British Scene: Murray Seeks a Big Fight After Dealing With Kudriavtsev

Andrew Harrison has the ringside report from Saturday night's European Lightweight title clash between John Murray and Andrei Kudriavtsev.  For more from Andrew, make sure to check out his blog, Safe Side of the Ropes.

It’s Saturday evening and a popular local lad auditions for the big time as family members and well wishers look on, pensively chewing their fingernails. A succession of tuneless renditions have left the audience amused and irritated in equal measure whilst a pantomime villain on the judging panel puts the wind up them, dragging attention away from the headline acts. The only thing missing is a couch, a takeaway and Simon Cowell’s ubiquitous and woeful singing contest.

Instead I’m on a plastic seat in a Wigan leisure centre, here to witness the British and European lightweight champ John Murray do what he does best. In a demanding, arduous and often absorbing contest, Manchester’s new pressure fighting idol found a way to outlast and overwhelm the game Ukrainian Andrei Kudriavtsev before closing the show in the bout’s final third.

With his raucous "Barmy Army" in full cheerleading effect, singing, cheering and even drumming their appreciation, Murray emerged through Sky Sports' tinsel curtain to his customised version of Johnny B Goode. The experienced Kudriavtsev waited passively for him in his corner throughout, his head stooped like a man standing in line at a supermarket checkout reading the ingredients from the back of a packet. The contrast between the pair was marked as they awaited the bell. Kudriavtsev remained motionless, looking to preserve energy whilst Murray pawed at the dirt, steaming himself up into a lather.

Murray’s trainer Joe Gallagher had commented in the build up that the pair would be confronted with a mirror image once the bell rang, a revelation which led to a tentative opening minute as they fenced for control of centre ring. Looking the bigger man physically, Kudriavtsev snapped out an authoritative jab to assume the role of aggressor, forcing Murray into a hitherto unutilised reverse gear.

Showing an ability to fight off the back foot, Murray began cranking out streams of punches which bounced off Kudriavtsev’s forehead, shots which had the visitor’s face reddening as he returned to his corner. It was a pattern that continued through rounds two and three. Kudriavtsev would force the action, landing jolting jabs backed up with spiteful body shots yet it was Murray’s volume and greater accuracy carrying the rounds.

Round four played out across two square foot of canvas. After taking turns to steady each other with big right hands the pair butted together in centre ring and proceeded to toil, grapple and thump it out in close. The fluency of Murray’s work was grabbing him the points; however, Kudriavtsev remained full of vim, vigour and defiant resolve.

The local man got off with his patented right uppercut in the fifth but it wasn’t enough to make Kudriavtsev give ground and they were soon soldered together at the brow once again, grafting away at the coal face. As they rolled into the next session Kudriavtsev refused to grant Murray any forward momentum, a strategy which was working for him to a degree yet Murray kept the leather flying regardless.

In what must surely be a dispiriting sight for opponents, Murray continued to rise eagerly from his stool as keen to get on with things as a child approaching a bouncy castle. Kudriatsev had managed to stay with the high tempo up to this stage, though, and one felt that with neither showing any give, the judge’s cards would ultimately be brought into play.

With the crowd singing his name, Murray opened his throttle at the beginning of round eight and whilst Kudriavtsev remained resolute he had begun to blow hard and bite down on his gumshield when returning fire. Wilting quite noticeably and with his team wasting time in the corner at the start of the ninth in order to buy the veteran precious seconds, Murray sensed blood.

Now finally on the front foot, Murray unleashed his full repertoire. Under fire against the ropes Kudriavtsev’s knees dipped and as Murray ploughed into him referee Manuel Palomo called time on his challenge. Although the stoppage appeared premature, Kudriavtsev had given enough in this his 8th defeat in 42. It had been a hard-fought, gritty old slog, a fight closer in reality than the scorecards would suggest.

As Murray leapt from corner to corner, holding his title belts aloft in jubilation, audience attention switched to Amir Khan who was working just above them on a raised television gantry. After studiously ignoring some of their more salty jibes, Khan leapt up from his studio chair and responded to a chorus of "Johnny’s gonna get ya" with some impromptu sign language.

