- Culture
- 24 May 06
Amir Khan is one of the hottest young British boxers in a generation. What makes his story especially interesting is that the Bolton Olympic silver medallist is an English Muslim child of Pakistani parents. He is due in Belfast shortly for his seventh professional encounter and, make no mistake, fight fans are in for a treat.
Since commencing his pro career last summer, Amir Khan has blazed a trail through the ranks, winning all six of his professional fights with displays of devastating speed and precision. The silver medallist at the Olympics in 2004, he is shaping up like a real contender, with the title of World Lightweight Champion his inevitable target. And we’re talking about sooner rather than later.
An acute judge of angles with supreme evasive instincts and lightning hand movement, Khan has subjected every opponent thus far to swift humiliation. It isn’t just that he has been winning. It’s that he has been winning in brilliantly ruthless style. There is no room for soft hearts in the ring. Even at this early stage, the belief is growing that the 19-year-old Bolton prodigy will realise his lofty ambitions. Khan himself – whose boundless confidence (without a hint of arrogance) shines through in an encounter with HOTPRESS, prior to his upcoming King’s Hall bout against respected Hungarian veteran Laszlo Komjathi – seems to believe that it is a matter of when and not if.
He is doing press to highlight his involvement in Reebok’s new RbK advertising campaign, with the sports giant working alongside Khan to produce signature gloves, kit and boots. Unaffected, mild-mannered and unfailingly pleasant, in conversation the kid turns out to be a winner. Just like in the ring. It’s a confidence thing, but you have to know how to use it.
For a start, while Khan isn’t exactly in a panic about the assignment against Komjathi, 11 years his senior, he speaks very respectfully of his opponent’s capabilities. The over-riding feeling, however, is that as long as he takes care of business and maintains his concentration, this is just another stepping stone.
“He’s not a bad lad. He’s a tough Hungarian lad, with a good record,” he says. “He boxed for a European title, boxed a few world champions. He’s lost two fights in 35, so for sure he’s going to be tough. As a professional fighter, he’ll be the best boxer I’ve faced yet – but I think I’ve fought tougher lads before, in the amateurs.”
A keen student of boxing psychology, Khan has been scrutinising videos of the Hungarian for weeks now. The way he shapes up. The relentless forward movement. How the jab flashes out. The little tics that suggest a right is about to follow. Khan is evangelical about the importance of video preparation: it’s a way of getting inside the head of your opponent.
“You have to be,” he maintains. “I always spend as much time as possible checking out the videos, and not just that, I like to find out as much as I can about their backgrounds and who they are. I always do that, so then you know what to expect, so you’re not going to be taken by surprise. That’s what I’ve been doing, and will be for the next two weeks. Going through it, working out what he does, getting sparring partners who can fight like this lad.”
Laszlo’s style – characterised by those who’ve seen him as “open, aggressive, forward, but clever” – is one Khan does not envisage posing any insuperable problems. “He’s a pressure fighter and I think that’ll suit me,” he says. “He’s going to be in my face, so he’ll be easier to hit. I won’t have to go looking for him. He’ll be looking for me, so if all goes to plan, I’ll be able to come forward and catch him with my good shots and it shouldn’t last too long.”
The legendary fight trainer Cus d’Amato, mentor to Floyd Patterson and Mike Tyson among others, held as an article of faith that fear is a boxer’s best friend, security his deadliest enemy. Khan demurs, insisting that he is as yet unacquainted with the concept of fear inside the ring. But there is something else that’s essential.
“It’s not fear,” he qualifies. “Not fear. You feel more tension and nervousness. You’re excited and you’re on a bit of an adrenalin rush. I’ve never been terrified but I get nerves, big-time, before every fight. If you didn’t have that, you’d lose...” He’s on a roll now... “It’s right I feel that way. Being nervous makes you snappy, and makes your reactions quicker. It keeps you on your toes. Everything happens so fast in the ring that you need your reactions to be sharp, so you’re at your most alert. You need to be aware of everything around you, and then you snap in quicker. That’s what I’m like – although it could be different for other fighters.”
Khan has, he says, been genuinely surprised at how easy his pro fights thus far have turned out to be. He had expected to feel the heat. To take a few big punches. To feel the gorge rising. To know: I’m in a fight here. “I’ve always gone in confident,” he says, “but prepared for the worst. But my reactions have been so quick. I know, going into the ring, that these people are going to hit hard, and every time they’ve come forward and moved to hit me, I’ve beat them to it and knocked ‘em out. I have been very surprised about that, yeah. That’s when the nerves have kicked in, and then after the fight they ease off and you get back to normal again.”
Khan’s ethnic background has led to his swift adoption as a role model and cultural icon among British Asians. It’s about pride. There’s no sign of Amir Khan lying down or taking a beating. You wanna have a go? Step right up. It would be hard to imagine a better symbol for the assertion of Asian rights at a time when the pressure on Muslims in general in Britain is intense.
His own idols are cricketer Imran Khan and living boxing legend Muhammad Ali. He hails Ali as an incomparable fighter – and more besides. “The greatest of all time, man,” he says. “Such a clever fighter. But he was more than just a fighter, he was a warrior for his people, a great showman, a huge personality, and a great ambassador for boxing. He was bigger than the sport. He was fighting for more than just himself. He knew he was representing a whole group of people who had suffered injustice. I like to think I can do some of what he was doing – but there’s only one Ali.”
And Amir knows it. “If I can be half as good as he was outside the ring, I’ll be happy with that,” he says.
The parallels between Ali’s situation and his own have inevitably crossed Khan’s mind. Asked whether he feels he’s fighting in a wider sense for British Asians, Khan’s answer is supremely well-judged – and there is no sense that this is just PR spin. He’s got a good heart. Intelligence. Openness.
