by The gruesome battle marks covered the face of Regis Prograis, the fallen champion, as he appeared for the first time for the inquest in the basement of the Chase Center in San Francisco. An hour earlier, soon after the final bell that confirmed the ordeal was over and he suffered defeat to the great Devin Haney to become the WBC junior welterweight world champion, Prograis spoke with raw honesty in the ring.
“That’s really good, it’s better than I thought it was,” Prograis said of Haney, who knocked him down in the third round and re-injured him several times during a long, painful bout. “I couldn’t find him. I thought he was a soft puncher, but he has power. I was down and I was like: ‘What the fuck happened?’”
At the post-fight press conference his face was bruised, cut and swollen and red blotches were smeared across his forehead, and under his left eye, like lipstick applied in a drunken daze. But his grace was evident in praising Haney, who won every round on all three scorecards and produced a masterclass that propels him toward the highest ranks of the pound-for-pound stakes. Haney, the 25-year-old undisputed former world lightweight champion, looked so much bigger, stronger, faster and younger than Prograis in his first fight at junior welterweight. Reinvigorated by not having to starve himself to make the lightweight limit of 135 pounds, Haney produced the best performance of his career to date.
Prograis told him the same thing right after his massive sellout loss: “I said, ‘Brother, you’re better than I thought you were.'” All his scary words before the fight. , which made a joke. Haney’s powerlessness and fragile chin were replaced by this new and honest respect. “I was trying and trying and trying but I just couldn’t find him,” Prograis said, praising Haney for his “quick and sneaky power” and great footwork.
“I trained my ass and it wasn’t good enough,” admitted Prograis. The 34-year-old cut a moving figure, rather than hiding in grief, he had come before us. An American reporter spoke solemnly but compassionately urging Prograis to “keep your head up, walk tall. You are still a champion of the people and I would not surrender if I were you.”
The program faded as the old fire rekindled. “Thank you for the words, but I’m definitely not giving up. Like I said, three-time world champion, that’s my goal right now. I told all my people in the dressing room, and they were crying: ‘Bro, pick your head up. It’s a fight. You are going to win or lose. I’m not going to lie. For this fight I trained my ass for four months, and it wasn’t good enough. Sometimes that will happen in life.”
Related: Devin Haney becomes a two-weight champion when hometown Regis Prograis retires
Eddie Hearn, his promoter who seemed to favor Haney all through a loud and sometimes bitter meeting, ended the Prograis press conference by saying, “Well done, Diarmada.” Hearn quickly realized his slip of the tongue and corrected himself, somewhat sheepishly, by turning to the deposit branch and saying his real name: “Regis.”
Clare looked at him, shook his head with a grim smile, and sighed: “God, Eddie.”
While others waited for Haney’s royal arrival, I followed Prograis out of the interview room and down the corridor towards the cold night outside where the cars were waiting to take him and his team back to their -hotel. He walked ahead of his trainers, friends and family. He would have been alone if his seven-year-old daughter, Khalessi, was in his left hand and he failed to do any damage to Haney.
Program turned when I called his name. He smiled and walked over to extend his right hand. That didn’t hurt Haney but that didn’t matter anymore. I told him how much I admired the way he carried himself through the heartbreak. As Prograis expressed his gratitude as we held hands I thought again of what you really learned about the character of the man who is suffering.
Five minutes later, in the same room that Progais had just left, the new king of boxing entered with his entourage. Wearing designer sunglasses and white gloves, Haney had put the diamond studs back in his earlobes and slipped on the watch which is said to be worth $700,000. He and his father, Bill, who trains him, made their way to the top table. They were joined by a beaming Hearn who appears intent on extending their one-fight promotional alliance that had bought boxing back to San Francisco, where Haney was born and raised the first seven years of his life, for the first time in over twenty years. .
