James DeGale vs George Groves (Full Amateur Fight)

James DeGale vs George Groves Amateur Bout

Thought i'd post this up as there alot of hype around who won this Amateur Bout...

Take a look for yourself

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Behind The Ropes ~ DeGale v Groves

A close look at the upcoming British Super-Middleweight title bout between James DeGale and George Groves at the o2 arena in London this weekend.

Part 1


Part 2



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James DeGale - Chunky remains firmly grounded in all the hot air



'Boxing makes you look at yourself and feel all your fears and doubts,' says James DeGale


There is so much bull in boxing that it is increasingly difficult to separate fact from friction. But any blood spilled when James DeGale and George Groves meet at London's O2 Arena on 21 May unquestionably will be bad. Their animosity is for real, making this a genuine grudge match which goes beyond the traditional ticket-selling trash talk. It might even be Benn v Eubank revisited.


The public love a bit of loathing and there's that in abundance between the two unbeaten super-middleweights who live within epithet-spitting distance in west London, but whose feelings towards each other are less than neighbourly.

"Yeah, it's personal all right," growls DeGale, the Olympic gold medallist and new British champion. "I can't stand him and it's mutual. It goes back 10 years. Basically he's been living in my shadow. He beat me [holding up his two index fingers to italicise the phrase] in the national championships but two years later it was me they chose for the Olympics. We both boxed for the same amateur club and since I won that gold medal he's always been bitter and a bit jealous."

DeGale's "that ugly ginger kid" taunting of the 23-year-old Commonwealth champion may be wearing a bit thin, but be assured there will be more vitriolic verbals between now and first bell. He is just warming up.

"Groves is a fake. He thinks he's David Haye but he's just a puppet. Adam Booth [Groves's manager] has his hand right up his backside, talking for him, telling him what to say and what to do.

"At least with me, what you see is what you get. I just tell you the way it is. People may say I'm disrespectful and rude, me calling him the ugly kid and all that, but the truth is we don't like each other. It's serious. Obviously some people don't like me either, they say I'm arrogant and that I think I'm it, but if at the end of the sentence they say, 'Well, he's a good fighter', then I'm happy with that."

DeGale may be flash, brash and rather full of himself but he reckons he is entitled to be as an Olympic and now British champion, with only 10 bouts under his belt. He has had his doubters but even they must admit he is beginning to look the business. Moreover, in a trade where chutzpah and charisma carry as much clout as a left hook, he is a not-unwelcome addition to boxing's thinning crowd-pulling club.

For his part, Groves says DeGale is "the most arrogant, egotistical person I've ever known – I can't wait to smash his face in". While he has been training with his stablemate and mentor Haye in Angelo Dundee's famed Fifth Street Gym on Miami Beach, DeGale remains content to do his own sweating in less fashionable Loughton, in a gymnasium attached to a football academy tucked away down an Essex country lane where the white Jaguar XK Coupe parked outside indicates that the boy's done good.

There's also a black Range Rover at home in Harlesden, an apartment some 300 metres down the road from his mum and dad – not that he spends much time there. "I tried living on my own but I couldn't do any cooking or washing for myself. I lasted for a couple of weeks, then moved back home. My mum now looks after my business and they keep me on the straight and narrow. When they are doing my head in, I can escape to the apartment for a night – but then I always come home again."

It is three weeks before the fight and DeGale is in tremendous nick. He strokes his well-honed six-pack. "Obviously this is the biggest fight of my career so far, a massive grudge match. That's why I'm taking it so seriously. I'm on the road at six in Epping Forest, an hour and a half pounding the hills, weights strapped to my back. Then I go back to my coach's place, have breakfast, sleep. Then I go to the gym for a two-hour session, give it everything, and back home to chill and recover. That's all I do. That's it, that's my life.

"It's hard, pretty intense, but you only get out of it what you put in. Boxing is really all I have done since I was 10. It's something I'm good at. I wake up with a big smile on my face every morning, knowing I am going to do something I love. I have friends who envy me, knowing they have got to sit in an office all day long. But of course, I've got to be honest, when that alarm goes off, I sometimes think to myself, 'Oh gawd, I don't want to get out of bed', because I know what that buggerMcDonnell [his trainer Jim, a former European featherweight champion] has got in for me today. Then I think of the fight, the crowds and the packed O2, the eighth or ninth round coming up and I know I have to do it.

"When I turned pro, I weren't too sure who I was going to go with and when I came to this gym and he put me through a session, at first I thought: 'Do I need this shit in my life? Is this for real?' But I am so glad I went with him. He's unbelievable.

"Boxing makes you look at yourself and feel all your fears and doubts. You can seem very alone when you are waiting to go into that ring. But I've got a fantastic promoter [Frank Warren], a coach who's been there and done it and a great family. If it weren't for my family, I'd have gone the wrong route, and who knows where I'd be today. Not here doing this, that's for sure. So I owe every last bit to them. I'm a very lucky boy.

