No sport is easy, but boxing is renowned for its stories of hardship and toil. Welsh middleweight operator Geraint Goodridge has not experienced the smoothest of rides as a professional pugilist, hitting more than the odd pothole whilst navigating his way along the road to sporting success. Despite the bumpy ride and the odd puncture delaying his journey, he sits on the cusp of a battle for the Welsh middleweight title and insists that he is more in love with the sport than ever before, explaining, “Boxing saved my life.”
That statement would suggest that boxing has been good to Goodridge, and it has in many respects. But he has also invested heavily into the sport, he has shown commitment and loyalty and almost treated boxing like a best friend, something he has turned to when in need, when he required a focus and a reason to motivate himself. Unfortunately, the unforgiving nature of the industry means that he has not always been rewarded for that commitment. In fact, it would be a reasonable enough assumption to believe that the man from Port Talbot would hold an antipathetic view of professional boxing after suffering contentious decisions, receiving pitiful fight purses, and enduring consequential personal problems during his career. Especially as he is still yet to yield any real tangible rewards from the sport.
He may not have made his millions from boxing, but he is able to joke about how people perceive his ‘professional boxer’ status, against the reality of his day to day life, laughing as he told me, “It’s the bollocks of social media, they see your profile picture of you in The York Hall and expect you to pull up in a Bugatti, but yesterday I drove up to my mothers on a push bike you know!”
It has been a journey that started in unorthodox fashion, with Geraint-After flirting with a commitment to boxing as a youngster-finding relative success in football and it was not until years later, when a friend needed help, that he stepped through the ropes to box competitively. “My mate’s little girl had bone marrow cancer and they were looking for a match to save her life, basically. It was a big story; the Wales rugby team were looking for bone marrow. My mate Owen Davies was in the local pub, he said, ‘Will anyone enter a white-collar boxing match?’. I had been in the gym years before and I thought, I could do with a bit of focus, I put my hand up and said I’ll do it. We made around six thousand pounds for the little girl, which we gave to the family. I boxed a guy from London, he had had a bit of experience. It was a hell of a scrap, I got out and I said I’ll never do it again, I’ve had my experience of senior boxing, I’ll never do it again. Two months later, I did another one for her.”
“The second time, I think I won the fight in the second round. There was a guy there called Neil Jenkins, he came down to the ring after the fight and said, ‘Do you want to come over to the gym?’ I said ‘Yeah, okay see you Monday.’ I started training there and within 8 fights, I was in the semi-finals of the Senior Welsh Open. Then a week later I was up training with the Welsh squad.”
During his time with the Welsh squad, Goodridge shared a room with compatriot Gavin Gwynne who subsequently turned professional and is now the current lightweight Commonwealth champion. With teammate Gwynne turning pro and the funding for team Wales’ preparation for the Commonwealth Games not really enough to live on full time, he made the decision to turn over to the professional ranks, also citing the fact that he had won 19 of 22 senior fights and was struggling to find willing amateur opponents. “Gavin (Gwynne) had turned pro, I watched Gavin’s professional debut, I spoke to Joe Jones who was training up with Jamie Arthur and said do you think Jamie would mind if I came up for sparring? I went up sparring, there was Ricky Rowlands a good Welsh amateur, a boy called Stuart Brewer, Joe Jones and a boy called Callum Busuttil. I went up and just felt at home, Jamie coached me in my last amateur fight, and I turned over.”
Unbeaten in his first 3 fights, the man nicknamed ‘Magic Man’ was exactly where he wanted to be in his career. “I had my first pro debut, and I was like, ‘Wow, is this really happening?’. It was a great story for my second fight, Jamie phoned me and said, ‘Will you fight a boy called Nathan Alton away from home?’ and I didn’t really understand the boxing politics of being an away fighter, everyone has their opinion, but I go away to win. I still speak to Nathan now and I really respect him. So, I was a Welsh boy going up to Frome in England and It was very hostile to say the least, I was called all sorts. I went and beat him, and my coach Jamie said, ‘That wasn’t supposed to happen you know’.
After a contentious draw in his third fight against Liam Hunt in a bout that Goodridge felt he won, he faced Anthony Fox on a card in Swansea. Ironically, the defeat-the first of his professional career-he suffered was not the most significant moment that evening. It was a conversation that he had after, that was the catalyst that changed the trajectory of his whole career. Elaborating on the frank conversation, Goodridge said, “After the fight, I said, ‘If you don’t mind me asking Ant, how much did you get for the fight?’ I had made about £300, he said, ‘I had £1250’. It was only a four-rounder, I was there thinking how have I only ended up with this money? I had to pay the show, I actually had to pay Anthony to travel down, so I basically paid him to come down and beat me in front of all my friends and family!”. Thankfully, the Welshman can retrospectively identify the humour as he recalled the lunacy of the situation, but he knew something had to change, he continued “But I’m not as dull as I look, so I thought eff this and I asked Anthony Fox if he felt I was tough enough to go on the road. He said, yes, you’re good enough, it was a good scrap, you are a tough boy. So, I said to Jamie Arthur I’ve lost my unbeaten run now, you know how it is, I thought balls to this I’m going to earn some money for my family.”
That was the moment that Goodridge adopted the ‘Have gumshield, will travel’ mentality and who could blame a man who wanted to pay the bills as a devoted father? He added, “If I’m going to put my life on the line, ‘cos that’s what we do, I want some money for it.”
