He eventually joined me in the UK and we are still great friends – I’ve known Doctor longer than anyone in this country, longer than my wife even. He was to be an invaluable presence during training and in my corner at many of my future professional fights.
Initially, we were not exactly friends, though; it is more accurate to say that he was teaching me the martial arts; that was the common ground. As I was mastering the art of pugilism, the noble art, I wanted to hone it to near perfection. So, actually to incorporate the martial arts was a necessary evolution of my learning curve. As I have mentioned, Doctor had an expansive knowledge of internal and external martial art forms such as aikido, jiu-jitsu, karate, tai chi and Chinese boxing, and at first it was very difficult to incorporate this into my style. I found it very frustrating. For example, martial arts like pa-qua are open handed, but obviously boxing uses a closed fist. Doctor’s martial arts were about holding, striking with your palm and fingers, whereas boxing was about striking only with your knuckles. He was trying to teach me these forms, but because I liked him so much I couldn’t tell him that I was struggling to incorporate them into my boxing. This went on for perhaps three years.
What I did extract from everything I observed about martial arts was the foot movement, which was all about positioning and escape. The stance and poise in martial arts is 98% on your back foot and 2% on your front. Boxing is 50/50, unless you go into a position to strike, at which point you vary the weight distribution. I took that and spliced it into my boxing style. People often ask me how the martial arts and boxing mix. The point is this: boxing is actually the highest form of martial arts, because you have to learn how to absorb punishment before you can initiate it.
Another aspect Doctor brought to my game was stretching. Obviously, as a boxer, flexibility is vital, but many fighters only have flexibility in one dimension, namely that of the direction of the punch. So another aspect I took from the martial arts was to develop all-encompassing flexibility, or amplitude, and by that I mean agility in every direction. For example, I learned how to do the Japanese splits, which is where your legs are completely flat, then you roll your abdomen and chest to the floor. This is an excruciating skill to develop and can only be achieved by constant repetition. A fight is not just about strength, it is also about flexibility. These extraordinary skills, when taken into the ring, proved to be very powerful tools. Doctor could enhance the stretching I was doing, and did so right the way through my career. Some smaller elements also crept in, such as doing Doctor’s jiu-jitsu wrist exercises, which were very useful for extra strength – no matter how much you bandage that joint, it can still get damaged. Sometimes he even made me wring out a dishcloth or play a guitar for extra wrist and finger strength! I never did much weight-training – lifting weights and boxing never go together, it tightens you up. Boxing is about being loose and relaxed.
Another factor I studied intensely was the philosophy of fighting, the art of war, psychological dominance and the like. Due to my passion for this aspect of the business, I became an exceptional adversary, because I was born with an intellect and the courage to actually apply that intellect. This gave me the character to manipulate situations before a fight, dealing with the mental strain and terrain.
What martial arts allowed me to do was get away from the conventional. The conventional will see you beaten sooner rather than later, because people will be able to work you out. People cannot beat you if they don’t know what you are going to do next. If you box with your hands up, then no fighter will be scared of you, because they know that stance – they have been training for that all their boxing careers. Box with your hands down and it unsettles them; they haven’t seen it before, it is uncommon, unconventional, extraordinary. The opponent has to work out the terrain from scratch and while he’s doing that, you are hitting him. If you can think alternatively, you can go on to be champion for a long time. As I did.
It has been said by some observers that it was quite advanced for such a young boxer to integrate the martial arts into boxing as I did. I don’t see it that way. When I met Doctor, I just thought, Here is a man who understands the philosophy of life and that can be applied to everything. He has applied that in medicine too; he was always giving me herbs, ginseng and all the oriental teas. I was always the type of person who was interested in the older man who knew something I didn’t. Doctor seemed to know so much and seemed almost mystical. I was the one who took certain aspects of the martial arts philosophy and applied this to boxing and that is why people said that I had a very unusual style. I had learned the skills in the gym, then I put my own flavour in there with the martial arts, the stances, the angles. It was a complex hybrid of all the arts with regard to the foot movements and my personality.
I must reiterate that the actual striking did not draw from any of the other martial arts, because boxing has it all in its own manual. Plus, how you deal with punishment is essential to your success. Absorbing punches without telegraphing pain is another skill that only comes with repetition and training. You stand in front of a fighter and leave your abdomen exposed, allowing him to punch it time and time again. Initially, it is agony and your face contorts with the pain, but over the months and years of doing this you learn to absorb the punch and not even flicker when contact is made. It hurts your stomach, but you learn not to hold your breath because if you do that you’ll get tired. You’ve got to learn how to breathe and be tense at the same time. You see a heavy shot coming in, you brace into it. It is instinct gleaned from repetition in the gym. You condition yourself; you mask the gut instinct to grimace or wince, because otherwise your opponent knows you are hurt and will come on harder. If you show pain, you will probably lose the fight. The best boxers are those who can absorb punishment; being able to give it out is only half the equation.
This philosophy of fighting extends to your mental attitude as well as your physical conditioning. People assume you go into the ring prepared to take a life. Incorrect. You have to go into the ring fully prepared to surrender your life, if that is what is required. In fact, not only did I go into the ring thinking: you may damage me, you may even kill me, but I used to think: if you can do that to me, I will appreciate it. But know this: you are going to have to take me because I am not giving up, ever.
If this sounds extreme, let me clarify my position. It is not that you consciously think you will die every time you step into the four-cornered circle. It is not that prevalent. Your strength of mind and resolve of character are prepared to face this possibility. You don’t think you will die, because you have a faith in your ability and because it is all about a positive mental attitude. You must always think positively. As will become apparent from my story as it unfolds, it all comes down to one deep-rooted factor: integrity.
I returned to the UK in January 1988 to make my home there. I came back principally because I wanted to be with my brothers, whom I still adored. My first fight back in England was on 15 February of that year, against Darren Parker in Copthorne, whom I stopped in the first round. Then came a fellow called Winston Burnett, who was target practice, but he would have beaten me if I hadn’t known what I was doing. The next fight was a mismatch, against Michael Justin, who was supposed to have ability. He was hard and willing but did not have the ability to deliver shots. He showed lots of heart coming forward, swinging at me, but it was no contest. Two more middle-round stoppages against Greg George and Steve Aquilina and suddenly, I was 10 and 0. Over the next 24 months, I was to fight 11 times on my long haul towards a title shot.
At first, however, it was tough. I had no money and lived in a tiny bedsit. Perhaps inevitably, I found myself occasionally drawn back into a life of shoplifting. Before I had left for New York, I’d been in many amazing chases with the police, but perhaps my finest was a two-day pursuit in mid-1988. It was an absolute classic. We had hired a taxi as usual to take us around our targets and he then escorted us while we took the gear around all the pubs in the Walworth Road or the Unity Centre