled up from cruiserweight, where he once held the WBO title, to heavyweight, where he has boxed just four times, he said matter-of-factly, “We’re going to see.” He then repeated it: “We’re going to see. We’re going to see.”
“A lot is riding on this fight for you, isn’t it?” I said to that, perhaps stating the obvious.
“Oh yeah,” said Okolie, “this is the most important fight of my life, definitely. It’s the one before the next most important fight in my life which won’t even happen if I lose this one. I believe I’ll be one of the hardest punchers Yoka has been in there with, despite the fact I came up from cruiserweight. This is my opportunity to prove that, but we’re going to see. We’re going to see his reaction to the punches, we’re going to see if I really am able to hurt him, and we’re going to see if he decides to be the holder in this fight. I’ve got a big stigma against me for holding, but I have a sneaky suspicion he’s going to be trying to spoil this fight because he doesn’t want to have to deal with what I bring. But, as I said, we’re going to see. My power has actually gone up at heavyweight, I’ll be honest with you. So far I feel the most powerful I have ever felt in my career. I’m just now trying to match the power with explosiveness and being able to keep throwing like that for the whole 10 or 12 rounds, as opposed to doing an amazing six and then fading. As I said, we’re going to see.”
The final piece I had written and had ready to go for fight week was titled “Calorie King: The making of heavyweight Lawrence Okolie”. This one, perhaps ideal for weigh-in day, was meant to explain, in broad terms, how Okolie had advanced from cruiserweight to heavyweight – via bridgerweight – so seamlessly in such a short period of time. In the piece Okolie, and also Gallagher, said that he had far more energy as a heavyweight and could now fulfil his insatiable appetite for food in a way he couldn’t as a cruiserweight. He looked like a natural heavyweight, Okolie said, because for so long he had been playing an unnatural cruiserweight. Now, in other words, his body had relaxed into its proper state and was all the better for it.
As for whether he was more effective at heavyweight than cruiserweight, Okolie was again reluctant to commit or go too early. “You’ll have to ask me after I beat Yoka, to be fair,” he said, showing once more how much he values having proof. “Right now, I’m calm and happy with my progress, but this is the one for me. He’s going to be the biggest guy I have faced as a heavyweight. He’s six-seven, Olympic champion, and a true heavyweight. He has been a heavyweight since fight one. I know this will be really, really telling, this fight. If I go in there and I land and hurt him badly, which I’m anticipating I will, that would be a good statement for me. But if I don’t hurt him and I have to win over 10 rounds, how do rounds six, seven, eight and nine look with a bigger guy?
“Everything in its time, you know? I still need to do more at heavyweight – I’ve still got to win this fight and win a heavyweight world title. Then I can be sure it was all meant to work out this way.”
On Tuesday, 24 hours after writing those three pieces, I received news that Okolie’s “important” and “telling” heavyweight fight with Tony Yoka, scheduled for Paris on Saturday, had been cancelled on account of a positive performance-enhancing drug test. I was, at the time, on my way to catch the Eurostar from London St. Pancras and couldn’t believe how unprepared I was for the news. “Last night the Voluntary Anti-Doping Association informed Queensberry that Lawrence Okolie had returned an adverse finding following an anti-doping test conducted ahead of the show in Paris on Saturday,” said a statement from Queensberry Promotions. “A further update regarding the event will be made in due course.”
I thought then of Okolie’s words: “Wait and see.” Even if the context had now changed, the sense of mystery remained. Perhaps it had grown. Okolie, too, had been blindsided by the news, despite him being open to all possibilities.
“Before anyone starts imagining the worst, following my bicep injury last year, I sustained an elbow injury on the same arm during this camp,” he wrote on social media. “I had a treatment on it and now we are here. I truly hope sense prevails.
“I will of course be fully cooperating with all relevant authorities and I’m confident any investigation will clear my name.
“I won’t be making any further comment at this time. Thank you for all your support and see you soon.”
By the time I had passed through 50 kilometres of underwater tunnel, taking me from London to Paris, that was it, the fight was off. The next announcement from Queensberry confirmed it.
Suddenly, if I hadn’t already, I began to think about the articles I had written and all the things Okolie had said. It couldn’t be helped. I also thought about the things I, the person interviewing him, had never thought to ask. Didn’t ask about drugs – why would you? – and didn’t ask about injuries, how a boxer might treat certain injuries, or therapeutic use exemptions (TUI). Again, why would you? I know now that one of the benefits of the banned synthetic hormone GHRP-2 is muscle growth, but I didn’t know that three hours ago, never mind three weeks ago, nor did I suspect Okolie of having for whatever reason come across it.
I didn’t even ask Okolie about Tony Yoka’s questionable history regarding performance-enhancing drugs, or ask how he felt about fighting a man who, in 2018, was banned for one year by the French Anti-Doping Agency for missing three drug tests between July 2016 and July 2017. At the time, three weeks ago, it wasn’t relevant because we had all moved on and most of us had forgotten about it. It seems somehow less relevant now, I think, a point like that. Or maybe, of all the things Okolie might have said to me ahead of this ill-fated fight, his response to that unasked question would have carried the most relevance now. Maybe those words could be published; maybe that article would have survived.
As it is, we accept the reality of the situation. We accept that nothing can be controlled or predicted in this crazy, unruly sport, and we now wait and see how this latest PED saga gets resolved. Beyond that, we are powerless; we know nothing. We can say that it’s for the best that Saturday’s fight has now been cancelled, but we cannot say with any degree of certainty whether Okolie knowingly took the drug for which he tested positive. In fact, if this situation reminds us of anything, it is that there are some things only the boxer himself knows and these things will never be said, much less written down. Sometimes even the boxer, prepared for just about anything, doesn’t actually know, or see it coming.
How things can change. Three weeks ago, Lawrence Okolie was an open book, lying flat on his bed following a track session in Manchester. Yet now, three days from what was supposed to be his biggest fight, he has, for self-preservation, closed up, hunkered down. Forget any answers, there will, he says, be “no further comment” and that is that. No fight. No further comment. No clues.
As my train finally pulled into Gare du Nord just before six o’clock on Tuesday evening, there was also no event at the Adidas Arena and no reason for me to be in Paris.
What a waste, I thought; all those words, all those plans, all that time preparing. What a waste.
