Michael Conlan can hardly believe what has happened to him since he stepped out of the ring at the Rio Olympics eight months ago, leaving the amateur sport and some toweringly incompetent officials with several choice words to contemplate as he headed for an uncertain future.
This is not the way he had imagined he might finish in the sport that had been part of his life since he was a small boy in Belfast. The clever bantamweight, Ireland’s last hope in the tournament, was certainly unlucky that not one of the Brazilian, Sri Lankan or Polish judges thought he had done enough to beat the Russian Vladimir Nikitin in their quarter-final bout that August afternoon. Those gentlemen were very much in the minority.
It was not the usual sort of bad luck he suffered; every boxer has that now and again. Conlan is convinced he was unlucky because those sitting in judgment on his progress in the tournament had cheated him. They were, the world champion shouted loudly in a post-fight interview that shocked everyone present, “fucking cheats”.
He added later: “I came for gold and I’ve been cheated. I’ll not do another Olympics. I would advise anybody not to compete for the Aiba (Amateur International Boxing Association). At the end of the first round it had been so easy, so comfortable, I wasn’t even out of breath. I said: ‘I’ll win this easy.’ But I was told I was down. I had to go to war. I fought him at his own game. I pulled back that second round, then I outfought him in the last round. I’ve been robbed of my Olympic dream.”
The Aiba cringed. Its all-powerful president, Dr Wu – a man with ambitions to bring all of boxing, amateur and professional, under one umbrella – struggled to contain his anger. “He immediately showed his finger to the referee-judges. Disciplinary action will follow. You can’t humiliate in public our judges.”
All of that is a good approximation of what happened, even though the Aiba did not follow through on its threat and tried to sugar the consequences with watered-down sanctions for several judges who had been serially inconsistent throughout the Olympic fortnight.
Not that Conlan cared much by that stage, or now. At 24 and the owner of a chestful of amateur medals at all levels, he moved on – even if that was never what he had planned. Speaking on Monday from New York, where he will make his professional debut on Friday, Conlan, now 25, said: “To be honest with you, I was concerned about the consequences of all that. I really was. I had no thoughts then of turning professional and was worried what might happen. But I’m happy with the way it has worked out.”
You could say that. Having teamed up with the former world title challenger Matthew Macklin, Conlan has got himself a dream gig: headlining at Madison Square Garden in his professional debut on St Patrick’s Day. It is almost beyond cliche. Macklin went as far as to say: “I believe Michael can become the greatest Irish boxer of all time.”
His opponent is not altogether threatening. Tim Ibarra from Colorado is 26 and has won four and lost four [twice by stoppage] as a pro, although Conlan is rightly vigilant about any unexpected turn of events; Rio is strong in his memory.
“All of ringside will be there for me, from home and from here as well, the Irish on St Patrick’s Day in New York. Unbelievable. It’s quite something and top of the bill. I know Ibarra will not be coming to lie down. They are like that over here; they all come to win, no matter what their record. I’ve not seen a lot of him but I will be ready.
“It might be a bit odd next fight after topping the bill at Madison Square Garden on St Patrick’s Day but I’m really excited about my career. I’ll probably have five or six fights in the next year or so and then step up but after five years I want to be out of boxing, having made enough money to retire.”
Last Friday Conlan watched his brother, Jamie, survive yet another ring war, getting off the canvas to turn back the challenge of the relentless Nicaraguan Yader Cardoza and win the vacant WBC International Silver super-flyweight belt at the Waterfront Hall in Belfast.
Jamie invariably boxes as if his house is being burgled. Michael takes a more circumspect route to the closing bell.
“I don’t know why exactly we have different styles,” Michael said, “but definitely I have always been more inclined to box, although I do have that in me if it’s needed. I am perfectly capable of going to war, but I have always found it a better way to box my way through.”
And, fine an amateur as he was, the professional game might be better suited to his patient and calculating methods – the opposite of the final round of his unpaid career in Rio.
“The big difference between the amateurs and the pros is [professional boxing] is definitely slower,” he says. “I sort of knew that before but I have come to realise it more fully since I started training with the pros.
“In the amateurs you are throwing a lot more punches because that is how you score. In the professionals you have to slow down a little, pick your punches, don’t be in such a hurry with hand or foot movement.”
As for how fast his tongue might operate, that is all in what should be an exciting future.
