Photo: Courtesy of www.boxingscene.com
Article: Courtesy of www.standard.co.uk
The weigh-in is over and the weights are in, as read out by the unmistakably sweet, caramel tones of Master of Ceremonies Michael Buffer.
I clocked in at 210lbs, or 15st, and my opponent, Dereck Chisora, scaled 247lbs or 17st 6lbs. This all means Chisora will carry a significant weight advantage over me come tomorrow night but none of it is particularly healthy or useful.
He will be weighed down by the excess fat hanging from his neck, arms, midriff and legs and, though the numbers may be favourable in one sense, the idea of having 37lbs of fat added to my chiselled frame makes me recoil in horror and reach for the nearest celery stick.
In all honesty, if Chisora stripped away all the fat on his body, we’d probably weigh roughly the same.
Those 37lbs are the difference between a finely-tuned athlete and a finely-fed one. Bigger isn’t always better and I’ll be out to prove that once again at Upton Park tomorrow night.
Remember, this isn’t the first time I’ve been outweighed by an opponent in a fight. In fact, since moving to heavyweight in 2008, I have been outweighed by every single one of my rivals and, in the case of Nikolay Valuev, by a whopping 100lbs or 7st.
Compared to that, Chisora’s so-called advantage is nothing. Furthermore, he is at least an inch shorter than me, possesses shorter arms and is there for me to hit all night long.
Chisora also has a head that is at least twice the size of mine. That’s all I look for and hope for in a heavyweight opponent. I’ve no doubt my lighter, sharper frame will be finding plenty of target on which to unload in a little over 24 hours’ time.
In terms of the weigh-in spectacle, I looked across the stage — through that now infamous steel fence — and saw an opponent who truly believes he can beat me.
Chisora has belief in his ability and thinks I’m ready-made for him. I’ve stared into the eyes of previous opponents and been unable to detect that same confidence or, perhaps, sheer delusion.
But, to his credit, Chisora has it. I have no idea what has brought it on, nor what it’s based on, but Dereck really believes he can win the fight. I saw it in his crazy eyes.
Of course, his mouth continued to talk utter nonsense. However, with the weigh-in and press conferences now over, I won’t have to listen to much more of it.
The next sound I hear from dear Dereck will be the pained squeal he releases as my body shots land, or the grimace he makes as I nail him on the inside with big uppercuts.
Mark my words, that will happen tomorrow night and you will hear him scream in pain.
Those noises will then be followed by the count of the referee and the sobs of his stupidly brave trainer, Don Charles, as he waves the magic white towel over the top rope. My prediction? Their pain will last for as long as I decide to make it last.