“Yeah, I do feel that,” he says, “but also I’m fighting for everyone. I feel like the whole country is behind me. I’m proud when I see the flag, and I wouldn’t want to be, like, just seen as an Asian boxer. My fights are for everyone to enjoy.”
He’s throwing out the verbal jabs, measuring them effectively. He knows where this rally is going.
“I want to see all these cultures come together and watch me fight,” he says. “I’ve fought white English lads and felt I still got the support of the English crowds – that’s brilliant and that’s how it should be. Boxing is no place for racist people. I want to bring all religions and all cultures together, and see an end to all this war.”
Of late, much of Khan’s time has been concentrated on doing something to assist in dealing with the emergency afflicting his ancestral home of Pakistan. On October 8th 2005, an earthquake measuring 7.6 on the Richter scale struck Southern Asia, its epicentre in Kashmir. The death toll to date stands at 73,000. More than three million survivors were either rendered homeless or denied safe drinking water. It is an appalling situation that has hardly registered with people in the west. And it could get worse: Oxfam fear an outbreak of cholera. In response, Khan has allied himself with the charity’s fundraising efforts.
“I wanted to put it back in people’s eye again,” he says. “It’s one of these things that makes the news for a few days and then people forget about it. That’s what I went there for. I went with Oxfam, the fund-raising went really well and we raised a lot of money, got them a lot of food and clean water and sanitation, and helped a lot of people.”
Imention a recent interview with Danny Williams, in which the Brixton brawler claimed to have periodic difficulty reconciling his profession as a fighter with his Islamic faith. Evidently it’s not an issue which has cost Khan long nights of sleeplessness. On the contrary.
“I like to keep my religion private,” he admits. “I am still very religious, I still follow and keep up with my praying. That keeps me calm and keeps me focused, and it’s a big part of who I am. But it doesn’t contrast with my sport. I don’t think there’s any problem about that.”
Khan is, of course, not the first British Asian boxer to achieve household prominence. The waspish, verbose ‘Prince’ Naseem Hamed – just given a 15 month sentence for a dangerous driving offence, incidentally – paved the way for Khan’s emergence approximately a decade earlier. Naseem’s career was a success – but Khan is infinitely more likely to capture the hearts of a generation. While Naseem always projected an air of strident arrogance, Khan is accessible, affable and unassuming, and as yet, utterly unspoiled by the riches that have flown his way and the public scrutiny that stalks successful sports stars as much as it does rock’n’rollers. To stay in touch with his roots, Amir endeavours to maintain quality time with his mates.
“I still spend as much time chilling out with them as I can,” he says disarmingly. “You have to be like that. Boxing’s a very tough sport and you can never let it get to your head. Everything’s dead normal, man, I’ll never let myself get big-headed. They wouldn’t let me (laughs).”
A recurring theme in boxing biographies is the perennial temptation to stay on after one’s powers have waned – a path most recently trodden by Mike Tyson, to decidedly unedifying effect, in full view of a public he once mesmerised. You might have guessed: Khan intends to follow Naseem’s path and to retire early. He’s got other fish to fry. “I’ll be out of the sport by the time I’m 26 or 27,” he says. “I’ll want to do something else.”
Has he spoken to Naseem?
“Yeah, I always followed his career and he’s had a couple of things to say – I’ve had a lot of boxers ring me and give me good advice. Lennox Lewis. Mike Tyson. Tyson’s a really nice guy and very smart, very knowledgeable on boxing.”
What was Tyson’s advice?
“Just a few technical things in boxing, and to watch out and keep good people around me. And to get out if I ever stop enjoying it.”
Amir appears to take a shine to my Irishness, and waxes animated about the prospect of visiting the King’s Hall.
“Belfast should be great, man,” he enthuses. “Ireland’s a massive boxing country, ever since Barry McGuigan, then all the other guys who came later. My brothers tell me the tickets sold out within a few hours. The King’s Hall is a massive place to stage the fight. It’s been the scene of so many world title fights, every boxer knows about it.”
There’s nothing complicated or superstitious about his routine be on the day of a fight. The key is to keep things steady.
“Just chill out. Have a good breakfast. Watch a video of my opponent. And try to relax as much as possible. Eat some good food.”
The only time Khan ever hit the canvas, to date, was against Craig Watson at the ABA championships. Even after repeated viewings, there were differing opinions as to whether Khan had slipped or been knocked down. He’s happy to clear the matter up.
“He caught me with a good shot, knocked me down,” he recalls. “The shot caught me cold. But I got back up and shook it off. It’s good that it happened, so I know what to expect, cause it’s bound to happen at some stage. You can never relax or feel at ease. You need total awareness and concentration. It happened because I must have lost focus for maybe a couple of milliseconds and got caught. I’ll know not to do it again.”
As time expires, Khan expounds on the subject of his massive endorsement deal with Reebok’s RbK campaign. “I think it’s brilliant being a part of the Reebok campaign, being amongst the likes of 50 Cent, Ryan Giggs, Mike Skinner, and all the American top stars, Iversen and them. It’s good for me and good for boxing. Reebok’s good for the image and I’m sure it’ll build up my profile. I’ll be the face of the RbK boxing equipment, I’ll be wearing the gloves and the boots, they’ll expand the range – and hopefully in a couple of years’ time we’ll see everyone wearing RbK.”
Seconds before the bell: what’s the current extent of Amir’s ambition?
“My first target was winning an Olympic medal, and I did that. My goal now is to become world champion, and I expect to do that.”
What timescale has he set?
“I’d give it about another year. I should be a world champion by then.”
With that, Amir Khan, future world lightweight champion, grins mischievously and shakes me by the paw. Ladies and gentlemen, watch him go.