Hopoate a firm favourite with promoters
Posted: 21 Sep 2009, 04:13
Hopoate a firm favourite with promoters
By STEVE KILGALLON - Sunday Star Times
Last updated 14:49 20/09/2009
Share
Print
Text Size
Relevant offers
Sticking your finger up another person's backside is a unique route to becoming a bankable sporting celebrity.
Inside the boxing ring, there's not a huge difference between Australian fighters Colin Wilson and John Hopoate, who meet in two weeks at the head of the Shane Cameron-David Tua undercard.
You may not have heard of Wilson, a journeyman 50-fight puncher who mines coal in the Queensland outback, when he's not fighting.
But everyone knows John Hopoate and his infamous finger and, while the man himself readily admits he remains a raw boxing novice, he is already a big drawcard for savvy boxing promoters.
When Hopoate was exiled from rugby league in 2005, he considered real estate or labouring work to feed his eight children. Instead, he found boxing would more than cover the grocery bill.
"It has helped me in a way," Hopoate readily concedes when asked about the positive effects of his lengthy rap sheet, which includes a 12-week ban for interfering with an opponent's bottom, nine weeks for telling a touch judge, "I'll knock you out, you faggot", and the killer blow, a career-ending 17-week suspension for a flying king-hit on Cronulla's Keith Galloway.
"A lot of people want to come, and promoters want to put me on because I've got a name.
"Love me or hate me, they still come to watch me.
"It helps pay the bills. I'm known in the boxing world, I've got a profile and that's what's helping me get through.
"I don't have to work, I just have to fight."
He adds, openly: "A lot come to watch me lose. I'm used to that stuff. It just eggs me on when you hear the crowd booing. It doesn't deter you - it makes you more hungry to win."
The arrival of the infamous Hoppa has hardly been welcomed by boxing's honest toilers. Wilson last week issued the requisite press release declaring his desire to clean up boxing and drive Hopoate out of the sport.
"I don't think they like other guys taking their limelight, because they've never been in the limelight, to tell the truth," Hopoate offers in return.
"Honestly, no one even knows who they are so they should be happy to be fighting me. If Colin Wilson wasn't fighting me, no one would even know his name."
He's right. And being fair to Hopoate, his unsophisticated brawling approach has brought success: after 11 fights, he was Australian heavyweight champion. After 13, he found himself in Las Vegas fighting former world champion Oliver McCall. But McCall, now 44, and who has spent time in a mental asylum, easily stopped Hopoate in two rounds.
"I went over there too early," Hopoate says. "I've got to have five or six more fights before I contemplate taking on a fight like that again. Just because I won an Australian title, I thought I was a chance, but I wasn't. I wasn't ready for bigger things."
Ad Feedback
Hopoate believes boxing has saved him after he was driven out of rugby league before his time.
"That tackle on Keith Galloway just went wrong," he protests. "I didn't intentionally go to take his head off - my contract said if I stuffed up big again they would sack me. With eight mouths to feed, who was going to jeopardise their contract to do that?
"They wanted me out of the game and my only regret is I wasn't able to finish on my own terms."
But after saying how much he hates the suits who forced him out, he has an admission to make: "A lot of it was my fault. I brought a lot of it on myself and I never, ever, shy away from that. But a lot of times, they were just looking for me to do something."
But you don't want the apologia. You want the finger-up-the-bum, don't you?
Hopoate's considered defence is that it was such a common tactic, he considered it a joke and would watch replays with team-mates and giggle.
"We never thought it was such a big deal to the outside world," he declares. "Back then, we thought it was funny. But I copped it, I took it on the chin.
"It will always live with me forever. The bum thing - I could be a priest, I could be John Hopoate, minister of the church, and they would still say it. Nothing will change."
He actually could be a minister. Truly. Among the details on his CV that hint at a much more complicated man than the NRL demon he is portrayed as, is his committed Mormon faith - he works as his church's youth pastor.
He's also a boxing trainer with the Manly rugby league team, a junior referee in the local district (surviving a heated 11-10 vote on his suitability) and runs a player-agency with former Kiwi international Tyran Smith.
And he has that sprawling family to consider, headed by the almost 17-year- old Albert, one year into a $300,000, three-year deal with Manly, and hopefully embarking on the cleanskin career his father never had.
"I'm pretty hard on my boys not to follow in my footsteps. Who wants to go through their career being suspended and put over the papers?" he asks.
