Anthony Joshua retains heavyweight boxing title

 Anthony Joshua retains heavyweight boxing title

In a matter of minutes the lights had gone out on Francis Ngannou of Cameroon and the world of heavyweight boxing once again acknowledged and then reminded us of the brilliance of Britain's most fearsome heavyweight boxer Anthony Joshua. Boxing had reached the desert dunes of Riyadh in Saudi Arabia and for a while we were rubbing our eyes with stunned bewilderment. This was probably the most improbable location for a boxing match of any description but then it hardly seemed to matter.

Amid a remarkably colourful backdrop of Arab sheikhs sitting almost dutifully in the front row, it almost felt as if TE Lawrence would have been welcomed as a special guest. This was not Lawrence of Arabia territory but in the fiercely competitive world of  pugilism this was as good as it gets. And yet the strange brevity of this contest meant this was all over before most of boxing's most discerning faithful had had time to take their seats.

Any kind of sporting mismatch is normally dismissed out of hand as some freak show, a farcical caricature of a boxing match where you can almost sense that something just isn't right. This was not entirely anybody's fault since the organisers and promoters of last night's battle royale must have known what they were getting into months before hand. But when Joshua skipped and bounced up and down into the ring last night the body language became patently obvious. The arrogance is perfectly understandable since Joshua could only have dealt with what had been placed in front of him. He knew he'd win easily and decisively and this became the easiest formality of them all. Just turn up and beat your opponent. Now.

Joshua's record is now well documented, a model of extraordinary muscularity, machismo, flashy postures and moves and well honed athleticism. There is a clear air of brazen triumphalism and effortless grace about Joshua that borders on balletic elegance. The shoulders look like boulders, the upper body chest and rib cage, a glowing tribute to hours, weeks and months spent sparring in the gym and incessant road running at the crack of dawn. The stomach resembles an ironing board, the legs and thighs like stone ridges and walls, bulging with energy and ruggedness.

But Joshua is beginning to knock on the door of potential all time greatness, an amalgam of ruthless punching power and earthy savagery reminding us of how lucky Britain is to have somebody like Joshua in its midst. Of course the ego is functioning with frightening efficiency because boxers love to think of themselves as the best in the business. There is though something hearteningly grounded about Joshua since he knows where he came from and he knew where he was going and would never be beaten by anybody.

Last night in Saudi Arabia witnessed Joshua at his most devastating, destructive, conclusive and concussive. From the moment he stepped into the ring you knew that he was just desperate for an early night and had no intention of being detained for any length of time. Besides there is the small matter of Tyson Fury to be addressed as quickly as possible if Joshua has anything to do with it. Boxing adores its cocky protagonists, those ridiculously over confident exhibitionists who dance around boxing rings as if they own them.

And then the bell rang for the first round. Repeatedly Joshua sent out ominous warnings about the distance this bout would take. In fact he must have set his very own stopwatch since Ngannou just toppled to the canvas like a precious porcelain vase that falls helplessly from a mantelpiece. Several times Joshua said good night to his opponent and it was the only intervention of a merciful referee in the second round that sent the Cameroonian off to sleep.

It did seem a shame that this contest was so grotesquely one sided because, to the impartial observer, it really does seem as if  Joshua is being confronted with a whole sequence of rag dolls. From the ring of the first round bell, Joshua went straight for his opponent's head and midriff, with tentative jabs and rights that left Ngannou gasping for breath. But then the rights to the Cameroonian's head just left him wobbling and precariously protected. Then the blows came raining in hard and fast, occasional upper cuts that left us wondering what on earth possessed the promoters to even contemplate matching up these two. By the second round it was all over. Joshua had won by a country mile emphatically.

During the first round Ngannou spent more time lying flat out on the canvas than he did upright. Joshua waded in with almost barbaric ferocity, a man now intent on finishing this one off in time for an early night. With wild, swinging arms and hostile blows that would have been the envy of the likes of Chris Eubank, Joshua was in mood to compromise, clubbing his short hooks painfully into his opponent's body and crashing in wonderfully accurate knock out punches with rapid intensity. Eubank knew a thing or two about lightning quick conclusions to fights and you suspect he might have been an exemplary role model to Joshua.

But now Joshua finds himself with the ultimate challenge of Tyson Fury. There has been unashamed, open malice and animosity between the two. Neither had made no secret of harbouring outright hatred. They will continue to throw verbal grenades at each other, taunting and chastising, threatening in no uncertain terms to administer the lethal knock out punch in no time at all. 

Modern day boxing of course is still the box office commodity it's always been. The legendary Muhammad Ali, George Foreman, Rocky Marciano and Joe Frazer always lent the sport a unique place in the sporting pantheon. But then again we always knew it would. Of course there is a gruesome fascination about watching one man or woman trying desperately to send either into an Accident and Emergency hospital ward. And that's when the health and safety objections grow louder by the week.

At some point Joshua will find himself in the privileged position of being possibly the greatest British boxer of all time. Henry Cooper always fancied he'd be the one to be anointed with heavyweight belts. Then there was Joe Bugner who everybody seriously underestimated and laughed at because he may have been wasting his time. In more recent times the admirably lovable and engaging Frank Bruno had all the physical resources before somebody called Mike Tyson squared up to Tyson and that signalled the end of Bruno's career. But then Britain now has another splendidly ambitious fighter by the name of Anthony Joshua and the future of British boxing remains in safe and capable hands.