David Haye was once the most exciting heavyweight in the world. He was fast, powerful and smart in the ring, punching considerably above his weight, loud and controversial outside it, a charismatic magnet of controversy.
Yet for all that he has achieved – world titles at cruiser and heavyweight and as much celebrity and money as any good-looking working-class south London boy could have asked for – there is little doubt that, at 37, he has fallen short of what he could have achieved in an era of flux.
When the Hayemaker finally goaded his way into a showdown with Wladimir Klitschko in 2011, pulling off a masterpiece of aggressive marketing, he stubbed his toe. A string of injuries banjaxed two fights against Tyson Fury. His achilles gave up on him in the ring against Tony Bellew just over a year ago and he fell down some stairs on the eve of their scheduled rematch just before Christmas.
Now he gets one more chance. He has stretched the patience of paying customers and opponents to the limit. At the 02 Arena in London on Saturday night – a few miles from where he grew up – Haye and Bellew go at it again.
The Liverpudlian, a couple of years younger, will start a slight favourite, and that will suit Haye, who enjoys the added incentive of proving everyone wrong. He promises: “I’ve got something up my sleeve for Bellew.”
He has been uncharacteristically quiet in the build-up this time, almost Zen-like in soaking up Bellew’s barbs. It is as if he is trying to con him into a sense of complacency. That probably will not happen, because he has annoyed Bellew to distraction in the past.
Bellew (who has already starred in his own movie) is winning the battle for the gallery. On Twitter at the weekend he summed up the fighter’s code: “This time next week I’ll be punching someone in the face and be getting punched right back in the face! I’m actually excited at the thought of this! suppose what ever floats ya boat eh.” In that, at least, they have something in common. Haye loves a tear-up.
Nevertheless, a trawl of social media reveals a lot of fans are sick and tired of Haye. Most of them have forgotten the good nights, the performances that thrilled, the crashing overhand rights that rendered opponents senseless and bewildered.
Probably Haye’s last impressive display was stopping Dereck Chisora at Upton Park in five rounds. That was nearly six years ago. He said in his pomp he would retire on his 31st birthday. If fighters share a vice it is staying too long at the party. On Saturday night we’ll see if Haye has anything left to celebrate or is prepared finally to wander into the night.
Wilder and Wilder
The dance has begun. But the tango boxing wants more than any other, the one that makes most sense and most cents – Anthony Joshua and Deontay Wilder – remains mired in online noise and baby-level exchanges across the ditch.
The latest wheeze is that the American heavyweight who cannot fill a 19,000-seater in Brooklyn has gone straight to his British cash cow, bypassing Joshua’s promoter, Eddie Hearn, and put $50m on the table.
Joshua – whose last three title defences have drawn more than a quarter of a million punters to Wembley and Cardiff – turns to Hearn, lifts an eyebrow, and the Matchroom boss says: “Leave it AJ, they’re not serious.”
So the contest is still in round one: much positioning, the odd jab, nobody risking a big shot. It is like David Haye v Audley Harrison on a never-ending loop. Hearn is in New York pushing his middleweight Daniel Jacobs but reported that Wilder’s people failed to show for scheduled talks.
Hearn, of course, is loving his name for one of Wilder’s representatives, Shelly Finkel: Shirley Winkle. Lou Di Bella, another of the American’s financial advisers, lashes out from his cot that this is just plain dumb. Meanwhile there is snarling in the cheap seats. Fans want some action.
They are sucked into the ritual, believing nothing and everything, so long as the day of the big collision is drawn closer. They will complain that they cannot stand Hearn, or think that Wilder is dodging Joshua, or that no way can Deontay come up with the bucks he is said to have dangled in front of his rival.
The only way to cope with the anxiety of such nonsense is to let it run out of steam. Sooner or later Hearn, perhaps with a nudge from his father, will corner the Americans in a hotel room somewhere and thrash out a deal that will make all of them millions they cannot afford to ignore.
The problem is not the fighters. They want to get it on. And, understandably, they want to maximise their earnings. But their promoters, managers and lawyers, meanwhile, do not want any spare change leaking to the other side. And that, without exception, is always the story behind the story.