At the Ben Davison Performance Centre in Essex, Moses Itauma is being put through his paces. You might expect one of the most hyped young athletes in the world to be on some sort of special, lab-engineered training programme, but no – it’s burpees, burpees, then more burpees. To the metronomic grunt of his trainer, he drops to the floor and pushes back up again on his gloves. Then it’s running back and forth through a set of tyres on the floor, and jumping up and down on the edge of the ring.
Even by boxing’s standards, the superlatives being rained down on this 20-year-old are quite something. Every pundit with a microphone has labelled him the future of the sport, from the legendary – and notoriously hard-to-please – American trainer Teddy Atlas to Tyson Fury, who has sparred Itauma and laughed off the idea of ever facing him for real (“Definitely not – do you think I'm stupid!”). The Kent-born heavyweight even recently gained the Joe Rogan stamp of approval, with the podcaster anointing him “the real deal” in a viral clip.
“I get asked a lot: what makes you so good?” Itauma says, after cooling down and taking a seat on a nearby calf-raise machine. “It’s not even one specific thing. I think it’s more that heavyweights often don’t start boxing until their late teens or early twenties. Like Anthony Joshua was 18. Deontay Wilder didn’t start boxing until he was 20.”
Instead, Itauma started aged nine. This enabled him to develop a set of skills usually associated with lighter fighters: excellent balance and footwork, frightening hand speed, fluent shot selection and combination punching. Combined with real knockout power, it’s a formidable package that has left him unbeaten both as an amateur and a pro. Itauma's rapid dismantling of each step up in opponent – most recently the durable and wily Dillian Whyte, inside one round – has fans clamouring for him to get a world title shot now rather than later. (His precociousness has always been part of the story: many tipped Itauma to break Mike Tyson’s record as the youngest ever heavyweight champion, though that ship has passed).
Plenty of prospects are burdened with the expectation that they will become world champion. But as the stand-out talent in the sport’s glamour division, there is more for Itauma to deal with. Emerging at a time when Anthony Joshua and Tyson Fury are in the latter stages of their careers, he is expected to become the face of British boxing – the man on whom the sport’s popularity with the general public rests. For a quiet, thoughtful young man with little taste – at least yet – for trash talk or playing up to the cameras, this is in some ways even more daunting than getting into the ring.
What’s your earliest boxing memory?
Probably joining St Mary’s Amateur Boxing Club. I was about nine years old. I remember turning up in a yellow polo T-shirt. I didn’t enjoy boxing at first, because it was so tough. I threw up the first couple of times, so I quit and played football for a little bit. Then I went back to boxing.
What did your parents think when you started the sport for real?
I know my mum hated it and she was trying to get my uncles to tell me to stop, but I don’t know. I don’t really think about that too much. My mum used to come to my fights. My father, I don’t think he was too bothered at the beginning.
I saw him interviewed at your last fight.
It sounded like he was proud, didn’t it?
It did.
Like I said: I don’t really pay too much attention.
What are your memories of moving to the UK from Slovakia when you were four?
I just remember it not being as clean as Slovakia. When we first arrived, there was nine of us: me, my mum and dad, two brothers, my uncle, auntie, and my two cousins. All in a two-bedroom house. It felt cramped, like everyone was on top of each other. I know it was definitely difficult for my mum.
You’ve got an unbeaten record as a pro and an amateur. What’s the worst you’ve been hurt?
I’ve been hurt loads of times. That’s part of learning. I remember one time I came back to Ben [Davison] and I had blood pouring down my nose, and it started coming out black. I was like: ain’t it funny in boxing, you go get hurt to learn? I’ve taken a lot of lessons.
Part of the mythology around you is that you turned up, as a 15-year-old still in school uniform, to fight [Olympic medallist] Joe Joyce. What’s your version of that story?
My coach asked me if I wanted to spar Joe. The gym was in north-west London and I was in Kent, so he said: take your stuff to school and I’ll pick you up afterwards. I remember I’d just had a whole day of exams. My lunch was a flapjack and Lucozade. I went to spar him and I believe I did six rounds and went home, then back to school the next morning.
People like to paint boxers as young tearaways. What were you like as a schoolkid?
My father’s presence definitely impacted my life a lot. When I was younger he was very present, so I was very well behaved. And then when he wasn’t present, I ain’t gonna lie, I was a little shit. I remember my teacher pulling me out of a lesson towards the end. He’s like, what’s going on? You’re causing all these teachers grief. I basically just told him: I know what I want to do in life and school ain’t gonna help me get there. I had this weird feeling when I was a kid that I was always going to be successful. I just didn’t know how.