What followed was a string of tough boxing lessons as even the ‘Magic Man’ could not conjure a win as he was fed to a number of quality prospects up and down Britain. Fights against the likes of Bradley Rea, Linus Udofia, Lee Cutler saw him rack up a succession of defeats. Some of those fights were taken on just a few days’ notice and I am sure more than a couple of his fights were scored with a hint of home fighter bias, as I remember the first time, I met Geraint he told me, ‘Shaun, as an away fighter, you are always one round down before the first bell.’ Unbelievably, 11 of his 17 professional fights so far, have been against fighters who were unbeaten at the time of facing him.
Ironically though, as his career record began to decline, he told me he was able to use boxing to harness the direction and structure in his life and when he faced tough times, boxing was always the crutch he could rely on. “Boxing has made me a better person, I have always worked and kept active, I’ve never been a nut job, but I have lost my way from time to time. Life is testing, I split up with my little one’s mum, so I was in the pub more than I should have been. But then boxing gave me focus and when I was on the road, I was also learning my trade, learning on the job.” It is a real testament to the character of the Welshman, that he refuses to lament the luck he has endured and instead focuses on the positive impact boxing has had on his life, constantly exhibiting his whimsical sense of humour, peppering the discussion with philosophical mottos like “Tough times don’t last, tough people do.”
So intent and focused on fighting and earning an honest wage, Goodridge took on bouts that had the odds dangerously stacked against him and even once drank a full two litre bottle of water before weighing in to ensure that the disparity in weight between him and his opponent was not too great that it would jeopardise the bout. It was a tough period, taking fights without hesitation, seeing his opponent’s hand raised every time, grabbing his holdall and sloping off, disappearing into the night as the glitz and glamour of the big fights continued after him. But he still enjoyed the action and the competition. “I had about 9 fights in a year, and I was enjoying it, but the boxing board of control wasn’t enjoying it by the way, they pulled me into a meeting and said, ‘Geraint, what is going on?’ I said, ‘What’s going on is, I’ve boxed two good prospects, one of them with Ricky Hatton’, I said ‘I haven’t been stopped and I was pinching rounds too’. He added, “If you lose four consecutive fights, you get called in front of the board, I think it is for your health, so they’re looking after you in a way.”
There was no real sign of this groove he had settled into changing, Goodridge had become something of a road warrior. There is nothing but respect for fighters in the industry who do this, they hold shows together when they are in danger of falling apart, they step in, give everything, and occasionally upset the odds against the young proteges or untested new kids on the block. However, following a defeat to Lee Cutler, a moment of reflection and the harsh reality of a child’s unbridled innocence made Goodridge question his lasting legacy in the sport. He was staying in his mum’s caravan (a place he often resided in times of need) with his son Harrison, he said, “One night we were in the caravan, we were watching my fights on YouTube, now I don’t know what it is, but not one of my wins were on YouTube, only my losses. So, we streamed them from the phone to the tv and Harrison said ‘Dad, when are you going to WIN a fight?’ I was like f*ck boxing! My son is looking at me as if I’m a loser here.”
“I was going back and forth to work and dropping by his mum’s and it was constantly in my head, ‘When are you going to win?’ thinking it all of the time. I remember going for a run and I was way overweight, probably about 14 and a half stone and I fight at around 11st 6 now, then my mate (and coach) Jamie phoned me up and I just said to him ‘Oh I’m done pal, I’m going to retire’ and Jamie said ‘Listen, where are you I’ll come down?’ he came down and said to me ‘Right, what’s going on? We set a goal, you said to me you wanted to win the Welsh title, now you’re going to retire in a caravan, is this how you want your boys to remember you?’
The fire had been lit, Goodridge lives for all his sons and the thought of not having a legacy to give them something to be proud of and shout about would have been crucifying. The reality is that his children, his family, friends, and anyone else that knows him and his infectious nature, would have nothing but admiration for the person that he is, irrespective of his boxing achievements. But failing or losing was no longer an option and he needed a route back to the Welsh title, so a fight was organised with a fighter from Steve Goodwin’s stable, Paul Greenidge. I reported from the York Hall that night and I glanced down at my notes twice to double check I was watching the correct fight, as at the time I hadn’t seen either of the fighters before. Greenidge was the unbeaten prospect and was being pinned to the ropes by a relentless, piston punching Goodridge who simply would not be denied. He bullied him from corner to corner, slinging in body shot after body shot. He took the fight via a narrow decision, though in truth he did not lose a round, don’t forget he was of course in away territory again. “I hadn’t looked at Paul at all before the fight, I just trained, I think Jamie looked at him and what I needed to do.” Said Goodridge.
Geraint Goodridge won again last year against Jordan Grannum shortly before the sad loss of his father. His dad was one of his biggest fans, adding further fuel to his unquenchable enthusiasm and desire. There is only one thing on his mind now. I sensed an emotional tone to our conversation as Goodridge told me, “All of my boys spur me on. They all inspire me, I have been to places in my life where, some people might think I haven’t always been there for them sort of thing, so I think this title, they will always remember me as a champion like, you know? and that is what spurs me on so much, I just want my boys to remember me as that. Even though people will say ‘You’re a champion anyway’ I want that moment lifting that belt on telly, that picture, it will always be there. When I get that fight, I know I’ll either get stretchered out of there, or I’ll be carrying the belt.”
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