Quotes About Boxing

My first sparring session with him saw him bullying me around the ring, so I thought fuck this, and when he came back in close, I threw the boxing code of conduct out of the window and hit him with a cracking right hand in to the balls! That sapped the energy out of him and that was the end of that. In the end, I could take anything he threw at me and then I'd come back with mine, which he didn't like and people would comment on how much I'd 'come on'.

I had a burning desire in me to win and started to get him on the back foot. I was looking for that one special shot when I put him down with the famous Horsley Muckspreader right hand… an unstoppable force. Incredibly, he got up and took the count and the ref waved us to continue.

Eventually, it was around midnight, I was told to get ready and put the gloves on. I felt physically depleted and drained of energy, and had no get-up-and-go left in me. I wanted a bed badly, not a boxing ring.

The crowd started cheering as soon as they seen him, he was one of them, a local lad from Lancashire. In the first round, I tried to put him away but my punches had nothing in them, I might as well as been hitting thin air. It was then that I knew I had to really dig deep if I wanted to hear the final bell; I threw a clever little corkscrew right. A great shot, but ineffective unless it hits with some vigour, which it didn't!

In the last round I was so wiped-out that for the first time in my life I tried to get disqualified. He was throwing punches non-stop and he was dangerous with those shots and becoming a little bit too cute for my liking. I backed to the ropes and catapulted off them and nutted him.

Everyone in the place seen me nut him apart from the ref, it caught him on the blind side. I tried to nut him on the eyebrow so it would split open, but I got him on the forehead. The crowd turned right against me, but I made it to the last bell and lost on a unanimous decision.

I made another comeback in the sweet science of boxing, and nobody say I've had more comebacks than Frank Sinatra… 'cos he's dead.

During the depression, people fought each other for boxes of groceries and if you were lucky you might get a few shillings for fighting six rounds. When Jack Johnson was World Heavyweight Champ, back in the early 1900s, Hartlepool had a brilliant boxer called Jasper Carter. People today will never have heard of him, but almost 100 years ago he put Hartlepool on the fistic map.

My aspirations never lay with boxing, but that's the way I was pushed. I was still a choirboy when I started boxing because I remember I went to choir practice every Wednesday night. I missed some Wednesday nights if I was boxing and then when I missed it I'd have to tell the choirmaster why. I had a battle between the choir and boxing. When my voice inevitably broke, boxing won.

My father was always suppressing the softer side of my nature; it seemed to have disappeared in the course of those boxing lessons, that's what boxing did to me. My father took away the real me and replaced all what I could have been by imposing his brutal regime of terror upon me.

He spouted out, 'Richy, I've just been talking to a bloke from Blackpool on the phone, there's a boxing show tomorrow night and they are desperate for a heavyweight. Will you fight?' I retorted, 'Are you joking. I haven't trained for four months; I'll be blowing after thirty seconds.' He pleaded, 'Howay, man. It'll be a night out down Blackpool.

He was very cock sure of himself. He came at me and threw a big slow right, but he was so slow that he had telegraphed it to me and I'm ready for it and block it. I put a couple of big jabs on him and he went down like the Titanic, maybe quicker.

Behind the bar hung a photo of Roni Loveless, the boxer who, ordered to throw a fight, burst through an inner struggle to beat not only his opponent but everyone in the arena and its locality in an outward-blooming explosion of violence against suppressive mediocrity.

The sky is the limit for me, but in boxing you have to take it one fight at a time.

I definitely want to fight Breazeale. It doesn't need to be PBC; it can be Matchroom and Sky Sports. If he wants to fight, we can fight. It's an easy fight to make. Let's make it.

I don't get complacent, because I know if you slack off, you're going to be found out. This is international boxing, and every fight is a tough fight.

In America, they slag each other off at the press conference, then get in the ring and don't do anything.

I think the whole boxing world was sleeping on me. They were sleeping on me hard.

I made an instant connection with boxing right away. Boxing became such a part of me. I ate boxing, I slept boxing, I lived boxing. Boxing was a way of expressing myself because I was not that outspoken.

My thing is that if you love the sport, appreciate the sport as a whole. If you love the sport, you love the slick boxer; you love the guy who can box and punch. You love the brawler.

I can slip a punch, not by three inches, but by a centimetre. Just have it brush past me. And raise an eyebrow at the same time.

There's a lot of big fights potentially out there for me, but none of them are possible if I slip up against N'Dam.

Rampage's footwork is atrocious. His boxing is slipping. He doesn't take the fight game seriously.

My grades started dropping, and when I sleep all day and come to the gym I'd have a slow day. I needed rules, I guess, in boxing and to just help me, period.