By Lewis Watson
“I GUESS it shouldn’t be a surprise that most of us end up as f***ed up as we are,” reflects Michael Katsidis. The harsh Brisbane sun gleans off the chiselled cheeks of the former lightweight world title challenger as he details a testing retirement to Boxing News.
“Boxing isn’t a normal sport. In what other world would you have tens of thousands of fans sitting there in an arena watching two guys punch the living crap out of each other? The highs are incredible but the lows? [laughs] well, they can’t get much lower…
“You’re on a constant mission to replace that adrenaline that fuelled your career,” he continues. “But it’s futile. No amount of drugs or alcohol can come close to standing in the middle of that ring, face-to-face with your opponent and thousands chanting your name.”
The 44-year-old and former Olympian speaks from first-hand experience. Eight months ago, Katsidis was released from prison in Australia after serving a second term for charges relating to drug possession. After retiring from the sport in 2017 the self-styled ‘Gladiator’ fell into a spiral of addiction and abuse of his own body.
“I didn’t just fall into addiction, I plummeted,” Katsidis corrected. “I am ashamed to say it now, but I couldn’t recognise myself. I wouldn’t be able to go a day without drinking or using, and in the blink of an eye one thing leads to another. I was an addict, and the only people that I felt comfortable around were the ones that were supplying me with drugs – it was a vicious cycle.
“I didn’t want to go on. I had nothing in my life that could fill the space that boxing did, and nobody seemed to care about me any more. Now if I’m not a champion, who cares?”
But Katsidis’ problems didn’t just surface after hanging up his gloves. Trauma has been a constant in the Australian’s life and it’s something that he has only begun to understand later in life. Aged six, Michael and his older brother, Stathi Katsidis, were sexually abused by a male babysitter.
“My memory is obviously hazy,” he explained, “but it is something that has underpinned my life ever since I was a kid. The babysitter would come over and invite his friends and they would have me and Stathi playing sick games and getting us to do [sexual] stuff. It was sickening, but we were so young – you have no idea at the time if this is normal behaviour, and obviously it warped mine and Stathi’s view on what is right and wrong.
“We had our innocence ripped from us. It has taken so much from me in terms of how I have managed relationships in my life and, ultimately, it took my brother’s life.”
In 2010, just five weeks out from the most important fight of the Australian’s career, against the pound-for-pound ranked Juan Manuel Marquez, Katsidis was bludgeoned by a punch more vicious than any uppercut his lightweight division could muster. Grief.
His brother, Stathi, one of Australia’s most prominent and successful jockeys, was found dead in his Brisbane home, with the coroner’s report revealing a “cocktail of drugs – including ecstasy, cocaine, methyl-amphetamines – and alcohol” was found in his body.
Standing in a humid boxing gym in Bangkok, Thailand, deep into the 30th camp of his professional career, the beads of sweat cascading down the Australian’s face morphed into tears as his trainer Brendan Smith broke the shattering news.
“As soon as Brendan told me he had to talk to me, I knew already it was going to be about Stathi,” Katsidis explained. “He was preparing for the Melbourne Cup in just a few weeks’ time and I was preparing for Marquez – two guys at the very top of their respective careers, but I knew he was struggling.
“I obviously had a decision to make after that – do I stay in camp preparing for the biggest fight of my life or do I return home to Australia to grieve? In hindsight, I may have chosen differently, but I knew what Stathi would have wanted me to do and that was to continue in camp.
In a statement at the time, Katsidis wrote: “I have lost my closest friend, my inspiration in life, my one and only brother. This is something I could never imagine, but for some reason I feel his life is not a loss. My brother is me! We live our lives through each other. We dedicate our triumphs to one another and share the challenges we face in life. The fight will go on!”
Marquez arrived in Las Vegas with a 51–5–1, 37 KOs, record and put his lineal lightweight title on the line against the 27-2, 22 KOs challenger, and the contest didn’t disappoint.
“I had him hurt,” recalls Katsidis. “I’m one of the only fighters that has put Marquez on his bum [via a third-round knockdown] and it still haunts me that I wasn’t able to complete the job. I was known for my finishing and being totally ruthless – but I wasn’t able to execute at that moment. Was I thinking of my brother too much? Maybe.
“Marquez stopped me in the ninth round and my career went downhill from that moment. I lost three of my next four fights and I was never too far from retirement.”
Before this pivotal fight in his career, Katsidis was a rough, tough, fan-friendly fighter who drew comparisons to some of the bravest and most entertaining fighters of their generation – namely the late Arturo Gatti.
As WBO Interim lightweight champion, he ran to 23-0, 20 KOs before suffering the first defeat of his career [l tko 10 vs Joel Casamayor] one of the two times he challenged for the lineal title at lightweight.
Katsidis’ 2-2 record in the United Kingdom started with wins over Graham Earl (w tko 5), winning that WBO belt at 135lbs, and this momentum continued in stopping Kevin Mitchell (w tko 3) in front of the West Ham fans’ home crowd inside Upton Park.
Losses post-Marquez came in 2011 against Ricky Burns (l pts 12) – where Katsidis admits to being “so pissed” before boarding his flight to London that he missed his original booking – and to Tommy Coyle (l tko 2), but this didn’t distort the positive view that the Australian had of fighting in Blighty.
“I think the British fans have always respected fighters like me – warriors,” he continued. “They cheer every punch and really back their man. It was like going into the lion’s den against Mitchell, especially, but I was able to use that energy to my advantage. I like to think that I made more fans that night than I lost.”
Katsidis still struggles day-to-day, but finds solace in his work in the community to inspire the next generation. This new venture was propelled by a chance meeting inside prison which he describes as the “lightbulb moment” so many inmates crave.
“I was on the sewing machine – one of the jobs that is given out in prison – and this English guy walked over to me. He was one of the screws, a big lad, and had these piercing blue eyes. He looked over me and said, ‘You don’t remember me, do you’? I hadn’t a clue, but it turned out we had met in Mandalay Bay before a Ricky Hatton fight and apparently we got on.
“Anyway, I asked him if he would write me a character reference. He left me and, a short while after, returned with my Wikipedia page all printed out. ‘Here’s your character reference, mate – don’t forget who you f***ing are,’ he said. I had goosebumps at that moment. It felt like we were meant to meet that day, and him reminding me of all I had achieved was exactly what I needed in that moment.”
Katsidis now co-runs Bulletproof Mindset Academy in Brisbane, Australia – aiming to help the next generation build resilience in preparation for what life can throw their way.
“Everything happens for a reason,” he continued. “Maybe I was meant to go to prison and experience everything that I went through so that the kids of tomorrow have someone to look up to. They won’t listen to politicians, but they will listen to a fighter. I’ve finally owned my struggles and I’m playing my part in society now. I guess now I am fighting for the right reasons.”
