’LL concede defeat now: Ohara
Davies has won. By virtue of the
fact his name appears in the
headline of this article, Ohara
Davies has won. He has won
because it is attention he craves
and attention he shall receive.
He has won because instead of
writing about a more deserving boxer, I am keeping
it topical and focusing this piece on the latest Ohara
Davies comment to infuriate boxing fans, especially
those based in Liverpool. He has won for that reason,
too. (Antagonising Scousers, it seems, is the ultimate
win for Ohara Davies.)
He has won most of all, though, because boxers like
Ohara Davies always get talked about, always make
good money, and always come out on top. At
least that’s how it works in the land of OD.
“Nice guys finish last.”
It’s the sort of thing Ohara Davies tells
himself before his head hits the pillow
every night and before every training
session, every run, every meal, every video
he hopes will go viral and every insensitive
tweet grenade he aims at the entire city of
Liverpool (the latest, by the way, mentioned a
certain tabloid newspaper). Others, meanwhile, tell
Ohara Davies he needs to be more than just a boxer
and that his belief in this mantra – nice guys finish last- will serve him well so long as he doesn’t take it to its
extreme, which is to say or do something politically
incorrect and become The Ultimate Baddie.
Do that, they say, push it too far, and you’ll finish
last. You’ll lose.
When it goes wrong, as it did in December, it could
be argued social media is to blame. After all, without
it, how many of us would have heard of Ohara
Davies, let alone find him offensive? Its existence
and prominence, for better or worse, gives boxers
a voice they were once without and allows them
to self-promote away from traditional, regulated
channels. Emancipated, free from the shackles of their
promoter, they can say whatever is on their mind,
and create a character, a persona, that might be close
to the real thing but might also be something else
altogether.
Who, in that case, is Ohara Davies?
Ohara Davies is 25 years of age and a good,
powerful, exciting super-lightweight from Hackney,
London. His professional boxing record is 16-1.
He’s had to do it – boxing, life – the hard way. For all
I know, he could be a kind, generous and modest
young man. He might spot old ladies struggling to
walk and help them cross the road. He might have
gone carol singing at Christmas. He might love The
Beatles and sing Yellow Submarine in the shower.
But that’s not the character he wishes to portray
online, nor one he believes will get him very
far in his chosen profession. Alas, we are
treated to something else. Something
bigger, nastier, uglier. Something one
hopes does a disservice to his true
personality – he can’t be that bad, surely?- but, he hopes, generates buzz and
attention his true personality, and boxing
ability, isn’t capable of generating alone.
That’s the thing with personas in combat
sports. Create one and you think you’ve sussed the
game. (If savvy enough to get it right, you have. You’ll
receive publicity and make the kind of money your
peers, those without a voice, those unwilling to wear
bright colours and say outlandish things, can only
imagine.) But isn’t the mere creation of a persona
and the need to speak out of turn, aware of the
repercussions, in some way an admission that the
boxer in question understands they are not quite as
good as advertised?
This was certainly the overriding impression the
night Davies succumbed to Josh Taylor and emerged
not as a blue chip prospect, but as an explosive
puncher with flaws and limitations whose future now
relied more on his tongue than his talent. ➤
I
OHARA
★DAVIES★SPECIAL FEATUREHOW DO
YOU SOLVE A
PROBLEM LIKE
OHARA?
Davies caused a storm last month with an ill-advised tweet.
Elliot Worsell has his say on the controversial Londoner
18 lBOXING NEWSlJANUARY 11, 2018 http://www.boxingnewsonline.net