"I don’t even want to be here" – ‘Showtime’ is over for Sunny Edwards

Heartbreaking admission encapsulates the devastating realisation of a fighter reaching the end of the road

On paper, it was supposed to be an evenly fought contest, with former world champion and widely regarded Flyweight number one Sunny Edwards (21-1-0 4KO) squaring off with long term amateur sparring partner and Olympic gold medallist Galal Yafai (8-0-0 6KO) for the Interim WBC world title.

If anyone was to be favoured, it was the more proven boxer, Sunny Edwards, who would then have been expected to go on and surmount a charge at the other 112lb champions. What transpired on Saturday night, however, November 30th, at The Resorts World Arena in Birmingham, nobody could have predicted.

From the sound of the first bell, the 31-year-old Galal Yafai was relentless, implementing superb ring generalship and footwork, not giving ‘Showtime’ Sunny a second to breathe. His work rate was also unrelenting, with Edwards being outworked and teed off on at will, being so uncharacteristically easy to hit and holding his feet on the ropes, the antithesis of his style that had seen him rack up four IBF world title defences.

The first two rounds were so one-sided that, after just six minutes of action, the cameras picked up a shocking admission from the Sheffield residing switch-hitter, when he told his trainer: ‘I don’t even want to be here.’

Some corners of the boxing world have placed critique at the door of newly appointed trainer Chris Williams for not pulling him there and then, but, for me, his rousing speech was warranted. Had this admission occurred later in the fight, I would agree he should have been pulled; however, the criticism and regret Edwards would have to live with amongst the sometimes cruel boxing fraternity, for waiving the white flag after just two rounds, would have been a devastating way for his fantastic career to end. In sucking it up and taking his beating for another four rounds, he can at least look back and say he demonstrated one last showing of immense courage.

Whilst the timing of the admission, at first, seemed bemusing, the reality is this wasn’t a moment of realisation after just six minutes with Galal Yafai. It was a gradual process over the past 12 months. In his post-fight press conference Edwards confessed to being in tears after his preceding victory over tough Mexican Adrian Curiel. Perhaps on some level then, he knew.

What felt so strange to witness was the fact that the words actually left his mouth, but the reality is he was merely expressing an internal monologue that will echo in the mind of many a great fighter during those 60 seconds of brief respite.

How many times have we seen a fighter go back to their corner, sink to their stool, bow their head, temporarily defeated, with their trainer wrapping their battered and bruised skull in the white towel, whispering words of encouragement in their ear, only for them to rise once more and face their demons once again, three minutes at a time.

In Sunny Edwards case, the animated words from Chris Williams did seem to spur him on, however more often than not these speeches are likely drowned out by the fighters' own inner conscience, with the three-minute physical battle being followed by a 60 second mental struggle, equally as threatening. ‘Do I have it anymore?’ ‘My legs are gone.’ ‘This fights running away from me.’ ‘I can’t keep him off me.’ ‘I’m running on empty.’

Another example that springs to mind is Anthony Joshua against Andy Ruiz in their first epic encounter, with panic creeping in and, exacerbated by his fatigue, asking trainer Rob McKracken, ‘Why am I feeling like this?’ What we saw on Saturday night was probably the final result of this long line of questioning that Edwards would have been asking himself all throughout camp. After two punishing and one-sided rounds against a foe previously believed to be his technical equal, reality set in. ‘I don’t even want to be here.’

Thankfully for Edwards, he seems to have a career outside of fighting himself already set up for him, being a fantastic pundit and building out a solid stable of fighters under his managerial guidance.

Unfortunately, very few fighters have this luxury, which is perhaps why it is so rare that we hear the words actually spoken into existence. Most top-level fighters, be it British, European or World level, will have had a moment similar to Edwards, sat on their stool, bracing themselves to go back out to war, when they will have known. ‘I don’t have it anymore.’ We just never heard the words.  

As with Edwards, those doubts will have come in over a long period of time. Hours of roadwork with nothing but your own thoughts drowning out the distraction of their chosen playlist. Another trip to the physio after the latest crippling, camp inhibiting injury. A sobering look in the mirror after yet another disastrous sparring session. Even if on some level they know then, a glimmer of hope may remain. Maybe on fight night, I will pull it out the bag as I always do. But fight night is when you cannot escape the truth any longer.

The horrible reality of the sport we love so much. The way that most careers come to an end, but for the very few who manage to retire on top. Even though many fights won’t end in that moment, that’s when the decision is made.

Whether said out loud or whispered to themselves. ‘I don’t even want to be here.’ My time as a fighter is done.