Ten years after the final fight of one of the finest careers of any British fighter, Carl Froch reflects on the journey that, perhaps wrongly, is at risk of being defined by one night above all else.
Interview: Declan Warrington
BN: You’ve been a retired fighter for 10 years…
CF: It’s gone quick. It seems like yesterday, but in reality I was a totally different person 10 years ago. I don’t feel like that guy that was fighting. I feel like a civilised human being. I’m more understanding – I never used to give people a second chance – I’m more relaxed; I’m not as stubborn. Although it feels like yesterday, I’ve got a 13-year-old, a 10-year-old and an eight-year-old – two of them were babies and one wasn’t even born, so I know it’s been a long time.
BN: You walked away from boxing as a teenager…
CF: I didn’t enjoy amateur boxing anymore. I was enjoying being in pubs playing pool; poker; fruit machines, so I walked away from the sport.
I moved back to Nottingham at 19. I was unfit; mixed up in a couple of things on the street trying to make a bit of money, and it was a dead end. I worked at a company called Diamond Cable; it was a telecommunications company. I was an office junior; was there for three or four years and ended up being the supervisor of the direct debits department. I used to phone up customers, and all that boring bullshit. I was working for pubs; working doors with my dad on the weekends, and doing a bit of hustling as well, which I won’t talk about. “I’m going nowhere in life.” I had an epiphany.
The boxing gym’s a safe haven. I was watching ‘Prince’ Naseem Hamed and Lennox Lewis on TV and thinking, “I used to box”. At 19 or 20 I went to the ABAs – I didn’t know what they were – got to the final, lost to Chris Bessey, ended up with a ranking of number one or two and was in Boxing News. That’s when I really started taking it seriously. “I can probably do something here.”
I never really wanted to be a fighter. I’m not an aggressive person – I’d rather shake someone’s hand and walk away than have a fight. Although I looked like I was confident and I’d fight anybody and did what I did in boxing, I was always nervous. I wasn’t worried about getting hurt, or scared – it was not wanting to under-perform or lose. I never thought I was that great. Some of the top amateurs were really, really good, and I realised I was never that skilful or talented. But I was tough, and I punched hard – I knew what my attributes were. I didn’t think I was good enough to win a world title. I turned pro late [in 2002] – 25 years old. “Should I stick around for the [2004] Olympics? If I turn pro and fail… ” David Haye said, “I’m turning pro – I’m gonna be world champ; I’ll beat all of ‘em”, and that helped me. “If he can do it, I can do it.”
BN: How much do you owe Rob McCracken?
CF: I never really wanted to turn professional – Rob McCracken talked me into turning pro. Who else would I have turned professional with? I was a Hamed fan so I may have ended in Sheffield with Dominic Ingle. But the time I spent with Rob – talking, and listening to him, and learning in the gym and developing and sparring Howard Eastman, and the time I spent in America with him… Rob got inside my head. He knew me inside out; he knew my personality; he was very good, psychology-wise. He helped me massively, and gave me confidence and self-belief. When I was walking to the ring, regardless of how nervous I was or whether I was doubting myself, I was fully conditioned; fully ready, and me and Rob had had some long chats, and I walked to the ring feeling confident – nervous, but confident – because of one man, and that was Rob McCracken. Without that self-belief I don’t think I’d have achieved much.
BN: Why do you reflect on your run of British title fights as so crucial in everything you achieved?
CF: The British title was my aim. “If I can win a British title and make £20,000, £30,000 I’ll have done well.” I never thought I’d be world champion. I loved the belt, and if you think about who I boxed for the belt – Damon Hague; Matthew Barney; Brian Magee; Robin Reid; Tony Dodson… Young fighters coming through who want to jump the queue and go straight to an interim world title – you can’t put a price on the experience and how valuable it is for when I stepped up and fought [in 2008] Jean Pascal. Reid hit me with a shot and I didn’t know where I was. Barney should have been disqualified – it was horrible – and got me ready for Andre Dirrell later on [in 2009].
It’s a massive achievement [to win the British title outright]. It was dirty and all the ribbon was black, because it’d been in circulation for so long. In the end they took it off me and made a brand new one and – beautiful. I got it presented. The British Boxing Board of Control did me proud there. I’ve got the British title above my world titles in my trophy room – it sits at the top.