Pointing down to the ring he drew a finger across his throat before holding up his outstretched hand. Murray in five seemed to be his succinct summation.

Although he didn’t show us anything new, Murray in recording his thirtieth straight win (18 quick) surely now deserves a major date. At the age of twenty five he’s at his peak and with the hard wearing style he employs, Manchester’s new fighting hero faces a tough night every night against this calibre of opponent and beyond. Whether it be Victor Ortiz, Humberto Soto, Michael Katsidis or the great Juan Manuel Marquez himself, a marquee name is long overdue. If only it could go to the public vote.

Chief support came from younger brother Joe, a former room mate of Khan and a useful looking prospect in his own right, fighting here a couple of pounds above the featherweight limit. His opponent, a gutsy but clueless Hungarian by the name of Richard Szebeledi somehow managed to make it into round two before being despatched face first onto the mat.

Fighting in flashy sequinned shorts and drawing as many cheers from the crowd as his brother would afterwards, Joe had the coolest head in the house. As Szebeledi flailed away aimlessly, Murray battered him with precise uppercuts throughout the opener and a smart right hand finished proceedings at 2:05 of the second round to move "Genius" Joe along to 8-0 (4).

Undercard performance of the night came from Kid Galahad (originally Abdul Barry Awad), the latest find to emerge from the reknowned Ingle family gym in Sheffield. After finishing his introductions the ring announcer quipped to an associate, "Now that’s a name". And it might be one to remember such was Galahad’s proficiency in outclassing the determined Ian Bailey.

In only his fourth contest (all wins, one quick) the switch hitting Galahad ran us through the full Wincobank gamut. He span behind Bailey, tied him in knots, lured him into tight corners before either slipping off along the ropes or nailing him with uppercuts and he used footwork which wouldn’t have looked out of place at a roller disco.

Bailey deserves credit for sticking with it even after he began taking flush shots in the third. Galahad would tempt Bailey toward him and at the last second take a nifty half a step back before belting him with hard punches. He even wound up a few right hands in the fourth and get this, landed a Pernell Whitaker style punch from behind his back in a clinch (for which he received a telling off from referee Michael Alexander).

Galahad took a popular 60-55 points verdict and looks a real talent.

Heavyweight Albert Sosnowski eased himself back into winning ways, beating the tar out of the hapless Paul Butlin in a mere 132 seconds of what was a rather pointless endeavour for all concerned. "The Dragon", who brought a pocket of Polish supporters along with him, advances to 46-3-1 (28).

Droylsden light middleweight Prince Arron (real name Arron Jones) looked impressive in seeing off rugged Hungarian Mihaly Kotai, flattening him in the sixth and final round with a stunning right uppercut and a follow up right which put him over. Arron, looking fit and composed moves to 20-3-1 (3).

Middlesborough’s Paul Truscott boxed to a smart six round decision over another tough Hungarian import in Zsolt Nagy. Looking to rebuild after a brace of defeats to tough Scot John Simpson, Truscott made good use of his jab and left hook to the body to record his fifteenth victory in seventeen.

Brampton bantamweight Josh Wale appeared fortunate to escape with an eleventh career win (against three defeats) over French learner Yoan Boyeaux, at least on my card. After taking the first two rounds, Wale appeared impossible to miss and despite Boyeaux’s novice like technique, the visitor managed to crash home a succession of humdingers over the final four sessions.

Wale picked up a cut over his left eye in the fifth and was dropped seconds before the bell in a final round he was winning. Referee Michael Alexander returned a 58-56 card for Wale, a score which appeared way off the mark to my eyes, although, as I was the only member of press row who looked as outraged as Boyeaux, perhaps it was just me (I had it by the same score the other way).

Light middleweight Phill Fury closed the evening out with a perfunctory second round stoppage over Birmingham’s Terry Adams to move to 7-0 (2).