.jpg)
After knowing exactly what to do with himself, and indeed his opponent, on Saturday night, there is a certain irony to the fact that Shabaz Masoud, less than 48 hours later, finds himself now all out of ideas.
“Banned” from the gym for fear of burnout, he is suddenly an artist without brushes, a writer without a pen. He has energy he still wishes to use creatively but lacks both the routine and the tools he normally requires. In the routine of old he is able to find structure, he knows where to be and at what time, yet without this he is aimless; as aimless as anyone else walking a dog in a park in the early hours of the morning.
“I don’t know what to do with myself,” he admits on Monday, with his nine-month-old son doing all he can to distract him, keep him grounded. “I’ve just been on a long walk with my dog. I used to get straight back in the gym after a fight but Ben (Davison, coach) has told me I need to have a week or two off. I’ve been in the gym all year. The S and C coach has banned me from training as well.”
On Saturday, Masoud was full of purpose, creativity, and discipline. On Saturday he not only outboxed and outpointed Liam Davies, his big domestic junior featherweight rival, but did so in a manner so dominant it ended any chance of there being a rematch, at least in the immediate future. He also beat Davies so thoroughly, as an underdog no less, that it is hard to think of too many better performances in a British ring this calendar year.
Despite that, the 28-year-old says he is now “back to reality” and for a week or two will be without direction. This morning, for instance, Masoud found himself waking up at five o’clock, after which he prayed, as always, before taking the dog out in the woods, a leisurely stroll he prolonged for three hours if just to have it constitute some form of exercise. Then, by 10 o’clock, he was answering his phone and being told his performance on Saturday was reminiscent of Pernell “Sweet Pea” Whitaker.
“Honestly, that’s made my day,” he says, gratitude palpable in his voice. “Do you know what’s funny? We watched him for this camp. We watched him and (Guillermo) Rigondeaux. They were the two guys. Lee Wylie, one of my coaches, said to me after the fight, ‘In close today you were unreal. It reminded me of Pernell Whitaker.’
“It’s the sweet science, isn’t it?”
Comparisons with Pernell Whitaker should never be handed out lightly, irrespective of a boxer’s dominance or the poses they may have struck when in the ring. Whitaker was, after all, one of the finest technicians to ever grace the sport, as dazzling and dangerous on defense as he was when opening up and picking opponents apart with punches thrown from his southpaw stance.
Yet, even with this caution, it would be insincere of me not to confess that Whitaker came to mind when watching Masoud against Davies on Saturday. He came to mind, specifically, when Masoud would beckon Davies in and then bend at the waist in order to watch Davies’ increasingly desperate punches fly over his shoulders and head. In those moments, more than at any other time, I saw not Masoud but someone else.
“I worked on a lot of things for this fight and it was all just about believing in my skills,” Masoud says. “I knew I was more skillful and more talented and it just all came together for me on the night. I knew what I had to do and instantly people saw that we were a world apart. I’m glad I was able to show that.
“I just had to stay alert. I spoke to a few people before the fight and one of them was Billy Joe Saunders. I said to him, ‘Bill, what is it that separates elite fighters from just average pros?’ He goes to me: ‘To be elite, and to win at that level, it’s about concentration levels. You have to stay switched on completely for 12 rounds.’ That’s now a big thing for me.
“I felt like I got the better of things up close. I kept chopping him with the hook. Even in close my head movement was there. I’d make him miss and then turn him. I was bobbing and weaving.”
Such was Masoud’s dominance, both at range and on the inside, it is hard to imagine what Davies, his frustrated opponent, could have done differently. Even Masoud, the man with all the answers, and the one full of so many ideas, struggles to come up with an answer to that question.
“If he waited for me, rather than came after me, he wouldn’t have even won two rounds,” he says. “That would have been game over. You’ve got to remember that he’s known me for years and we’ve sparred for years. We boxed each other twice before (as amateurs; Masoud won both). He’s always known the kind of fighter I am. After watching me as a pro, he would have thought his best bet is to get in close and work and that’s what he tried to do.
“Do you know what the sad thing is, though? After an amazing win like that, I’ve seen a few people say Liam is this or Liam is that. Listen, Liam is a killer. He’s a good fighter. He bangs out everyone. For me to go in there and do that to him… nobody should discredit him. He’s a great fighter. I just nullified him.”
