DILLIAN WHYTE is a funny guy. During lunch, at the start of a weekend of fools and heroes, he joked about his three dishes. He deftly moved through the slow-cooked venison carp and beef cheek like a dream chef.
He laughed until he burst into tears while talking about Dictaphones. Then he was assured by the media gathering and alarming that he could leave their phones on the table and that he didn’t need to stow 10 devices in the bin.
He talks lovingly about his seven dogs in Portugal. He was separated from them while remaining in California under the care and control of Buddy McGirt. He’s the newest apostle at Buddy’s door, and he won’t be the last. They get on.
And when the streaks of brown sugar, capers and lime sauce were finally wiped off the plate, he turned serious. And when Dillian Whyte gets serious, he has an endless list of topics to cover. The wrongs, the rights, the fights, the WBC, the boxing industry and the people who run it. Rest assured, Whyte hasn’t finished his boxing duties yet.
And it’s been a long, long journey to get here. Forget the one he had as a kid, the shootings, stabbings, kidnappings, violence and threats. His life in the ring was the real carnival of his life. He just shakes his head at the reminder of his early days, the forgotten nights – the nights when he had high hopes fighting for the world title as a polar bear triumphing over Master Chef. By the way, he tried that program.
Whyte is a survivor. His mold was thrown away. There will be no more people like Dillian Whyte in our business. Harry Greb, Sam Langford, George Chuvalo followed the same path. I might even add Tony Booth to the list; they are warriors with something different in their style, their history on both sides and the way they live. It’s not always about money. Or, the titles.
So over stewed chicken and fried eggs, Whyte talked about those long lost days. “I don’t make money from some fights. Not available. I just have to go out and fight – it’s fight or not fight. It’s not an option,” emphasized Whyte. He pays his opponent as he has to if that is the price to pay for a fight. He also wants to fight better opponents, men whose names are on their records and they pay the price of money. That’s how much money a boxer has to earn on the boxing circuit, away from lucrative TV deals, sponsors and supporters. He belongs to the last generation of men who will make millions of dollars from title fights and can still tell stories of fighting for nothing at places like the Coronet and Toxy Theaters.
“Dillian’s attitude is refreshing,” said Mickey Helliet, promoter, match-fixer, super agent and good guy. “He always just wanted to fight – he loved to fight.”
Dillian Whyte (right) nailed Hastings Rassani during their match at the Liverpool Olympia on January 21, 2012 (Scott Heavey/Getty Images)
Whyte was buried in a handful of small cards and had his first match at an entertainment center in Kent during a Kellie Maloney gig. The main event on Friday night 2011 was Sam Webb’s match with Prince Arron for the British light-middleweight title. It’s a decent bill, but being the debut boy means being buried deep, very deep under the 10-match card. It’s anonymous. Hands up, I missed it.
His (wallet) money is often determined by the quality of his opponents and where they fly to. His wallet is usually made up of the tickets he sells. It’s a cold business with no lights and a select few.
It’s not a complicated business: good losers from America are rare for that reason; they are overpriced, demanding, and annoying. A kid from Latvia or the Czech Republic flies on his own and picks up a coach to Manchester from Stanstead. A rowdy American heavyweight from Cleveland makes requests as if he were on his way to Rumble in the Jungle. Whyte wants to test and test costs a little more.
He will take the ticket and from the money of that ticket he will have to pay the opponent and if there is any money left, he will take his wallet from the ticket sale; there were times when there was nothing left and that meant he fought for nothing.
“God, this business is crazy,” Whyte added last week over lunch. “I have seen this business from all sides. Nothing surprises me; nothing shocked me.
In 13 of Whyteorder fighting, he met Brazilian grand prix, Marcelo Nascimento, in 2015 at the Camden Center. It was a costly war and not one that made general financial sense. How can it? Nascimento met Tyson Fury, Joseph Parker and Manny Charr. He was fresh after losing points to Eddie Chambers. It was a huge step forward for Whyte at the time and a fight was in sight. Whyte was given his tickets – cash upfront, by the way – and then had to go and sell them. Nascimento doesn’t come cheap; Whyte blocked him for two innings, knocking him down three times. It was worth every penny he never earned.
Last week, in a private dining room under the Charlotte Street Hotel, Whyte was a far cry from his Coronet and Troxy days. He’s a man with millions of depositors and millions more to come. However, he is also a man with history in a part of the game that very few boxers in the main events will ever have to go through. It’s refreshing to know that, after a weekend of insults and circus acts by players in Dubai, that some of the sport’s main attractions understand the sport’s roots. Whyte is a man from another time, make no mistake, no matter how many duck eggs you throw at his lightly fried steak.
