Cheema bangs drum for boxing’s new era
DYLAN Cheema – the stylish spark that ignited a Sikh boxing revolution – has read the comments and overheard the whispers following his first loss.
He’s slipped the “told you he wouldn’t make it” barbs with the same grace displayed in the ring. He has grasped the positives from a single negative performance.
The Coventry lightweight, one of the most articulate, intelligent pros in the business, has adopted an “any publicity is good publicity” approach.
It’s all good for business – and Dylan is well versed in business matters: before becoming a full-time fighter he ran a warehouse, his parents own a supermarket network.
“The comments come with being in the spotlight,” the 26-year-old shrugged. “Everyone is entitled to their opinion. I don’t really care what they say as long as they’re talking about me.
“When anyone loses, they are dismissed as washed-up. Liam Smith is a perfect example – he was supposedly washed-up after losing to Canelo, but came back to smash Eubank.
“I will do what I need to do and I know what I need to do. I was beaten as a kick-boxer (Dylan was a world class kick-boxer) and came back. I know how to come back stronger and with the bit between my teeth.
“Everyone has an opinion and they are right to have an opinion. But the only three people I will listen to are my three coaches. I have a very good team around me.”
The one blip on Dylan’s eight fight record is not the stuff boxing requiems are made of. He lost – by a single point over four rounds – to tough Jordan Ellison at Manchester Arena last November.
For any other boxer that would be a footnote, but Dylan is weighed down by hefty expectations. Those expectations are both a blessing and a burden. He deserves the luxury of being considered a work in progress.
After just two professional fights, Dylan sprang from nowhere to dazzle in last year’s nationally televised Boxxer tournament. A rank outsider, he won the competition – knocking out Otis Lookham, outpointing Scott Melvin and outclassing Rylan Charlton in a single night – to claim a £40,000 prize pot and lucrative major sponsorship deal.
Manager PJ Rowson told me he’d do it. Frankly, I didn’t believe the veteran.
That one night gave Dylan a short-cut to stardom.
“I’ll be honest, the performances since have not been at that level,” Dylan admitted, “but I will be better, we’re working on that. It’s a work in progress.
“People said it (winning Boxxer) went to my head. Hand on heart, it did not.”
Frankly, professional boxing needs Dylan Cheema. He is pure boxing office gold, sells an outstanding number of tickets and turns any show he appears on into a memorable carnival.
What’s more, he has the quick-silver style and angles of a peak Amir Khan. With Sikh supporters roaring, he enters the ring to an orchestra of dhol – traditional Indian – drummers.
Cheema turns a boxing bill into an event, even a happening.
It’s the kind of entrance that makes hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention. Long may it continue.
“The drummers will always be with me,” said Dylan. “When people see me they ask about the drummers first, my opponent second. Many haven’t been to an Asian wedding, the drummers give them a taste of what it’s like.”
Within Britain’s Sikh community, Dylan has already gained hero sporting status. That’s added pressure on his slim shoulders.
“There is going to be an explosion,” he predicted. “What Amir Khan did for boxing in the Muslim community, I’m doing for boxing in the Sikh community.
“My parents are 100 per cent supportive. Like any other parents, they’d prefer I didn’t box, but they realise this is my dream, I’m putting everything into it.”
Financially, Dylan Cheema doesn’t need professional boxing. He does it because he loves the game.
And he doesn’t need to bang the drum to announce his ring presence. He’s got an army of musicians doing that for him.