"This is going to be a very emotional fight, I know I've got to keep my cool," he adds. "When you fight, you have to be controlled. Controlled aggression is the name of the game. And it's hard holding it back. Step through the ropes and it hits you, it's like trying to hold back a runaway train. That's what you train for, to learn control. It's an art. It is. People think you're going in there and trying to smash the other guy's face in. But it's a million miles from that.

"I honestly can't see how Groves is going to beat me. He can't outbox me – in fact I don't think there's anyone in the world who can do that – and if he comes to fight, he'll get knocked out. Whatever he brings, we've got covered. The trouble with gingernut is that he has more balls than brains."

So there's no love lost between DeGale and Groves, but that commodity is no stranger in the life of "Chunky". Olympic gold proved to be a magnet for the ladies, and while he admits to having been "a very busy boy" in that direction, he is now in a stable relationship. "I've been seeing the same girl now for seven months. She's a PA in a City bank. She's met the family and she's actually lasted for two fights, which is a bit of a record for me. She's all right."

The one thing that scares him, he confesses, is the thought of losing. "Nothing else. That's why I put heaps of pressure on myself. I pile it on, especially the verbals. A couple of people have said, 'Don't go with the mouth', but I'm not going to change. Before the Olympics, they tried to give me lessons, trying to make me sound more posh and articulate, but it made me feel a bit of a prick.

"I've got a fast mouth but I ain't particularly articulate and I'm thinking even as I'm doing it, 'What are you talking about, boy, stop it. Be yourself.' And that's what I've decided to be: just be me, a normal 25-year-old doing something he loves.

"I ain't super-rich yet, though I ain't complaining – but I want to earn lots more money, win lots of world titles and be considered one of the greatest fighters ever to come out of Britain – if not the greatest.

"I know I'm far from the finished article, but on a scale of one to 10, I say I am a five. No, make that a four. But I'm getting there."

Life and times

According to his mother, Diane, James "Chunky" DeGale looked like a boxer from the day he was born in Hammersmith, west London, on 3 February 1986.

She said the first thing she noticed was his clenched fists, which got him kicked out of two schools in his early years. But with a little family guidance he began to put them to better use at the Dale Youth Boxing Club, winning numerous amateur titles and international honours.

A switch-hitting southpaw, he beat the Cuban favourite Emilio Correa at the 2008 Beijing Olympics to become the first British middleweight gold medallist since 1968, an achievement which earned him an MBE and a seven-figure professional contract from promoter Frank Warren.

His father, Leroy, who is of French-Caribbean descent, hid in a cupboard because he couldn't bear to watch the final on TV – but emerged £11,000 richer after betting on his son to win at pre-Games odds of 80-1.

Since turning pro in January 2009 his record is 10-0 with eight knockouts, and last December he became the British super-middleweight champion in only his ninth bout, pounding holder Paul Smith in nine rounds in the Liverpudlian's home town. He also holds the WBA International belt.

Nicknamed "Chunky" by his first coach because of his youthful chubbiness, the flamboyant DeGale was booed on his pro debut and jokes that nowadays he is better known as "Marmite", "because they either love me or hate me".

Such is the genuine animosity between him and Commonwealth champion George Groves, who once beat him as an amateur, their domestic showdown is set to sell out London's O2 Arena on 21 May.

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James DeGale stops Paul Smith to claim British Super-middleweight title

James DeGale is as cocksure as he is buttery-smooth inside the ropes. And after claiming a first title in just a ninth professional outing, in Liverpool , the 24-year-old can bat away any accusation of failing to walk the walk.

The Harlesden fighter dispossessed Paul Smith of his British super-middleweight title in a contest that got warmer as the rounds piled up.

DeGale, though, does need to temper his attitude a little. His ring craft was blighted by an ongoing array of gesticulations and he seems more concerned with an ongoing dialogue with the crowd than focusing solely on landing the blows.

His display included sticking his tongue out at Smith, and an eye-balling of his opponent at the close of the second. And, when warned by the referee, Howard Foster, for a low blow in the sixth, appearing to use his fist to make a rude gesture.

In the seventh, DeGale found his backside on the canvas but he had merely slipped. Before and after he was a blur of flicking jabs, hooks and lefts that cut Smith and drew the local boy continually on to damage with impressive skill.

In the ninth, DeGale became the champion. Lefts were raining down on Smith, who lacked no courage and, after he attempted to rally, a final left snapped his head back and more punches followed. Foster finished the fight after two minutes and eight seconds of the round.

Earlier, Nathan Cleverly was pretty far from erudite in claiming the vacant WBO interim light-heavyweight title against Nadjib Mohammedi, a 25-year-old Frenchman only called into action late as a replacement for Alejandro Lakatos.

The decision was unanimous, the performance sluggish. 115-112, 116-111, 115-113 the judges deemed Cleverly had triumphed yet he was smart enough to concede he had been unconvincing.
"That was frustrating," he said. "The change of opponent didn't do any good. This guy was a mover, so awkward. I saw no videos and before I knew it he was moving like Naz [Prince Naseem]. But it's the sign of a true champion that I came back and won."

