The terrible marks of battle covered the face of Regis Prograis, the fallen champion, as he came out first for the inquisition in the basement of the Chase Center in San Francisco. An hour earlier, soon after the final bell which confirmed that his ordeal was over and he had suffered a shutout defeat to the brilliant Devin Haney who became the new WBC junior-welterweight world champion, Prograis spoke with raw honesty in the ring.
“That motherfucker’s good, he’s better than I thought he was,” Prograis said of Haney, who had knocked him down in the third round and hurt him again on numerous occasions during a long and painful beating. “I just couldn’t get to him. I thought he was a soft puncher, but he does have 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 while red blotches were smeared across his forehead, and beneath his left eye, like lipstick applied in a drunken daze. But his grace was clear as he praised Haney, who had won every round on all three scorecards and produced a masterclass which propels him towards the highest ranks of the pound-for-pound stakes. Haney, the 25-year-old former undisputed world lightweight champion, looked so much bigger, stronger, faster and younger than Prograis in his first fight at junior-welter. Rejuvenated by not having to starve himself to make the 135lbs lightweight limit, Haney produced the finest performance of his career so far.
Prograis told him as much in the immediate aftermath of his crushing loss in a sold-out venue: “I said, ‘Bro, you’re better than I thought you were.’” All his sneering words before the fight, which had mocked Haney’s apparent lack of power and fragile chin, were replaced by this new and sincere respect. “I was trying and trying and trying but I couldn’t get to him,” Prograis said, as he lauded Haney for his “quick and sneaky power” and dazzling footwork.
“I trained my ass off and it just wasn’t good enough,” Prograis admitted. The 34-year-old cut a moving figure for, rather than hiding away in sorrow, he had come to face us. An American reporter spoke solemnly but compassionately as he urged Prograis to “hold your head up high, walk tall. You’re still a champion to the people and I wouldn’t give up if I was you.”
Prograis nodded as the old fire in him blazed again. “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, while they were crying: ‘Bro, pick your head up. It’s a fight. You’re gonna win or lose. I’m not gonna lie. For this fight I trained my ass off for four months, and it just wasn’t good enough. Sometimes that’s gonna happen in life.”
Eddie Hearn, who promoted both men for this fight and had appeared to favour Haney all through a vociferous and sometimes bitter buildup, wrapped up the Prograis press conference by saying, “Well done, Devin.” Hearn quickly realised his slip of the tongue and corrected himself, a little sheepishly, by turning to the deposed champion and saying his correct name: “Regis.”
Prograis glanced up at him, shook his head with a bleak laugh, and sighed: “Goddamn, Eddie.”
While others waited for the regal arrival of Haney, 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 but for the fact that his seven-year-old daughter, Khalessi, held his left hand which had failed to do any damage to Haney.
Prograis turned when I called his name. He smiled and walked over to extend his right hand which had also not hurt Haney. But none of this mattered much any longer. I told him how much I’d admired the way he had conducted himself amid the heartbreak. As Prograis murmured his thanks and we clenched hands I thought again of how much you really learn about the character of a man in defeat.
Five minutes later, in the same room Progais had just departed, the new king of boxing swept in with his entourage. Wearing designer sunglasses and white gloves, Haney had also put back the diamond studs in his ear lobes and slipped on the watch which is rumoured 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 seems intent on extending their one-fight promotional deal which had brought big-time boxing back to San Francisco, where Haney had been born and lived the first seven years of his life, for the first time in over two decades.
Unlike his vanquished opponent, Haney did not have a mark on his face as he spoke with a serene mix of nonchalance and conviction. It had been a performance of such virtuosity that Haney simply grinned 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 bout. Prograis had connected with just 39 punches, compared to the 139 blows which had busted up his face, but Haney shrugged. He said it felt as if Prograis had landed even fewer and that not one punch had caused him any trouble. Haney compared it to a sparring session while also reminding us that Prograis had been considered, until Saturday night, as the most accomplished and hardest-hitting world champion at 140lbs.
“I did everything that I said I was gonna do,” Haney crooned. “I went in there and I handicapped him. We knew that he was gonna come in with a big left hand but we capitalised on his habit of leaning in … and then I hit him with big shots.”
Haney smiled, for he had grown tired of being chastised as a light-hitter who had not knocked out anyone for four years. “I knew that I was hurting him,” he said bluntly before explaining that the severe weight-cut he had been forced to make for so long in the lighter division had robbed him of all his power. Haney spoke of his regular shock that the hard-hitting authority he had in the gym disappeared as soon as he stepped through the ropes for a lightweight contest.
“I was killing myself to make 135,” Haney said. “I would go into a fight and be depleted. I wouldn’t be my best self. Now I’m able to go in there and be the real Devin Haney.”
He stressed 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 147lbs. “Devin is remarkable,” his father said. “He’s truly special and he showed that tonight.”
Haney Sr went as 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 at welterweight in July in the performance of the year, will move up to 154lbs in 2024 – when he and Spence meet in a rematch. Haney Sr implied that he would like Crawford to come back down to welterweight after that bout, for this is the division where he feels his son will be at his best. But, in the meantime, there are plenty of enticing and lucrative bouts at junior welterweight.
Ryan Garcia was the name mentioned most often after Prograis had been dispatched. Hearing that Garcia had called him out on social media Haney smiled 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 formidable fighter from Baltimore, who knocked out Garcia in April, was currently unlikely. He blamed Davis for constantly talking down the prospect of their meeting in the ring and claimed that Garcia was a much more obvious opponent.
His father, a relentless trash-talker, added: “Stop letting Tank and his team piss on your head and tell you it’s rain with these insignificant fights.”
But the fact Haney is so good and so versatile that he can be bracketed with elite fighters at different weights, from Davis to Crawford, is the most vivid sign of his new star appeal.
Haney was fortunate to have won his last fight, a desperately close decision on points against a certified great in Vasiliy Lomachenko in May, but that bout had been his last at lightweight. He looks transformed now and the way in which he hurt, dropped and utterly dominated a boxer as tough and strong as Prograis underlined the opportunities which now await him in fights where he will no longer be drained by savage weight-cuts.
“It made a tremendous difference and you can see that in my performance,” Haney said. “I feel so much stronger and, in this camp, I was able to recover and relax more. I felt great. This means everything. Since I was a young kid, my dream was 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 was also quick to say how much he wanted to box in Saudi Arabia, where the money is as obscene as the lack of human rights remain glaring. His diamonds sparkled and his gold teeth gleamed as he reflected just a little longer on how a masterful performance had elevated his often unfairly maligned reputation – despite having already been an undisputed world champion with a flawless 30-0 record. But stripping Prograis of his title with such brutal efficiency turned doubters into believers in the space of 12 sumptuous rounds.
“I want the biggest fights which make the most money,” Haney said as he looked ahead to his glittering future, seemingly oblivious to the fact that, one night, boxing will get him too – just like it had done to Prograis who lost for the second time in 31 fights.
As all the talk of money-spinning bouts continued it was hard not to think of his opponent travelling back through the darkened streets. But at least Regis Prograis was not alone. He still had his family and team around him as well as the briefly consoling knowledge that, in accepting a devastating loss with such class and composure, he had looked more like a champion of a man than ever before.
