B
BOXING GYMS, renowned for their simplicity, often
double as shrines to the elite. In Las Vegas, banners for
The Money Team hang under a wall of fight posters at the
May weat her Box ing Club, a n unsubt le ack nowledgement
of Floyd Mayweather’s achievements. Wild Card officially
belongs to Freddie Roach, but even the Hall of Fame trainer
will concede that it’s the House That Manny Pacquiao
Built, w it h pic t ures of a t r iumpha nt Pacquiao wa llpaper-
ing Roach’s Hollywood club.
Katie Taylor is the biggest name in women’s boxing,
the undisputed champion at 135 pounds, No. 1 pound-
for-pound, a box office draw from New York to London.
She trains in a nondescript brick building in central
Connecticut, beneath a wall-sized mural of “Marvelous”
Mykquan Williams, a fringe 140-pound prospect, and
opposite a sign inviting fans to a meet-and-greet with
even fringier former featherweight Matt Remillard.
Evidence of Taylor’s presence is nonexistent. “It would
be nice to have one picture,” says Taylor, laughing. “But
I’m happy here.”
Taylor, 35, doesn’t need the attention. Doesn’t want it.
Hates it, really. Has already had it. There’s the good, the
flowery coverage of Taylor’s improbable rise, the daugh-
ter of a light heavyweight who fought her way out of an
impoverished neighborhood in Ireland to win gold in the
2012 Olympics. And the bad, the split from her father, who
doubled as her trainer, that made the intensely private
Taylor deeply uncomfortable. An anonymous existence in
New England just... fits. “Her hobbies are training and
shopping on Amazon for training gear,” says Ross Enamait,
her trainer. “This environment just suits her.”
Enamait, a 45-year-old reformed investment banker, is
why Taylor is in Connecticut. Norfolk-born, Enamait had a
decent amateur career that was derailed by a series of hand
injuries. He picked up a degree in finance from UConn
and entered private life. But the boxing itch stayed with
him. After attending the middleweight title fight between
Bernard Hopkins and Félix Trinidad in 2001, he started
working with amateur fighters. He made training DVDs.
He self-published six books. In ’16, Taylor, her career at
a crossroads following an early exit at the Olympics,
emailed Enamait. She asked whether he would work
with her, offering to f ly to Connecticut. “She essentially
trained herself for the Olympics,” says Enamait, “which
was insane.” Enamait liked what he saw and suggested
Taylor turn pro. “You could have a fast track,” he told her.
Six years, 20 wins, titles in two weight divisions later,
Taylor is still in Connecticut, still with Enamait. On
April 30 she will headline at the Garden. “People laughed
at me when I said I wanted to be an Olympic champion,”
says Taylor. “They never would have believed this.”BRAY, IRELAND—POPULATION 31, 000 —is a quiet
bedroom community on the commuter line to Dublin.
Taylor grew up in Ballywaltrim, a working-class neighbor-
hood, the youngest of four siblings. Her father, Pete, won
the Irish light-heavyweight title in 1986. He began training
his two sons, Lee and Peter, when they were teenagers.
When Katie was 11, she decided she wanted in. “There’s
something very addictive about a boxing gym,” she says.
“The sound, the smell, the people—I just loved all of it.”
One problem: In the late 1990s, women’s boxing was
banned in Ireland. Taylor could train and spar, but there
were no sanctioned amateur fights. Behind the scenes,
Taylor’s parents—her mother, Bridget, was Ireland’s first
female boxing judge—lobbied the Irish Amateur Boxing
Association. Taylor, meanwhile, would tuck her hair under
her headgear and register at boys tournaments under the
name “K Taylor.” Eventually, the Irish authorities relented.
In 2001, Taylor, then 15, defeated Alanna Audley in the
country’s first official women’s boxing match.
Success followed quickly. Five
world titles. Six European cham-
pionships. In her 20s, Taylor aban-
doned a promising soccer career
(she had been offered several schol-
arships to U.S. colleges) to focus on
boxing. When the Olympics added
women’s boxing in 2012—a land-
mark moment widely credited to
public pressure applied by Taylor
in the years leading up to it—Taylor
stormed to gold in the 132-pound
division. Natasha Jonas, an early-
round opponent, suggested she
couldn’t have beaten Taylor with
the benefit of driving a bus into her.
Her ascent seemed unstoppable—
until it nearly unraveled. In 2016,
Taylor abruptly split from Pete.ST
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TAYLOR VS. SERRANO
20 /2 0
VISION
Taylor ran
her pro record
to 20–0 and
remained the
undisputed
lightweight
champ with a
decision over
Firuza Sharipova
in Liverpool
last December.