GREAT EXPECTATIONS
Q uick work was the way to stir up body heat in “The Dungeon,” so you either trained hard or you froze. Sparring had to be done in the center of the pockmarked ring canvas, because leaning against the flimsy ropes risked falling through onto the dank concrete floor. Each time the power went out, and it went out frequently, the makeshift gym became a dark, musty void pierced only by small pools of light. This was Jaron Ennis’ boxing incubator. Built for him and his two older brothers, Derek and Farah, by their father in the basement of a Germantown Philadelphia church, it is where Jaron learned to control space, honing his kinesthetic awareness and reflexes. Fighting under flashlights, a speeding fist would show briefly, then disappear. A head would appear, then vanish. It was boxing by strobe light. Now largely known to the world by his nickname, “Boots,” it has been a while since Jaron has fought in the shadows. Nonetheless, the welterweight champion feels like he is still there, even after dismantling the previously undefeated Eimantas Stanionis in six rounds to capture the Ring championship and unify the IBF and WBA titles back in April at Atlantic City’s Boardwalk Hall. Against Stanionis, the best opponent he has ever faced, Ennis (34-0, 30 KOs) looked as sharp as he ever has in his burgeoning career. The only one who thought otherwise was Ennis himself. Days after the win, it still gnawed at the 27-year-old that he did not get a chance to show his “tool bag.” He was just about to reach in, as he put it, when Stanionis’ trainer, Marvin Somodio, told referee David Fields to end the fight. “I’m not happy. I’m not happy at all,” Ennis told The Ring. “People tell me that was the best I looked. I don’t think so. I felt like I was just warming up. I could have done so much more, and for real, I feel robbed. I wanted to show everyone what I am truly capable
career in 2014 with a 24-5-1 (13 KOs) record, will be the first to admit that he underachieved. Farah, who ended his 11-year pro career with a 22-2 (12 KOs) record, went as far as the NABF super middleweight title. “You want a word for Boots growing up: spoiled. Spoiled rotten,” laughs Pooh, 43. “Anything Boots wanted, he got, whether it was from me, my dad or Farah. When we were teenagers, we trained in dirt in that dungeon. Boots gets the shiny, new stuff by the time he was a teenager. “My problem was I didn’t listen when I was younger or would look for ways to get out of running. None of us are where we are without my dad. He loves boxing, and I mean he truly lives and breathes boxing. He would rather raise a fighter than get him from another trainer. And my dad is hard. [He and I] were not a good mix. “I hated to train. (laughs) Boots loves it. When Boots isn’t training, he’s training fighters. He lives here [in the gym], like my dad. I was my own worst enemy. I relied on natural ability. I would lie and say I was going running, go out and sit in front of the train tracks. Boots would try to race the train and try to beat it. (laughs) I would come back and splash water on my face and say I did a few miles. My dad never found out. Boots would never do that.” Bozy’s passion centered on his sons doing something in boxing. He had a brief pro career of his own, compiling a record of 4-2 (3 KOs) between 1977- 84, and immersed himself in the sport at the PAL Center at Seymour and Green Streets in Philadelphia. When his sons were born, he began shaping and molding them into boxers. Bozy branched out. He began taking in anyone who was willing to work – and listen. He would work 16-hour days between construction and factory work, walking around with his eyes at half-mast. Once he entered the gym in the evening, he woke up. So it’s no wonder that over the last decade, the longest Boots has gone
Who is Boots? It’s rather easy: a gym rat. He was born into boxing. To understand Boots, you must first understand his father and trainer, Derek “Bozy” Ennis. He never likes to refer to himself as “a trainer.” In the Germantown section of Philadelphia, he had built a reputation as a street slap fighter. No one wanted to test the tall, lean kid with the fast hands. He was so elusive, it was like hitting smoke. And he carried the kind of spirit that once you were around him, you never wanted to leave. He carries it today. When you walk down the rickety
From Round 1, Boots found the head of Stanionis with ominous regularity.
of doing. I felt like I really didn’t do anything. I’m being honest. I was just reaching into my tool bag when they stopped it. Fans may not understand what I’m saying, but everyone in the gym and my team knows. “I didn’t sit down on any punches. Everything was speed. Anytime I did sit down, I missed, so I went back to the speed punches. I was having fun – I’ll admit that. But I have a standard I fight up to. I fought Stanionis at about 30, 40% of who I am. Like I always say: The better the opponent, the better I’ll be.” The Stanionis win was followed by questions about who would be next.
wooden steps of the Grant Avenue gym in Philadelphia, where Bozy works with his fighters, you are dipped into a cacophony of thumping heavy bags, rhythmic speedbags and the three-minute buzzer that ends each sparring session. Among little kids running around with oversized boxing gloves, teenagers pounding the mitts, heavyweight title contenders trying to reclaim their careers, budding pros and established pros, you’ll find Bozy’s prized pupil. Derek Jr. (aka “Pooh”) was 16 and Farah was 14 when Boots was born. It was as if Boots had three fathers. Pooh Ennis, who finished his 12-year pro
There are viable unifications with WBC titleholder Mario Barrios (29- 2-1, 18 KOs) and WBO beltholder Brian Norman Jr. (27-0, 21 KOs) at Philadelphia’s Wells Fargo Center in September, though Uzbekistan’s Shakhram Giyasov (17-0, 10 KOs) may stand in the way as the WBA’s mandatory challenger. While those answers remain in the air, we can ponder questions about the champion himself.
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