“Beating Jermain Taylor gave me that contract with the Super Six,” Froch says (Photo by Nick Laham/Getty Images)
BN: How fair is it to describe the Jermain Taylor fight in 2009 as “make or break”?
CF: Absolutely. To win a world title the way I did against Pascal and then go and lose it in my first defence in America, it’s almost like coming back to England with my tail between my legs. That win opened the door for the Super Six. Sky weren’t showing me much; ITV had just dropped boxing. Beating Jermain Taylor gave me that contract with the Super Six, and it was a lumpy contract back then – $1.5m a fight.
I won the world title in 2008 when all the [global financial] markets crashed, so the timing was bad for everybody. I was quite shrewd, and made sure I had a [TV] licence agreement for the Super Six in place with a new company I’d set up. It was the sole recipient of all the licence fees for them fights. I had to fight five fucking monsters. I earned every penny, didn’t I?
BN: How fair is it to say the Super Six made you?
CF: I lost to Mikkel Kessler and Andre Ward. The loss to Kessler didn’t really feel like a loss, because I was still in the tournament. “I won the first one against Dirrell; if I beat [Arthur] Abraham I’m in the semis].” I was straight back in – sometimes if you lose your title you’re back to the bottom of the ladder and got to rebuild – and everything to play for. When I lost to Ward it was a bad one for me – end of the tournament. It was an anti-climax being in Atlantic City – I’d boxed [Glen] Johnson there and thought it’d be in Vegas or somewhere a bit more glamorous. The Super Six was draining – a hard slog – but invaluable experience. I was forced to fight the best. Each fight you learn something when you’re fighting top quality opposition like that. Dirrell was unbeaten; Olympic bronze [medallist]. Kessler had only lost to [Joe] Calzaghe. Johnson was an old-school warrior, and then it was Ward.
BN: You were the first A-list fighter to sign with the Eddie Hearn-led Matchroom…
CF: It revitalised me; gave me a new lease of life. It got me back on Sky Sports. [Hearn] was as good for me as I was for him. I wouldn’t have been back on Sky if it wasn’t for Eddie; wouldn’t have finished my career on the high I did without him. He gave me the opportunity to do what I did after the loss to Andre Ward. I got paid well; he earned a lot of money off me, and he got the opportunity to go on to the next level, and he works really hard – he’s non-stop. Is he going to give me credit for that? I think he knows.
BN: Who was the best you fought?
CF: People always think I’m having a go ‘cause I lost to Ward. I lost 115-113 on two judges’ scorecards –it was probably a lot wider because I didn’t hit him much. It’s effective, but he’s hard to hit; hard to pin down; holds; runs; ducks low. He don’t stand and fight. I don’t think I would say Ward was the best I fought. I’d say Dirrell, ‘cause he was really talented; fast hands. I just bullied him – got him in Nottingham; backed him up; got hold of him; chucked him on the floor. It was a bit of a rag-dolling job. It was close as well. Who would have won out of Dirrell unbeaten and Ward unbeaten? Dirrell got his heart broken by Abraham. I don’t think he had the heart and the mindset, because he was mentally weak against me, but what a skilful, talented fighter.
BN: What was your hardest fight?
CF: At the time [in 2004], Charles Adamu felt like my hardest fight ever. I wasn’t 12-round conditioned; I’d never been 12 before. The two fights with Kessler [in 2010 and 2013] – especially the first one, because I was so tired and weight drained, because I took weight off and flew in just before the weigh-in, because of that volcanic ash cloud. It was really hard because I was fucked.
BN: What was your best performance?
CF: Without a doubt, Abraham. I didn’t get hit with a shot; he’s one of them fighters that comes forward, tires you out and then hammers you, but I was too fit to tire out. To not get hit and let go of relentless combinations – body and head – and be disciplined to not stay in range and go for the finish… it was a flawless victory.
Froch in his role as analyst sat next to Andy Lee and commentator Mike Costello. (Picture By Mark Robinson Matchroom Boxing)
BN: What was your favourite night?