With that it is hard to disagree. Davies, before meeting Masoud, had won 16 straight, ended his last three fights by stoppage inside five rounds, and was seemingly on course for a money-spinning title shot against Naoya Inoue next year. He was, in the eyes of many, not only the favorite to beat Masoud on Saturday but someone with the potential to become one of Britain’s very best fighters. Even those not as giddy about his potential would have been unable to foresee a scenario in which he lost to Masoud so decisively any future rematch would be deemed pointless.
“A few people said to me before this could be like a Froch-Groves type of thing, where it happens again,” says Masoud. “But there was no real controversy. The only controversy was the scorecards at the end. Other than that, it was such a dominant performance that I wouldn’t even entertain a rematch. Not yet anyway. I want to focus on other things. Inoue is there obviously and, if he ends up going up (in weight), there will be titles vacant. I’m in a good position with every sanctioning body now.”
Given he mentioned it himself, it is worth taking a moment to remind everybody that one judge – a certain Marcos Morales – watched the Masoud masterclass on Saturday and somehow conspired to score it 115-113 in favor of Liam Davies, the man on the receiving end of it. It was, as far as scorecards go, about as bad as it gets. One might even suggest that the scorecard of Jean Marie Natus, which had Masoud a winner by a too-narrow margin of 115-113, was heinous enough, without Morales then one-upping him in the race to prove their incompetence.
“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” says Masoud. “You can see when they read the scorecards out the reaction of my coaches. They were in total shock. Liam also knew. As soon as the bell rang, he knew. His team is not stupid. They knew the score. Thankfully, people have their own eyes and understand what went on.”
The truth, as usual, probably sits somewhere between two extreme points of view. That is to say, while Masoud clearly has a long way to go to emulate someone as brilliant as Pernell Whitaker, he also shouldn’t have been judged to have been either beaten by Davies or within just a round or two of him on Saturday night. In reality, there was a vast chasm between the pair and Masoud, so poised and composed when under fire, insists he can still do much better and has a lot more to offer.
“This is one thing people don’t understand: I’m a natural orthodox fighter,” he says. “I’ve been boxing southpaw the last few fights just because I’ve been working on my southpaw stance, but my natural style is orthodox. I’ve just been choosing to stay southpaw for these last few fights.
“I’ve got so many more layers to my game. I just need to get more activity to show it. Everybody on our team understands the levels I can go to because of what I have got in my locker.”
If ever in doubt, he now has evidence, a reminder. All he must do is hit “play” on the video and watch the near-faultless 12 rounds he produced in the company of Liam Davies to remember the potency of his talent. Bigger tests are still ahead, of course, but most boxers dream of one night when it all comes together, and they draw comparisons to legends of yesteryear, and Masoud, 14-0 (4), has now had his.
“It feels like tunnel vision until I come out and watch it back,” he says. “I’ve watched the highlights a good 20 times and I’ve watched the full fight probably five times now. I still feel like I can do better. My family say I need to stop that. They say it’s a toxic trait of mine. But I always see things I can improve on. They say to me, ‘Just enjoy it,’ but this is how I try to better myself.”
For as long as he remains in the same division as Naoya Inoue, Masoud knows it would be foolish to adopt any other kind of approach. If, after all, a fighter isn’t striving to get better, they really have no chance of surviving in the ring with Inoue, a champion whose innate ability to have even the most self-assured fighter doubt himself is arguably as damaging as any punch he throws.
“I’ve never refused a fight and I never would,” says Masoud when asked about the prospect of facing Inoue. “Why not go there and box him? There’s no doubt about it, he’s on the pound-for-pound list, but at the end of the day you live for nights like that. I don’t fear anyone. Everything happens for a reason. Whatever is going to happen has already been written. I’m a man of faith and that’s a big thing for me, knowing that whatever happens will happen because of God’s timing.”
There is a comfort in that, no doubt, particularly when on the Monday following a career-best win you have so many ideas, and so much energy, but nowhere for these ideas and this energy to go. Shabaz Masoud, a man as patient as they come, may not know what to do with himself today, but with this aimlessness he has made peace. Besides, if he doesn’t know, someone else will.