In the underground venue HERE, in London’s West End, Dmitry Bivol is hunched forward on a sofa. Dictaphones are jabbed towards a stoic face illuminated by a bright white studio light. He clasps his calloused hands, one thumbnail sporting a dark bruise. Barely 10 metres away, a topless Artur Beterbiev shadow-boxes in front of a green screen. It is a surreal scene.
Beterbiev is soon gone, while Bivol stays to answer questions. His answers are thoughtful yet mostly directed at the ground, his gaze barely straying above the semi-circle of audio recorders in front of him. Bivol’s English is not as dynamic as his boxing, but it is good; he just happens to be a man of few words. Thankfully, from our perspective, he is a man of more words than Beterbiev, his similarly part-Russian rival.
With this in mind, one moment juts out of his conversation with The Independent and other publications. It is the moment he describes the week after his loss to Beterbiev – a controversial result in October, which marked Bivol’s first defeat as a professional and crowned Beterbiev the undisputed light-heavyweight champion.
“It was a… tasteless life,” Bivol says, with a surprisingly easy poeticism. There is the slightest grimace from the 34-year-old, too. “It was empty, no emotions, not enjoying the food you want to enjoy. [But] it was a short time when I didn’t like [life]. In the beginning, you don’t want to see too many people, you don’t want to talk too much, but then I just switched the negative emotions and started enjoying life. You start finding some good stuff, enjoying the food, enjoying company.”
As much as gratitude and hope can be audible, they are exactly that when Bivol delivers his next line: “I have another chance, not too many people get another chance.”
For a man who had never lost before October (his standout win saw him dismantle Saul “Canelo” Alvarez in 2022), and who beat Beterbiev in the eyes of many fans and pundits, Bivol has a startlingly calm perspective on defeat and redemption. He may not be truly at peace, as he looks ahead to his rematch with Beterbiev on Saturday, but he is calm. Even as his promoter Eddie Hearn raged in Riyadh, especially at the 116-112 scorecard in Beterbiev’s favour (the others read 115-113, 114-114), Bivol was calm.
How? “I don’t know,” he laughs. “I just didn’t want to spend my energy on this part: to be disappointed. I need this energy for the future, to fix these problems.”
Later in the day, Hearn tells us: “I couldn’t believe he wasn’t going mad. When we got in the ring after, the whole corner were so convinced they’d won the fight, and when we looked over at Beterbiev’s, they were dejected. In the changing room, everyone was fuming. Then at the press conference, [the media] were like, ‘Do you think you won?’ And he was like: ‘Look, it’s up to the judges.’ That’s him, that’s probably a very nice individual, but I didn’t feel that way!”
Beterbiev vs Bivol 1 was an exquisite fight. Beforehand, the feeling was that Bivol would have to box the perfect bout to survive against the 40-year-old, who had knocked out every previous opponent. Either Bivol would win a decision, or Beterbiev would catch him before the final bell, rendering any of the younger man’s success worthless. But we were wrong.
Bivol did survive Beterbiev, yes, bottling the Russian-Canadian’s brutality like no man before him, while complementing that defensive genius with risky offence – often and intelligently; yet the judges favoured Beterbiev’s forward pressure and strong end to an uncomfortably tense contest. “On the night,” Hearn recalls, “I thought [Bivol] won by three or four rounds. I watched it back, I thought he won by one or two rounds.
“I think the finish [by Bivol] was… maybe not ‘poor’, but the finish was great from Beterbiev, and he pretty much won [rounds] 10, 11 and 12. I think that took it [for the judges]. What I was most p***ed off about was: everybody on my side and a lot of people up close thought Bivol won the fight, yet not one judge scored it for Bivol. When I got in there and it was unanimous, I just thought: ‘un-f***ing-believable’.”
As Hearn notes, Beterbiev and his team looked less sure of victory than Bivol and his group. When the surprising scorecards came in, more than one observer commented on the presence of Ramzan Kadyrov, the head of the Chechen Republic, in Beterbiev’s corner. Kadyrov is a controversial and influential figure. Naturally, conspiracies began to swirl.
So, how did Bivol – half-Russian and half-Korean – feel about the politician’s appearance on fight night? “I was focused on my team, I didn’t see anything,” he says. “He’s the president of the country where [Beterbiev] is from. He’s a really great athlete, and people of his nationality respect him and love him, and of course, the president of the country will support that athlete.” Bivol may be more diplomatic than Kadyrov, who has been blacklisted by the US over alleged human rights abuses and crimes against humanity. Kadyrov denies the allegations.
And what of boxing politics? Turki Al-Sheikh, the man behind Saudi Arabia’s aggressive entry into boxing, suggested last year that he wanted Beterbiev to beat Bivol. That happened. Yet as Bivol mentions, Al-Sheikh also wanted Tyson Fury to avenge his loss to Oleksandr Usyk, but the judges awarded the Ukrainian a second win. So, Bivol is not worried about outside interference.
As far as Bivol is concerned, Al-Sheikh’s involvement in his career has been beneficial; the day after October’s showdown, the Saudi adviser held talks with Bivol and Beterbiev over a rematch, and it has materialised quickly enough for undisputed status to be on the line again – unlike in Fury vs Usyk 2. Even so… “I had a goal to be undisputed, now I don’t have a goal to be undisputed,” Bivol says. “I want revenge.”
Bivol is coy about how he will exact that revenge, but he likes the simple phrase: “I have to add more.” Was he better in rematches, in his amateur career? “Sometimes I was, sometimes I wasn’t,” he admits. “But it depends on [doing] something different. I have to change a little bit, not too much. I just need to add more good moments. But I have to add power.”
Power is not something Beterbiev needs to add. His is innate. “I got harder punches on me [in the past] of course,” Bivol says, “but [those fighters] needed to put in more effort to reach this level of power. Every time he’s throwing punches, it’s hard.”
Against Beterbiev, Bivol so nearly bridged the gap between survival and success. Now he gets another chance.
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