"I was a crash test dummy, I did all the things you're not supposed to do, so the kids now know what not to do."
By STEVE KILGALLON - Sunday Star Times
Last updated 14:49 20/09/2009
Share
Text Size
Relevant offers
Sticking your finger up another person's backside is a unique route to becoming a bankable sporting celebrity.
Inside the boxing ring, there's not a huge difference between Australian fighters Colin Wilson and John Hopoate, who meet in two weeks at the head of the Shane Cameron-David Tua undercard.
You may not have heard of Wilson, a journeyman 50-fight puncher who mines coal in the Queensland outback, when he's not fighting.
But everyone knows John Hopoate and his infamous finger and, while the man himself readily admits he remains a raw boxing novice, he is already a big drawcard for savvy boxing promoters.
When Hopoate was exiled from rugby league in 2005, he considered real estate or labouring work to feed his eight children. Instead, he found boxing would more than cover the grocery bill.
"It has helped me in a way," Hopoate readily concedes when asked about the positive effects of his lengthy rap sheet, which includes a 12-week ban for interfering with an opponent's bottom, nine weeks for telling a touch judge, "I'll knock you out, you faggot", and the killer blow, a career-ending 17-week suspension for a flying king-hit on Cronulla's Keith Galloway.
"A lot of people want to come, and promoters want to put me on because I've got a name.
"Love me or hate me, they still come to watch me.
"It helps pay the bills. I'm known in the boxing world, I've got a profile and that's what's helping me get through.
"I don't have to work, I just have to fight."
He adds, openly: "A lot come to watch me lose. I'm used to that stuff. It just eggs me on when you hear the crowd booing. It doesn't deter you - it makes you more hungry to win."
The arrival of the infamous Hoppa has hardly been welcomed by boxing's honest toilers. Wilson last week issued the requisite press release declaring his desire to clean up boxing and drive Hopoate out of the sport.
"I don't think they like other guys taking their limelight, because they've never been in the limelight, to tell the truth," Hopoate offers in return.
"Honestly, no one even knows who they are so they should be happy to be fighting me. If Colin Wilson wasn't fighting me, no one would even know his name."
He's right. And being fair to Hopoate, his unsophisticated brawling approach has brought success: after 11 fights, he was Australian heavyweight champion. After 13, he found himself in Las Vegas fighting former world champion Oliver McCall. But McCall, now 44, and who has spent time in a mental asylum, easily stopped Hopoate in two rounds.
"I went over there too early," Hopoate says. "I've got to have five or six more fights before I contemplate taking on a fight like that again. Just because I won an Australian title, I thought I was a chance, but I wasn't. I wasn't ready for bigger things."
Ad Feedback
Hopoate believes boxing has saved him after he was driven out of rugby league before his time.
"That tackle on Keith Galloway just went wrong," he protests. "I didn't intentionally go to take his head off - my contract said if I stuffed up big again they would sack me. With eight mouths to feed, who was going to jeopardise their contract to do that?
"They wanted me out of the game and my only regret is I wasn't able to finish on my own terms."
But after saying how much he hates the suits who forced him out, he has an admission to make: "A lot of it was my fault. I brought a lot of it on myself and I never, ever, shy away from that. But a lot of times, they were just looking for me to do something."
But you don't want the apologia. You want the finger-up-the-bum, don't you?
Hopoate's considered defence is that it was such a common tactic, he considered it a joke and would watch replays with team-mates and giggle.
"We never thought it was such a big deal to the outside world," he declares. "Back then, we thought it was funny. But I copped it, I took it on the chin.
"It will always live with me forever. The bum thing - I could be a priest, I could be John Hopoate, minister of the church, and they would still say it. Nothing will change."
He actually could be a minister. Truly. Among the details on his CV that hint at a much more complicated man than the NRL demon he is portrayed as, is his committed Mormon faith - he works as his church's youth pastor.
He's also a boxing trainer with the Manly rugby league team, a junior referee in the local district (surviving a heated 11-10 vote on his suitability) and runs a player-agency with former Kiwi international Tyran Smith.
And he has that sprawling family to consider, headed by the almost 17-year- old Albert, one year into a $300,000, three-year deal with Manly, and hopefully embarking on the cleanskin career his father never had.
"I'm pretty hard on my boys not to follow in my footsteps. Who wants to go through their career being suspended and put over the papers?" he asks.
"I was a crash test dummy, I did all the things you're not supposed to do, so the kids now know what not to do."
