The Hopes of a Nation: Anthony Joshua Fights for Olympic Vindication

“Someone had a plan, somewhere,” British super-heavyweight Anthony Joshua philosophically explains, leaning back gently on his chair and contemplating potential canonization as one of Team GB’s greatest hopes for the London 2012 Olympic Games. “The timing has been perfect, it must have been written somewhere.”

An ingratiating smile is followed by a welcoming handshake; Joshua is cordial and charismatic, relaxed almost to the point of repose. Such assurance perhaps should be expected from a man who made the final of the World Amateur Championships in October this year, returning from Baku, Azerbaijan decorated in silver after losing narrowly to home favourite Magomedrasul Medzhidov. Not only did the medal establish Joshua as a genuine super-heavyweight prospect - an 18st, 6ft 6in force to be reckoned with – but sparkled as a glimmer of hope for the future of British boxing. But where his glistening trinket?

“It’s at home,” he assures me, a wry smile creeping across his face. “Would you wear it all the time? It’s at home, but not tucked away in a draw, I’ve got my little trophy cabinet. I can’t live off the World Championships, I’ve got to focus on what is next.”

For Joshua, as well as the room full of “potential Olympians” we find ourselves enveloped by, the silhouette of London 2012 is becoming increasingly discernable. After a problematic year - including the regrettably unavoidable news about his arrest for “possession with intent to supply a class B drug” – the 22-year-old has certainly matured, emerging from the shackles of a troubling spell with enviable maturity and sacrificial dedication.

“I’m glad that the year is coming to an end because I’ve been through a lot. I’m glad to have come into 2012 with a lot of experience in life and boxing.”

I put to him the notion that no sport or profession can be deemed as lonely as boxing. “Not many people know that,” Joshua assents. “Trust me it is. You’ve got to make sacrifices, and not many people understand that.

“I’m 22 now, and this is the pinnacle time to be out clubbing, getting girls, spending all of your wages clothes, looking good, driving the flash car. As a boxer, it’s not really a glamorous sport. You’ve got to be grounded. All of that raving and stuff, you can do it, but it won’t win you fights. Girls, you can have them, but that isn’t what you need as a fighter. None of these things win me fights.”

Joshua’s court case in March proved a watershed moment; he explains how he stopped “running around the streets” and instead traded the nightclub for the gym.

“On Saturday nights, I used to love clubbing. I started running instead. I’d see everyone going out clubbing in their cars, they would be looking at me, thinking; “what is this geezer doing out on a Saturday night running?”

“But you have to live it, and this year I’ve learned a lot. Now I want to take it up a notch, see what I can achieve. Anyone can do it, we are all gifted in some way, but it’s how you apply yourself to it.”

Joshua’s maturity exceeds his age, and certainly his reputation, as he sits back comfortably with unruffled confidence. He is assured and sincere, though a darker streak emerges as he aptly describes himself as “boxer with power, a boxer with a bit of fight”.

Indeed, the masks often worn by each character involved in this blood sport - the unctuous promoter, the affable underdog, the consecrated champion - conceal an undercurrent of barbarism that will never be stripped from the essence of boxing. A mercilessly hardnosed business becomes a spectacle of entertainment for 48 minutes; but for Joshua the months before and after each fight offers plenty of time for contemplative silence.

“I want to live an isolated life,” Joshua explains candidly. “It’s good to isolate yourself; as you say, it’s a lonely sport. You can only rely on yourself. I know when I get in that ring, the guy in the other corner is ready to take my head off.”

The brutal history of boxing appeals to the primitive; yet this test of strength in its purest form, a brutally uncouth occasion, is often acted out with great elegance and skill. Despite all of the heartbreak and squalor, boxing is a drug. Joshua’s persona, kind and gregarious, veils a fighter who confesses to “know when to take someone out”.

“I got hit and I got that bug. We all start somewhere, and I used to get beaten up. I’d take shots and start thinking, “I’m going to get him back”.

“I trained and I trained. Sometimes you have got to hibernate, but for 10 or 11 months of the year, you have got to feed that bug. You have got to train. You have got to take your body through different levels. I’ve done some good training, some serious training, breaking boundaries.”

We discuss the geographical proximity of Joshua’s gym to Stratford – home of the London 2012 Olympics - and, coincidentally, to my own residence. Living in Golders Green and training in Barnet, Joshua rarely strays more than 10 miles from the Olympic venue, still an arms-reach from Olympic gold. If, as Joshua speculates, “it was written somewhere”, the writer had quite the imagination.

“I’m living in London now, so I’m there. Maybe one day we’ll go jogging together or something?” he suggests. “Come and train with me!”

Undeterred, I informally agree with little conviction, desperately evading the prospect of a sparring session, although his charm is infectious. As London 2012 approaches from behind the shadows of less prestigious events, there are few athletes I would rather see vindicated by Olympic gold. My own entheos is dwarfed by Joshua’s own excitement – cloaked by serenity - about competing on his own doorstep; few journey’s will have been longer than for the boy who lives just next door.

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