Unlike his dominant opponent, Haney’s face was unmarked as he spoke with a serene mixture of nonchalance and conviction. It was a testament to that reputation that Haney laughed when told that Prograis had set an unwanted record by breaking the CompuBox record for the fewest punches landed in a 12-round world championship match. Prograis had only 39 punches, compared to the 139 blows that had crushed his face, but Haney shrugged. He said he felt that Prograis had landed even less and that not a single punch had troubled him. Haney likened it to a sparring session while also reminding us that Prograis, until Saturday night, was considered the toughest and most talented world champion at 140 pounds.
“I did everything I said I was going to do,” Haney crooned. “I went in there and disabled him. We knew he was going in with a big left hand but we took advantage of his habit of leaning in … and then I hit him with big shots.”
Haney smiled, because he was tired of being chastised as a light hitter that no one pitched for four years. “I knew I was losing him,” he said quickly before explaining that the heavy lifting he had to do for so long in the lighter division was robbing him of all his power. . Haney spoke of his regular shock that his hard-nosed authority in the gym disappeared as soon as he stepped through the ropes for a lightweight competition.
“I was killing myself to make 135,” Haney said. “I would get into a fight and get knocked out. I wouldn’t be my best self. Now I can go in there and be the real Devin Haney.”
He emphasized his belief that he could beat every other fighter in the junior welterweight division as well as all those who campaign at the welterweight limit of 147 pounds. “Devin is amazing,” his father said. “He’s really special and it showed tonight.”
Haney Sr. went so far as to suggest that his son would soon be ready to fight Terence Crawford, the exceptional and vicious No. 1 pound-for-pound fighter on the planet for most boxing pundits and fans. Crawford, who dismantled Errol Spence in the performance of the year at welterweight in July, will move up to 154 pounds next year – when he and Spence meet in a rematch. Haney Sr. hinted that he would like Crawford to return to welterweight after that bout, as this is the division where he feels his son will be at his best. But, in the meantime, there are plenty of attractive and lucrative bouts at junior welterweight.
Ryan Garcia was the most mentioned name after Prograis was launched. Hearing that Garcia called him out on social media, Haney laughed again and said: “It’s good to hear that he finally wants to fight.”
Haney was more dismissive of Gervonta ‘Tank’ Davis and suggested that a bout against the arsenic fighter from Baltimore, who beat Garcia in April, was unlikely at the moment. He blamed Davis for always talking about the prospect of their meeting in the ring and claimed that Garcia was a much more obvious opponent.
His father, an unrelenting trash talker, said: “Stop letting Tank and his team piss on your head and tell you it’s raining with these petty fights.”
But Haney is so good and so versatile that he can be bracketed with elite fighters at different weights, from Davis to Crawford, the most vivid sign of his new star appeal.
Haney was lucky to win his last fight, a very close points decision against the proven Vasiliy Lomachenko in May, but that bout was his last at lightweight. He looks transformed now and the way he hurt, fell and got the most out of a boxer as tough and strong as Prograis highlighted the opportunities that now await him in fights where he won’t be bogged down by cuts rare weights.
“It made a huge difference and you can see that in my performance,” Haney said. “I feel much stronger and, in this camp, I was able to recover and rest more. I felt great. This means everything. Since I was a young kid, it was my dream to come back to the Bay Area and put on a big event. What better time than now with 16,000 people coming out to support me?”
Haney also quickly said how much he wanted to box in Saudi Arabia, where the money is so obscene and the lack of human rights still awaits him. His diamonds flashed and his gold teeth gleamed as he reflected a little further on how a masterful performance had elevated his often-frustrated reputation – despite already being the undisputed world champion with an unblemished record of 30 -0. But when Prograis took his title with such brutal efficiency, doubters turned into believers within 12 amazing rounds.
“I want the biggest fights that make the most money,” Haney said as he looked ahead to his bright future, apparently hoping that one night he would succeed in boxing. too – just like he did for Prograis who lost for the second time in 31 fights.
As all the talk of money tricks continued it was hard not to think of his opponent traveling back through the dark streets. But at least Regis Prograis was not alone. His family and team were still around him as well as the brief knowledge that he looked more like himself than ever, accepting a devastating loss with such class and nostalgia.
