Michael Conlan was knocked out of the ring unconscious late on Saturday night in the final round of his fight with Leigh Wood in Nottingham and rushed to hospital.
Conlan is fine, relax.
Wood can finally celebrate and everybody witness to the epic fight can breathe. It was extreme, one of the most emotionally draining nights I have ever had at ringside and arguably the most dramatic fight I have ever seen.
There was a world title for the winner, but by Sunday morning the belt was a bonus to the relief Wood felt when news of Conlan’s good health reached his ears.
It was special from the very first bell until the end at 1 minute 25 seconds of the last round. It finished with Conlan on the safe side of the ropes, dumped at the feet and in the arms of his father, John, and brother, Jamie. He had lost one fight in the ring; there were now real fears that he was entering another. Back in the ring, Wood was bruised, confused and cut, and had fought too many rounds on his boxing instincts. The pair dragged every single one of us in attendance along for the ride.
In the opener, with two seconds left, Conlan dropped Wood heavily with a looping left. Wood was out as he landed flat on his back, his head crashing off the canvas. He beat the count, the bell sounded. It saved him – boxing is about tiny margins.
Conlan tried to finish the injured Wood. It was difficult to watch, but Wood is a tough man, a man shaped by rejection and hard, hard work in his role far from the glamour. Wood slowly recovered his senses, as Conlan stopped trying to finish it and settled down. The fight was barely four rounds old and it felt like a classic. A crowd of 10,000 lucky souls played their crucial part.
They entered an unwritten pact by about round six and each took turns at hitting the other to body and head. Conlan was tucking up and blocking far more, but Wood was marauding and putting the pressure on from bell to bell. He was hitting arms, shoulders and hips. It was relentless, it was quite brilliant. Wood was losing rounds, but his pressure was taking a great toll on Conlan.
At the end of the 10th it was clear that Wood was trailing, bleeding and could still be hurt, but he was in the fight. Conlan knew that and sat down wearily in his corner. It was a pivotal 60 seconds for both; Wood got up eager and Conlan found some fresh wind and moved and blocked beautifully. And then with about 20 seconds left on the clock, Wood connected, Conlan slipped on the water that had bubbled on one of the ring logos and then he lost his legs and went down. The water was in his own corner, it was thrown at him by his cornermen each time he went back at the end of a round.
Conlan regained his tired legs and told the referee, Steve Gray, it was a slip. It was ruled a knockdown; Conlan was fuming, Wood ecstatic and then the bell sounded. Conlan’s trainer, Adam Booth, argued with the ref. Ben Davison, in Wood’s corner, hurried to get his man sat down for 60 seconds of repairs. The others in the Conlan corner sat him down. It was raw drama and then the bell sounded for the last round. That’s when Rocky plays in your head.
Conlan was fighting a losing battle against Wood in the 85 seconds of the final round. It was a combination of fatigue, hurt and the realisation of knowing, from a life in rings and gyms, that the fight was lost. He still ducked, blocked, weaved and believed and then – crash. It was dark, it was over and for Wood it was joy.
A second before the official finish, Conlan was leading, but the scores were not needed. The last numbers will now form just another part of the tiny boxing miracle performed by Wood and the unforgettable end of Conlan’s night. Conlan was up on all three cards; three rounds on one and just the one round on the other two. I had it clear for Conlan, but had asked from the end of round six: Can Wood win this? Up until then, he had no chance, he was fighting inside a fog. It was instincts only.
Wood now deserves the praise he refused late on Saturday night when he stood in the centre of the ring asking for calm as he kept glancing over at the huddle of medical staff attending to Conlan at ringside. I spoke to Wood after Conlan had been taken away. He held his title belt tight in his bandaged fists but was trembling with fading adrenaline. The emotion was clear in his voice. He had two bad cuts spread across his left eyebrow. “Is he OK?” he kept asking as people moved all over a shocked ringside. Wood can shout and celebrate now; late on Saturday night he was totally respectful. And, at that very moment, fearful.
The finish was perfect, truly brutal to watch again and shocking live. Conlan is backed up, four feet above his father and brother, weaving the same elusive magic when a right slips in just a fraction higher than the other shots. It lands on the temple, above the glove and Conlan goes limp, his body folds and Wood lands again to send him heavily in a sleeping bundle through the ropes. His fight is over, Wood is still champion and the panic at ringside starts.
And in that tiny savage passage of fighting there is everything you need to know and everything you want to forget about the business of boxing. Wood had his miraculous salvation, Conlan had his heartbreak, a father had his unconscious son in his hands, a mother somewhere screamed and just under 10,000 stood and howled. Some hugged each other, others had tears. That is how fights in my chosen game can end, and end with just one simple punch. And end with just seconds left on the clock.
Conlan was strapped to a gurney, his gloves still on, and taken quickly to hospital. He was conscious and talking to people who could bend down and get their ears close enough to his moving lips. At the end of the fight he was exhausted and “fatigue was kicking in”, which he said at 6am in a defiant message on social media. Just seven hours earlier there had been real dread when the security and medical staff had cleared a passage from ringside and led him away. By about midnight the news was positive, the doctors clearly reassured by his responses, even before the scan results. “He’s talking,” I was told when he was still waiting for confirmation at that dark hour, but he was not in danger. He was never in the twilight limbo.
Wood was in another type of limbo; a winner of a great fight, a world champion, and he refused to celebrate. That is class. He can roar now and he deserves all the praise.
Conlan wants a rematch. It makes sense. “I’ll be back,” Conlan warned. This is boxing and it too often makes no sense.
