Ovill McKenzie denied by judges and cartoon bad guy in Argentine bear pit, writes Steve Bunce

McKenzie had accepted a world title fight at just 11 days’ notice

Steve Bunce
Friday 09 October 2015 19:11 BST
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Ovill McKenzie in action
Ovill McKenzie in action

There is a doorman from Derby called Ovill McKenzie and last Friday night in Buenos Aires he added his name to a list of British boxers who have glided under our sporting radar when he defied the odds in a foreign boxing ring.

McKenzie accepted a world title fight at just 11 days’ notice, packed his bags, travelled to east London where he trains, put together a travelling entourage and went on a 20-hour journey to Argentina. McKenzie has also, it needs to be said, scraped a living on the boxing circuit in the harshest of ways, losing 12 of his 37 fights.

There is nobody quite like him in British boxing, a smiling, often brutal finisher, a family man who has accepted every single blockade in the unfair business with a shrug and emerged stronger after each and every setback. He has been overmatched to get work, ignored, overlooked and never once has he complained.

He accepted the fight in Buenos Aires at such short notice because he knew that he would have slipped back to being an anonymous threat if he had refused when the offer came in. He was, thankfully, in shape, on the weight and desperate for the long overdue opportunity.

When McKenzie travelled to London in 2002 from Jamaica, where he ran a roadside food shack, he was a seasoned amateur campaigner, but in British boxing he was nothing more than an unknown hard man, a fighter willing to flit between weights to secure a payday and happy to fight at short, short notice.

McKenzie, now 35, lost six of his first 11 fights, often in the backyards of unbeaten boxers, moving up and down in weight by as much as 20 pounds. “I had to get a living, had to do what I had to do,” he said. He settled at light-heavyweight and won the Commonwealth title and then moved to cruiserweight where, last year, he eventually won both the Commonwealth and British titles.

Last Friday he conceded nearly 10 pounds when he met the reigning IBF champion, Victor Emilio Ramirez, at a futsal venue on the outskirts of Buenos Aires in an atmosphere of fear and intimidation.

The travelling party from the Peacock gym in London’s Canning Town are not, trust me, shrinking violets and they formed a savagely aware group at McKenzie’s side as they had to push, shove and fight their way to the ring.

It was a stinking bear pit, make no mistake, but McKenzie never stopped grinning as Jimmy Cliff’s “You Can Get It If You Really Want” attempted to lighten the oppressive mood as he arrived in the ring. It was not a smiling ringside, though, no cocktails delivered to women in gowns or louche men who had interrupted their gambling for a bit of blood.

Ramirez has the look of a cartoon bad guy, one of the silent henchmen from any spaghetti western or gritty Seventies cop film. He is the kind of man who never lasts long, either shot to pieces or garrotted, but always leaves an impression. On Friday he prowled the ring, glaring at McKenzie, and had to be pulled back to shake his hand.

The ring was tiny to help Ramirez hunt and trap McKenzie. The three judges sat surrounded by fans and family in a ringside that resembled an amateur boxing show at a local working men’s club; it was under the most oppressive levels of abuse and noise that the first bell sounded. Nobody heard it for sure but the men started fighting.

I have no idea what Stuart Lancaster’s men did late on Friday night but it is a pity the England rugby team were not corralled and made to watch McKenzie fighting for his life, in front of a mob and against a man with all the advantages. It was a long bout, not always pleasant to watch, and going into round 12 McKenzie was in front.

In that last round, with McKenzie’s frenzied corner standing, screaming and throwing every punch with him, it looked like he had secured the victory. Ramirez was chasing shadows, swiping in slow motion as McKenzie’s fists continued to pick him off.

There was finally a silence when the referee grabbed their wrists and pulled them into the centre of the ring in preparation to raise the winner’s hand. One judge went for Ramirez, one for McKenzie and the third for a draw. Ramirez kept his title, McKenzie won some type of victory, but sadly it is the type of victory that you cannot cash.

“The only thing hurting is my hands,” said McKenzie after the fight. “I won, I should be the champion. What more could I do?” McKenzie’s promoter in Britain, Frank Warren, will lodge a strong appeal with the IBF demanding an immediate rematch. McKenzie deserves it. I just doubt Ramirez will fight him again.

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