
Is it just me or does the world feel completely insane right now?
I mean I woke up the other day, made a cup of tea and by the time I’d found the milk, diesel had gone up another 11p a litre. Fuel prices are no longer spiralling per day but per kettle boil it would seem! I paid £18 for fish and chips on Good Friday and I’m still trying to figure out why a tank of petrol now costs roughly the same as a weekend getaway in Benidorm did in 2019.
Work isn’t work anymore. In fact, work has become a sort of ominous fog that follows you around. If you are anything like me you are never fully ‘at work’ these days, but you’re also never entirely out of office either. Emails arrive at bizarre hours, like polite little tech ghosts. “Just circling back,” they kick off with.
Nobody actually knows what that means by the way, but we all nod along anyway. And don’t even get me started about the weather.
Then there is the whole business of Derek Chisora and Deontay Wilder. The latter won the WBC heavyweight belt in 2015 by defeating Bermane Stiverne and held it until 2020. In all Wilder made 10 successful defences of his illustrious WBC title and if you’d even dared suggest around that time that Wilder would start a non-title fight against Chisora at the 02 Arena in 2026 as a 7/4 betting outsider, you may well have been detained under the Mental Health Act.
But that was the reality going into Saturday evening’s big fight on DAZN. Going in, both men had run up high career mileage. Both were seen as damaged goods.
In a weird bit of fistic symmetry, they had each fought 49 professional fights before Saturday so were reaching half a century of pro fights at the same time. What we didn’t know was whether either man could still put their foot on one pedal anymore.
And so 'The Bronze Bomber' and 'War' went head-to-head in a pay-per-view headliner on DAZN, and it was a bit special. This was not the sweet science. This was not hitting and not getting hit. This was something else. It was chaotic at times, but it was also glorious and some of the rounds just resembled a child smashing two action figures together.
The right man won by the way. Chisora went out on his shield and really couldn’t have given much more but Wilder was a bit sharper and punched with a bit more spite. Del Boy's tactics were OK. He knew he could not box Wilder at mid-range. He had to get close enough to the American to whip that right hand over the top. He managed to get close enough often enough but was unable to pull the trigger consistently enough when he was inside and land cleanly on his foe.
It was messy and it was exciting and both men should be commended for giving their all. The post-fight narratives alluded that this was the end for the Londoner, while Wilder may yet get his opportunity against Anthony Joshua, who was ringside willing Chisora on.
To consider Chisora now is to confront a man who has outlived not merely expectations, but actual eras. He has been, at various times, a prospect, a contender, a cautionary tale, a gatekeeper, an opponent and - most curiously - a cult hero.
The usual vocabulary of decline does not sit easily with him. Fighters are meant to fade in discernible stages; Chisora has preferred to fray at the edges while still somehow hold things together at the centre.
His meandering pro log is punctuated with defeats that might have discouraged a more orderly temperament. Indeed, he was deadly serious about walking away from the sport forever as far back as 2011 when he was jobbed on the cards against Robert Helenius in Helsinki.
While we all privately fear for Del Boy in old age given the wars he has endured, you can’t help but root for someone who takes each contest with the same rough enthusiasm regardless of consequence.
I’d been having a think over the last few days about when Chisora actually went from fight villain who didn’t do many tickets to ‘War’ Chisora, the national treasure who stands before us today.
My hunch is it’s probably around the time of the Carlos Takam fight - and more specifically the overhand right he uncorked on the Frenchman to claim an unlikely victory circa 2018. But it’s hard to be sure. For this is a fighter who has been going so long the ‘C’ has tapped out of his forename (for years he was billed as Dereck Chisora).
In an age increasingly given to the managed persona and the polished press release, Chisora’s unpredictability has lent him a peculiar authenticity. The now famous cheers of, “Ooooohhh, De-rek Chi-sor-a” were in evidence at the O2 at the weekend.
There was no question who the fans were there to see. He’s the people’s champ, a throwback - a reminder that beneath the titles and the cleverly spun promoter narratives, the sport is sustained by men of courage such as he who are willing to test themselves without guarantee of reward. His career may lack the symmetry, but he sure as hell won’t be forgotten in a hurry.
So here’s to you Derek, the perennial puncher still thriving amidst the chaos of modern living.
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