Arthur Beterbiev is a man of contradictions. A boxer whose fists have never failed to finish a fight, knocking out all the opponents he faced, except, of course, Dmitry Bivol, but one does not enjoy the knockout game.
“I don't like hitting people,” he says, his quiet and contemplative voice during an exclusive interview with Mail Sport in Montreal, Canada. 'Although it is my job, I don't like it. My coach tells me, hit it tightly and I do it. But it's not me, it's he who asks me to do it.
For a man with a perfect record of 21-0, all but one who comes by knockout is a striking feeling. In a sport where you knocked out your opponent often it looks like the final measure of success, the Bederbiev approach is refreshingly human.
His words echo a belief that he has shared before: “I don't like them to call me a monster.” Last week, Bederbiev talked about his mother warmly, confessed to enjoying the full range of seasons in Canada, and revealed that he plays controllers to sharpen his mind.
However, despite this personality without pretensions, Bederbiev's fists have taken him to the pinnacle of his sport. He is the undisputed champion of semi -marked weight of the world. But it enters its gym, there is no low coup of a training reproduction list or the talk of a full training camp. Instead, there is silence.
Beterbiev trains without music, without distractions. The only sounds are the rhythmic blows of their fists in a heavy bag, the acute breaths of effort, the squeak of their shoes spinning.
Beterbiev is a man of contradictions. A boxer whose fists have never failed to finish a fight, knocking out all the opponents he faced, except Bivol, however, one does not enjoy the KO game
In a sport where to knock out your opponent often looks like the final measure of success, the Bederbiev approach is refreshingly human
It is an unusual view in the modern era of sport, where most athletes trust the rhythms to boost their intensity. But for Beterbiev, this silence is sacred. “I concentrate better in this way,” he says simply during our interview through Top range. “We are just me and work.”
Nor do you train with others. There are no stable colleagues to push it, there is no rotating cast of training partners, only him, his coach and the endless search for perfection. “I like this way,” he explains. 'Less distraction. More approach.
And while some combatants swore by recovery methods elaborated or avant -garde sports drinks, Bederbiev has its own secret weapon: what he calls 'Blessed Water'. A bottle is close, full of nothing more than Well from Canada.
No additives, without supplements, only clean water, without filter. He drinks him religiously, convinced of his benefits, although he does not go into details. “It's my secret weapon, I can't tell you all my secrets,” he says with a smile.
Beterbiev is not driven by the thirst for blood that many assume, nor by the fame that entails being an elite athlete. Rather, it is motivated by a relentless search for personal improvement.
“I am a perfectionist,” he admits shrugging. 'All my fights, even the 20 knockouts, I am not completely happy. I always think I can do better.
This explains his dissatisfaction with his last fight against Bivol. Despite the victory, despite the fact that most saw him as a brilliant performance, Bederbiev found defects, moments that could have done more, moments that could have been better.
Saturday's revenge will be Beterbiev's opportunity to prove it. While his opponents often end with their lights off, Beterbiev is more concerned with the nuances of his trade, perfecting his technique, improving his strategy and perfecting his game plan.
Beterbiev trains without music, without distractions. The only sounds are the rhythmic noise of their fists in a heavy bag, the acute breaths of effort, the squeak of their rotating shoes
“I think I am better than in the first fight,” he says with confidence, reflecting on knee surgery that reduced his preparation time. “We have done different things in the training I could not do at the time.”
It is this impulse to improve, even when everything around him shouts success, that distinguishes Beterbiev. “I always need to try something else, even for me.”
But the truth about Bederbiev's mentality is this: he did not begin to box due to a burning desire to be the hardest man in the room. He was not a life fan of sport, nor dreamed of championship belts when he was a child. His entrance to the boxing was molded by necessity, born of a desire to find an exit for energy in a world that offered some other options.
Born in 1985 in Khasavyurt, Dagestan, Beterbiev grew for a turbulent time. The collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 left the region, and its family. It was during this time that Beterbiev was attracted to the world of street struggle.
Unlike some of his companions, including Bivol, which had rules that govern their street fights, typically ending when blood or emotions were extracted, the experiences of Beterbiev were much more brutal.
His street encounters showed little mercy already often intensified rapidly into dangerous confrontations, transforming street struggle into a dangerous exit by their frustrations and accumulated aggression.
His older brother was the one who introduced him to sport, and when he was a teenager, it was an exit from the streets, far from the fighting and chaos that marked his early years.
“I grew up in a hard environment,” he recalls, “difficult times make strong people. Boxing, for me, it was a way to channel that energy. I have to thank my brother. My older brother took me to the gym and insisted in training harder and concentrating on that instead of the street fight.
Beterbiev, who begins to train praying, was first purchased at the gym for his brother
It was not easy. His father died when Beterbiev was young, and had to step forward like the man in the house. “It was a difficult time,” he admits, “but that difficulty made me who I am today.”
That impulse, instilled in him both by his mother and by his own inner strength, has driven him through each fight. When Beterbiev was offered a place at a sports university in Moscow, despite not wanting to leave home, it was his mother who encouraged him to leave. “She always pushed me,” he says. 'She helped me to become who I am.'
'If it weren't for my mother, I would have stopped boxing. Shortly after my father died, they invited me to the Olympic Reserve School. It was a dream and an opportunity once in a million, but I really didn't want to leave.
'If my father's death affected me like this, or it was something else. But the idea of leaving the house, leaving my mother, used to terrorize me. And I was willing to give up what, of course, would put a cross in my career.
'My mother knew how important boxing was, which could become my life and convinced me to go. You know how everything worked later. But I think who would have been if I refused to go to Moscow and it makes me think how lucky I have to have my mother.
Despite its success, Bederbiev remains a founded figure. He laughs easily, jokes with those around him and even finds time for ladies as a mental exercise. His approach to life and boxing is a reminder that champions are not only made in the ring, but are formed by their past, their relationships and mentality.
As the rematch with Bivol approaches, the story of Btererbiev remains a quiet force, a man who is not in it for glory or the knockouts but for the search for something greater. “I just want to do my job in the best way I can,” he says. 'That is what drives me.'
So, while the world can see Bederbiev as a knockout artist, what really feeds him is much more complex than the blows he offers in the ring. It is his search for perfection, his gratitude for the lessons that life has taught him, and his determination to be better than yesterday.
Artur Beterbiev will face Dmitry Bivol for the second time in Saudi Arabia on February 22, heading the last seasonal season Crescendo Riad. Interview by courtesy of Top Rank.