Kell Brook retained his status as the mandatory challenger for Manny Pacquiao's WBO welterweight title after he took down Philip Kotey, a Ghanaian who appeared far from keen to share the ring with him, inside two rounds.

Brook unloaded one stinging right that slid Kotey backwards before following with a left that further staggered the 28-year-old's senses.

Warren was unsure whether Brook might challenge Pacquiao. "We'll see if he [Pacquiao] vacates it," he said.
Matthew Macklin defended his European middleweight belt with a disappointing unanimous win.

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James DeGale Says "I’m a love him or hate him type of guy, Mr Marmite’

For a sport that has left many of its participants lisping over torn lips, boxing has a track record of merging myth and mouth. The present king of self-promotion is working in a gym in Essex, beneath the graffiti slogan “pain’s temporary, pride’s forever”, and makes no attempt to hide his ambition.

“I’m not going to sit here and be humble” he says.

This is James DeGale, the Olympic middleweight champion, almost a year into his professional career. It started with boos and unwelcome Audley Harrison analogies. There was criticism from Chris Eubank, David Haye and Joe Calzaghe. DeGale, some felt, was all style and no substance.

“I know I’m good and where I’m going,” he says over coffee at The Academy in Loughton. “I don’t want to be famous, just very, very rich and get all the accolades. It sounds big-headed but I can’t see me losing until, maybe, the big, big fights in Vegas.”

Not everything in black and white makes sense and DeGale is far more charming and likeable than often comes across in print. He says he has already won people over after five unbeaten bouts and tomorrow’s London debut at Wembley Arena against Matthew Barr will be a happy homecoming for the Harlesden boy. The British title, he insists, will come by the end of the year, the world in 2012.

“I think in a few years he will be the best pound-for-pound fighter in the business,” Jim McDonnell, his coach, says.

McDonnell is the former super-featherweight who ended Barry McGuigan’s career and took Azumah Nelson, the brutal Ghanaian boxer, 12 rounds. He has a vested interest, but says a trip to train at Floyd Mayweather Jr’s gym in Las Vegas last August backed up the belief. “Over here they say James is overtraining, but he’s training for a six-round fight and a 12-round career,” he says. “Mayweather said rest is for the unemployed. I put the stopwatch on him and he was still going after two hours, 47 minutes. That’s why he’s the best.”

The ability to marry a work ethic with outlandish soundbites is often hard to grasp. Eubank, ironically, did not and questioned whether DeGale, 24 last week, had the hunger. “He’s been very, very silly,” DeGale says. “He said that and then rings me up chatting bears*** for hours. He says, ‘I can’t be your friend, I’m more like a father figure.’ David Haye, the muppet, said something daft, but me and him don’t get along because I’m better looking.”

The vanity smacks of Muhammad Ali, the undisputed epithet champion, and DeGale makes no apology for enjoying the spoils of hard graft. But one associate, who runs with McDonnell, said his initial doubts about the flash talk were silenced when he saw the sweat on the floor. He added that it is natural that young men talk about sex.

He is right and so as someone shouts out “Bridge too far” as a punchline to a gag about John Terry, DeGale holds court. “I used to get all the birds but now it’s gone unbelievable,” he says. “Boxing is my main bird now. One day I’ve got to find a girl and fall in love, but life at the minute is great. I won’t have sex for five days before a fight. I’ve heard fighters go eight weeks without. I could not go eight, six, four. That’s mental.”
DeGale is a fighter not a lover, but he says he was with a woman for six years. “It was sad and we still speak,” he says. “I don’t know, maybe in a couple of years we’ll be back together. She looked after me. She was like having another Mum.”

His real mum, Diane, sorted him out at the age of 15 when he was smoking dope and sneaking out of his bedroom at night. “She came and got me, gave me a little box and said, ‘James, I can’t hack it no more, I’m sending you to social services,’ ” he says. “I was crying and pleading with my dad. ‘Please help me, give me one more chance.’ I had to cut some people off after that and it hurt me.”

Soon after, he was boxing as an amateur in Las Vegas. By the time he got to the Olympics in 2008, the media realised he was different and referenced his brief spell at stage school. In the semi-final he beat Darren Sutherland, an Irishman who had won four of their previous five meetings, before overcoming a Cuban to take the gold.

Then, last year, Sutherland hanged himself in his London home. “He’d got everything,” DeGale says. “He’d got his Olympic bronze and he’d moved down to London, but you don’t know what’s happening in people’s heads. I thought it was a sick joke when I heard. Unbelievable. Me, I’m lucky. I wake up with a big smile on my face.”

A smile on his face and Sutherland’s initials on his shirts, DeGale’s conversation keeps returning to Mayweather. DeGale was made to pay $50 (£31) a round to spar in Las Vegas, but says it was worth it. “He has all the mouth and the entourage,” DeGale says. “But the impressive thing was the work.”
The swag and swagger also appeal. “I don’t think I’ll be like Hatton,” he says. “I’m a love-him or hate-him guy. Mr Marmite. I’d rather be like Mayweather than a silly boy who’s so boring. I’m here to make history.”

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