CF: It wasn’t Wembley. It was [in 2012, Lucian] Bute. I went into that fight a loser – I’d lost to Ward and was going in with somebody when no one thought I could win. He was champ; I was in Nottingham, my home city; the Nottingham Arena was packed, and the atmosphere was unbelievable. Becoming champion again – that’s the one that stands out for me. Wembley Stadium was a grudge match and a massive night and the last night of my career, but I had more euphoria and more endorphins running through the blood on the Bute night than the [George] Groves night.
Not many people – in all sports – get their defining moment. Certain sportspeople are remembered for certain things. I got my defining moment chinning Groves at Wembley in front of all them people. But it grates on me a little bit that that’s what most people remember me for. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I don’t want to be remembered just for knocking George Groves out. When you think about my career before that and what I did and who I fought – it kind of gets overlooked. I had an unbelievable career before that Wembley fight. I’m grateful to have my defining moment, and it’s brilliant that I’ve got it, but my career had so much more depth. That whole fight was rubbish, apart from one punch. I’d much rather remember the first fight with Groves [in 2013].
BN: How close did you come to returning to fight Julio Cesar Chavez Jr, or Mikkel Kessler for a third time?
CF: Kessler III was never gonna happen, I don’t think – talks got nowhere. Not because he was worried about fighting – just because he was quite happily retired. Chavez Jr was getting momentum, but I wasn’t happy, figures-wise. But what really stopped that was he lost to [Andrzej] Fonfara, and it took the edge off it. The Triple G [Gennady Golovkin] fight was talked about but it was getting me down to 164lbs – I’d been retired a year. “I can’t do 168lbs – now you want me to do 164lbs?” That’d have been a hard fight but I’d have won – no one thought I’d beat Bute. That was probably the closest one to being done, but the weight was an issue. But I was done – I started training and hitting pads and Rob come down and we had a couple of sessions at Phoenix Boxing Club – my old amateur club – and I knew I wasn’t feeling it. “Why am I doing this?”
BN: What’s been the lowest point of being a retired fighter?
CF: The first time I felt normal was when I was sitting in the canteen at Sky Sports as staff, eating with everyone else. I was working on the production being a pundit and looking at the main event. But it was brilliant I did that because being involved in all them fights, straight after retiring – that’s the reason I never had any low moments. I was never, ever sat at home twiddling my thumbs thinking, “I want to fight again; I really miss it”. If I didn’t do that, I’d have probably ended up boxing again. I remember watching, thinking, “Fucking hell – it’s hard, boxing”. Listen to the punches land. “Did I used to do that? Fucking hell.” Some of the fights you’d see – guys cut, bruised, battered and getting dropped – that kept me out of the ring. There were no lulls – I’d got Rocco, my boy, Natalia, and then Penelope was on the way in 2015. I was busy with my kids; love my wife [Rachael]. I’ve honestly not had a [low] point. When you’re at home and you’re content and you’ve got somebody who’s got your back and as loyal as she is, and you’re financially free…
BN: After so many punishing fights, how concerned are you about your health?
CF: My father-in-law died five years ago. He was my best mate, really – I ain’t got a relationship with my dad. I’m always looking at the next healthy option in my diet and my lifestyle’s around being as healthy as possible. I distill all my own water; I don’t eat processed foods or put fluoride in my body. I’ve got a really strict regime. But in terms of my brain, and the punishment I took to my head – the way I look at it is there’s nothing I can do about it. I control the controllables. What I can do is negate the potential damage I’ve had to the head. I keep my brain active, ‘cause I do think about it, but there’s nothing I can do about it, and I wouldn’t go back and change anything. I’m really not worried.
BN: How rewarding was it to get inducted last year into the International Boxing Hall of Fame?
CF: That was awesome. That was the rubber stamp; the seal of approval for a great career. I took Rob, and it was just brilliant because he was sat there with Riddick Bowe, Roberto Duran and some of the old trainers and just chatting away. “Look at him – in his element.” I was there with Ronald ‘Winky’ Wright for two days, feeding off him and picking his brain. Really, really honoured and humbled and privileged. Elated to be inducted. Just, brilliant.
