For the sake of brevity, the 10-year professional career of James DeGale can be defined by just three fights which took place in the month of May. One of them was in 2011, the other in 2014, and the best, from DeGale’s point of view, happened in 2015 – 10 years, in fact, to the day.
The first of these three fights, in 2011, was the British and Commonwealth title clash with George Groves, his former gym mate at Dale Youth Amateur Boxing Club. This was a fight many expected to one day materialise, just not as soon as it did. DeGale, at the time, had only 10 pro fights to his name, while Groves was 12-0. Not only that, given the history between the two, there was more at stake than there ordinarily would be in a typical fight between prospects. This was evident when they appeared on Sky Sports’ Ringside show to sell the fight and perhaps the only thing more evident that day was the pair’s immaturity.
“I have improved heaps and bounds,” a confused DeGale said at one stage, before interrupting Groves to say, “Let me say something,” only to immediately pause. “Erm. I’ve forgotten what I was going to say.”
Later on, when Groves tried speaking in riddles, DeGale said, “Are you going to stand off and box me? You can’t do that, ugly kid. There’s no way he can stand off and box me.” That, to Groves, was no more than an indication of how desperate Degale was to have him fight his fight. To which DeGale said, “I want a great fight for the fans,” and Groves, as quick as his jab, said, “You don’t have any fans, James. People come to watch you get beat.”
Mean-spirited though it was, and although at times embarrassingly juvenile, there was a lot of truth to what DeGale and Groves revealed on that show. Knowing each other so well, they both had an awareness of the other’s sensitive spots and exploited this, with DeGale calling Groves “chinny” and Groves in turn reminding DeGale how he had alienated fans and struggled for popularity since winning Olympic gold in 2008. At one point, Groves even compared DeGale to Audley Harrison, saying, “A deluded champion, that’s what you’ve got here,” and the pain of hearing this was apparent on DeGale’s face. It was one thing to be unpopular, you see, but the thought of being unpopular and falling short of his goal – that is, to win a world title as a pro – was inconceivable for Degale in 2011.
To cope, he called it jealousy. He suggested that Groves, who beat Degale as an amateur, was forever envious of the fact that he, DeGale, was the one who ultimately went on to reach the top of the amateur game and feel gold around his neck. Groves won the battle; he won the war. Or something like that.
Only it was never over, the war. Instead, between these two super-middleweights it was really just beginning. Moreover, their respective careers were destined to forever run in parallel and their achievements would always be viewed in the context of their rivalry. No sooner would one of them achieve something the other hadn’t, for example, than the other would then go one better, or achieve something different to reclaim bragging rights.
As for what happened on May 21, 2011, all that needs to be said is that Groves got it right and DeGale got it wrong. We know now that despite everything DeGale told Groves he couldn’t do, including outbox him, Groves proved he could on the night. He also proved that he was correct in saying that he was the more popular of the two, evidence of which was the sound of 15,000 fans erupting once Groves received his majority decision after 12 rounds.
If it wasn’t enough to just be outboxed by a rival he said could not outbox him, DeGale now had to come to terms with being less popular than someone he hated, despite all he had achieved for his country at the Olympic Games. The loss itself would have been upsetting enough, but somehow the reaction to it, the widespread celebration of it, was, for DeGale, considerably worse.
Still, DeGale, 25 at the time, brushed himself down and carried on. With no option but to accept it, he grudgingly gave Groves his spot in the queue, watched him fight for a world title before he did, and then, in 2014, boxed at Wembley Stadium as 80,000 fans started taking their seats to watch Groves fight Carl Froch in a huge rematch. Appearing only on the undercard that night, DeGale had no greater reminder of where he stood in the food chain and how he and Groves had taken separate paths since their 2011 encounter. Now DeGale was doing his work – good work, mind you – in the shadow of his old rival and was hoping that by impressively beating Brandon Gonzales he would earn a shot at the winner of Froch vs. Groves in the future. Groves, meanwhile, would see DeGale and Gonzales appear on the television monitor in his changing room while warming up and ask for it to be turned off. “I don’t need to be watching that,” he said as he shadowboxed.
After all, May 31, 2014 was meant to be Groves’ big night, not DeGale’s. By now Groves was convinced he would beat Froch at the second time of asking, he was certain he was going to become a world champion, and he would even that night travel to the ring on a double-decker bus surrounded by dancing girls and fire. He had, in other words, arrived on the biggest stage of all and rose, in every sense, to the occasion.
Of course, the bigger the stage, the bigger the fall, and Groves, like DeGale in 2011, learned this the hard way when he was knocked out by a Froch right hand in round eight. Now it was Groves, not DeGale, leaving a large venue in London having to pick up the pieces and wonder why so many people had celebrated his demise and felt he had got his comeuppance. Now it was Groves who was having to question his own potential and attitude just when he thought he had cracked it and had every answer.
Twelve months later, DeGale found himself in Boston, Massachusetts preparing to fight Andre Dirrell for the vacant IBF super-middleweight title, the very belt Groves had twice failed to take from Froch. For DeGale, who always maintained he had beaten Groves in 2011, this was poetic justice; a chance to again one-up him. In much the same way that Groves besting him as an amateur had been the catalyst for him to go and win Olympic gold, DeGale was now adamant that losing against Groves as a pro would result in him becoming the first of them to win a world title.
He was right, too. As before, the path was not direct, but DeGale got there in the end, dropping the dangerous Dirrell twice in round two before beating him on points over 12 rounds. It was, without doubt, the finest performance of DeGale’s 10-year pro career and he would argue, too, that Dirrell was a better opponent and tougher test than Fedor Chudinov, the man Groves beat in 2017 – again in May – to replicate DeGale’s success and win his one and only world title (a WBA super-middleweight belt).
Regardless, if there’s one thing James DeGale proved that night in Boston it’s that he was not delusional and that he was not Audley Harrison, whose Olympic success never led to success as a pro. In fact, by lifting the IBF title on this day 10 years ago, DeGale managed to make a bit of history. He became the first British Olympic gold medallist to win a professional world title and showed in the process that the two codes, amateur and pro, were not that different after all. Better yet, in doing so he silenced and separated himself from George Groves, for so long the voice of doubt in his head.