You moved to Canada from East London when you were a lad of 12. Did you
used to be an authentic cock-er-nee?
Oh yeah, definitely - that's why I got into fights when I first went out
to
Canada. That's how I got into boxing. I used to get into fights in
England
as well - I was expelled from school when I was six for hitting a boy,
then
punching out a window - but it was all more serious in Canada. My accent
really annoyed people, and I used all this slang, but when people told
me
to shut up I'd say, "It's not closing time yet." That's what we used to
say
in London. It led to a lot of fights.
You've been royally insulted over the years - Riddick Bowe once said to
you, "I've got sisters who could whip you!" and "I like your ponytail,
Lennox, you big faggot!" Did that rile you?
Not really, no. For me, the main problem there was that he felt it
necessary to insult me in front of the cameras. I simply said to him:
"You
have a problem with me, let's get in the ring." But of course, he
wouldn't.
He was all mouth. He was put up to it by his manager, Rock Newman.
Where's
Rock Newman now, when Riddick's down on his luck? He left him like a
dog.
So how do you feel when your manager, 5ft3in Frank Maloney, gets called
a
"mental midget" and a "pugilistic pygmy" by Don King?
I just think, how can you insult a man when you don't know him? I
realised
some time ago that Don King is all rhetoric, and some people love him
for
that. I find him interesting.
Do you fear no man?
My only fear is losing - no one likes to lose. A lot of people you come
up
against hide their fear, and you only discover it when you test their
heart, when it really is a do-or-die situation. When you're right in
there
at the top level, you kind of become at peace with yourself, because you
realise that every man is just a man like yourself.
You're not much of a one for showmanship - the grand entrance on a
forklift
truck, walking around town with a lion on a lead. Have you never been
tempted to up your profile by going down that road?
No. I do look at myself from a distance sometimes, I speak of myself as
a
third party. I have certain expectations about what Lennox does do and
what
he doesn't do, and as far as eccentricity is concerned, I'm not that way
inclined. If I'd been like that as a youngster it would be easy, but I
never have been. If you look at Tyson, for example, he's always been a
thug, and the American public loves to buy into that whole bad boy
image,
which it easier for him. But it would be hard for me to become Lennox
the
Magnificent and walk round like Chris Eubanks.
Didn't you do some training with Tyson when you were both in your teens?
Yeah, I did. It was very competitive, because you had this guy across
the
ring who was basically trying to knock you out, and I had to do a
Muhammad
Ali impression to avoid him. But you know, I don't have much respect for
Tyson. He's a thug. Hopefully some day I'll fight him and punch him out.
You're a big fellow, obviously. What do you do to improve your reaction
speed?
When I was much younger, I used to punch at raindrops as they fell off
the
branch of a tree. Or if another boxer was skipping, I would punch him
and
try and get my hand out of there before the rope came back round again.
I
don't do press-ups with a clap anymore. They're more of a karate
exercise.
You've attended an exhibition bout in a prison in the USA. Did it all
turn
a bit ugly?
No, it was okay. I wasn't actually boxing, I was just watching. Some of
the
inmates were dressed as women, like cheerleaders. You find all sorts of
people in prison.
Finally, what's it like to be knocked out?
When you wake up, you're not really aware. Not that I've ever been
knocked
out.
Interview by Andy Darling
