The conversation with Tony Bellew was idling towards an emotional conclusion as he reflected on what mattered to him in life: family, home, friends, Everton Football Club. And then the fighter detailed in a chilling blast of invective what he was going to do to David Haye at the O2 Arena in London on Saturday night.
“I want to cause havoc,” he said, eyes on fire. “I want to cause mayhem – and I mean the worst mayhem you can see. Something happens to me [in the ring]. I’m gonna flick a switch. I want to do damage. I swear when I get him on Saturday, he’s going to pay for every word. I’m going to smash him. And I’m not going to stop. He’s finished. He has no idea what’s coming.
“I know what I’m capable of. I’m a horrible fucker when I’ve got boxing gloves on. I’ve let sparring partners off the [hook] so many times in this camp. I’ve wobbled them, rocked them. Without being big-headed I could have rendered every single sparring partner unconscious if I chose to. I’ve been that sharp and that vicious. I’m telling you now, Saturday I will knock the shit out of this fella. I will take him out and it’s going to be horrible. That’s not nice. I just wish this fucking anger and rage would go, but it won’t.”
It was a tirade only a fighter could properly defend, or understand – and it sounded so much like Haye in his pomp.
Moments earlier, Bellew had spoken with quiet sorrow about the death of his brother-in-law, Ashley, who fell to his death from a balcony on a family holiday in Cancun last August.
“What my family’s been through I can’t even put into words. We’re very close. It’s really, really hard. It’s in my thoughts, when I’m sitting here. I think about Ashley’s mum and dad. I really do.”
He spoke, too, about how his 12-year-old son was being ragged at school before the first fight, taunted that his father was going to be knocked out.
“Our Corey likes to think he can have a fight, the fact is he couldn’t fight sleep. He’s a lovely looking boy. Looks just like his mother, a handsome kid. I wouldn’t be fighting if I had his looks when I was a kid.”
Friday’s weigh-in passed without incident, although they managed a few ritual verbals. Away from the microphone, Haye whispered to Bellew: “I’m going to take my time with you. I’m going to chop you down. It’s going to be slow and painful. I’m going to make sure you suffer.”
Haye looked his body-beautiful self at 15st 10lb, a stone lighter than 14 months ago. Bellew weighed just over 15st, three pounds lighter than in March 2017.
during last year’s fight. Photograph: Andrew Couldridge/Reuters
The numbers that will count will be heavy blows landed, and Haye reckons his new Cuban coach, Ismael Salas, has fixed a long-standing fault in his footwork that will enable him to get more leverage on his already awesome punches.
“I fought like a lunatic in the first fight. All the shots I was missing are going to be landing. Ismael has rewired my legs,” Haye said. “In the first fight – and even in the two previous fights – my legs weren’t connected. He’s noticed that. This is the best I’ve felt in 10 years. A lot of operations, a lot of punches in that time. But it feels right – and it will feel very wrong for Tony.”
While Bellew has raged this time, Haye has gone for an almost super-soft approach. He has praised his conqueror repeatedly, only to be rebuffed. Bellew, a master of intransigence, picks at his ego, agreeing with nothing, arguing over nothing too.
“In all honesty he’s a proper gobshite,” Bellew says. “I think he’s a tit. He’s got a mask on. He’s doing really well hiding his feelings and emotions. Why is he having to answer to me, a little fat Scouser? It shows how far back he’s gone. It infuriates him that I’ve got any kind of demands at all over him.
“He knows he can’t say all the things he said last time because the media won’t absorb it. I’m not here for the media. I’m not here for the public. I’m here because this is my job. I just tell the truth. Some people don’t like it. Some people do. I’m just telling you exactly how I feel.”
Bellew is scornful too that Haye is still fighting six years after he said he would be out of the business at 31.
“Why can’t he just be honest and say: ‘Listen, I’ve earned £20m, I’ve pissed it up the wall, I’ve gone through a few things and I need to get more money.’ Just be humble and say it. I wouldn’t be fighting. My legacy is secure. I don’t give a shit if everyone remembers me or not. That’s what these fights are about. Money. Don’t get me wrong: I want to win, and I’ll do whatever it takes. But I know what I’m saying: he’s back for money.”
Haye’s response was quick and quiet. “People have been saying that for years.” For the only time in his career, Haye has been out-talked this week. As Salas says: “Actions speak louder than words.” And there will be more of the former on Saturday night, with the latter reserved to announce the winner. I expect that to be Haye, pushed near to the limit over 12 rounds, and maybe persuaded that, finally, he has survived long enough in this business.