I was looking at TikTok the other day and Joe Rogan came up talking about you.
The thing is, I like Joe Rogan. I listen to a lot of his podcasts. It’s good because obviously my talent is getting recognised. But at the same time, it’s like now that he knows your name to say something good, he also knows your name to say something bad. Does that make sense? So it’s like the more people that know your name for good reasons can also know your name for bad reasons as well. So you’ve got to take the positives and the negatives.
Is that a bit scary?
It’s not scary. It’s just like… I wouldn’t say I’m a shy person, it’s just that I’m definitely not boisterous. When I walk into a room, I’d rather people not know I’m there. That’s the type of person I am. Boxing is just something I’ve always wanted to do – always had to do, or I don’t feel comfortable in myself. I never wanted to be famous. Even now when people say I’m a famous boxer and this and that… I choose to ignore it. I don’t class myself as what people class me as.
On every boxing podcast, in every boxing magazine, on every punditry panel they're unanimously hyping you up.
That’s what I’m trying to say. Then I’ll do one bad thing, and everybody’s going to unanimously talk shit.
Did all this ramp up a lot after the Dillian Whyte fight? That was some finish.
I don’t think it’s what I did, it’s who I did it to. I was annoyed when the fight got stopped. I didn’t get a clean knockout. I was in training camp for 14 weeks, just for it to go one round. It felt like an anticlimax. I wanted to go at least four or five rounds.
You’ve spent a lot of time sparring Tyson Fury. Does he reach out when you have a big victory like that?
I think he speaks more about me to the general public than he actually does to me. Right before my fight he messaged me saying, ‘Good luck, you’re going to smash it.’ But even when he speaks to me, I know he doesn’t speak 100 per cent of what he thinks. I know when he’s speaking to the cameras and the general public, he does.
Maybe he thinks he’s going to fight you one day…
Nah, we won’t fight. I don’t think I would want to fight him. I sparred him, that’s enough for me. I had the privilege to speak with him when I trained with him. He’s a very interesting man. It was a big blessing sharing the ring with him. It was even more of a blessing asking him about life, about religion, about money. He’s a deep thinker about relationships. So it was definitely a blessing.
How do you feel about the ‘next face of British boxing’ stuff being heaped on you? You look at how Fury’s done it, how AJ’s done it – they’re quite different approaches.
From what I’ve learned over the last couple of months, you can’t really plan too far ahead. Something could happen just right around the corner and your plans get wiped out. So I definitely do play it by ear.
I’m a big advocate for making mistakes. Sometimes I might even know the right choice and the wrong choice and I still go for the wrong choice, just to see where it gets me. I look at the people that have done it before me. Anthony Joshua has done it one way: commercial guy, nice guy, very polished, media-trained. Tyson Fury – however he’s done it – more of a maverick way. And then Oleksandr Usyk comes along, all the way from Ukraine, and has managed to sell out stadiums in the UK and Saudi Arabia. Speaks very little English and the English fans love him. So he’s a man that’s also there to be looked at. All I can do is take little pieces from every fighter.
I’m really interested in you not wanting to have a nickname, as most fighters do.
I don’t want a nickname. I think Moses is good. I don’t even like it when people call me Mo, to be honest.
Who do you see as your main competition over the next few years, as you reach the top of the division?
Joseph Parker could be one of them. I think Kabayel could be one. They’re the two that come to mind.
Do you think you’ll fight Usyk?
Nah. He’s old, man. 38. I think he’s 38. Had he been like 35, maybe. But 38 is two years from 40, man. Why would he take it?
Would you beat him?
I think so.
What kind of challenge does Jermaine Franklin represent?
Everything that’s a question mark in my career, he’s proved that he can do. He’s durable, he’s game. He’s tough. He throws hands.
Any tension between you?
No. I don’t have to hate somebody to fight them. I feel like fighting off your emotions is something you do when you first start your career, because you ain’t got no money. But as you start developing as a fighter, you realise your style shouldn’t be based on emotions. So if I wake up today and I’m happy, that means I’m going to fight a whole different way tomorrow. I don’t place too much importance on emotions.
So the saying ‘a happy fighter is a dangerous fighter’ isn’t true?
Nah, absolutely not. I mean, Mike Tyson didn’t seem too happy.
Good point.
I would say when people say that, they mean fighters who are pleased in their preparation, or something along those lines. Not a happy, cheerful person.
Where would victory on Saturday leave you in the heavyweight conversation?
I don’t really know. I don’t feel like that’s a question for me to answer. It’s probably more for the fans.
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