There’s a strange double standard in how we treat the Fury brothers. Tyson Fury is held as a paragon of mental health awareness: a larger than life reminder that we should always be mindful of how we treat people, especially those in the public eye. We never know what’s going on behind closed doors, or, more importantly, between the ears. Tommy Fury, on the other hand, doesn’t receive the same deference. Spend some time flicking through the comments section of his Instagram if you’re after a low-light reel of how awful people can be to complete strangers.
We’ve made it socially acceptable, even celebrated, to bash reality TV stars. Despite multiple suicides related to the show, it really does feel like it’s free game to rip into anyone who’s appeared on Love Island.
In my brief encounter with him, Tommy Fury comes across as every bit as likeable, jovial and salt of the earth as his big brother. By his own admission he’ll never be on Tyson’s level as a fighter, but that’s not really saying much when you’re talking about a generational talent like Fury. But this seems like a flimsy reason to give one brother the basic level of human decency they deserve, while declaring open season on the other.
Tommy’s very clear, he’s not looking for sympathy, he comes from humble beginnings and he is acutely aware of how lucky he is. To me he is just a young man struggling with the same identity issues that the rest of us wrestle with when we hit a rough patch in our lives, except he’s doing it under a microscope.
We sat down to talk identity, purpose, training, alcohol, fatherhood – and how he only packed four t-shirts for Love Island because he didn’t think he’d be there long.
Men’s Health: You’re a cruiserweight boxer. Ten fights, ten wins, four knockouts. But you’re also a very well-known star outside of boxing. Wikipedia tells me you are a ‘reality TV personality’. Social media seems to love arguing over which one you are primarily. How do you define yourself?
Tommy Fury: I define myself by how I’ve lived all my life. There’s never been a week that’s passed where I haven’t fought or trained with my dad. I started at six, hitting his hands and I’ve been in the gym since. I’m a fighter through and through. I’ve done Love Island, but one show does not define me, just as one fight doesn’t define a person. Someone can’t say they’re a fighter after having one fight. They’ve got to live it. And that’s what I’ve done for the past 25 years.
MH: How do you handle the criticism you face in that regard?
TF: I have to try and ignore it. At the end of the day, ever since I can remember, there’s always been criticism. Even when I was a kid, 12 or 13 sparring in the gym, everyone used to come over and say, ‘Oh, it’s Tyson’s brother sparring now let’s have a look, see if he’s any good!’, ‘He doesn’t move like Tyson!’ or ‘He is not as good as Tyson!’
I’ve said this from my first press conference, I’m not trying to be Tyson. There’ll never be another Tyson. I’m just trying to do the best for myself that I can.
Tyson was a world champion when I was a young lad, so there’s always a lot of media attention. I was fighting in front of much larger crowds than other people would do on their first fight. Pressure is something I’ve had to live with. I don’t think that’s something that will ever go away.
MH: What impact do you think appearing on Love Island had on your reputation as a professional boxer?
TF: People in the industry and fellow boxers felt like I wasn’t as hungry anymore, wasn’t as dedicated.
I didn’t do Love Island to get away from what I was doing. I wasn’t in an unhappy job that I hated and wanted a way out of. I absolutely love my job. I wake up every single day and I love that I’m a fighter and I’m a boxer. It’s a privilege. I did Love Island purely because my next fight had been cancelled. I took the opportunity because I’d been training a lot and I wanted a holiday. I packed four tops, four pairs of shorts and one pair of shoes because I thought I was going to be there for a very short period of time. I thought I’d go there for a week or so, put my feet up, have a nice bit of sun-bathing, [then] get back in the gym and crack on with my next fight.
MH: Do you think many 19-year-old lads would say no to that opportunity?
TF: This is the thing. It’s like that even today. So many people go, ‘Why are you fighting them YouTubers?’, ‘Why are you doing this?’, ‘Why are you doing that?’. If you were in my position, you would not turn it down. It’s the same with Love Island. I’m just trying to better myself and my career and secure my future in everything that I do. Why hate on another man for that?
MH: Tell me about your physical journey. You come from, I think it’s fair to say, a fairly good pedigree of fighters. Were you always physically capable, fit, strong? Did it come naturally to you?
TF: No, it definitely didn’t come naturally to me. I’m still not the greatest boxer out there. I had to work very, very hard. Because I lacked in talent, maybe I had to work extra hard. I had to get up at four o’clock in the morning and start running. I’d get four buses in a day then walk three miles to the gym. I’ve had to take the knocks in sparring against much better people. I’ve sat in A&E by myself overnight because my jaw was killing me and I couldn’t eat. I’ve had all that. I’ve not just walked into boxing because my older brother’s very successful.
MH: What does a day of training look like for you at the moment?
TF: At the moment, training’s pretty hectic. I’ve had such a long layoff. I’m trying to get as fit as I can, as strong as I can. So right now I’m basically doing everything I can. I’m running, I’m swimming, I’m doing weights, I’m boxing, I’m doing circuits – whatever I can get my hands on. I’m eating the right foods and drinking the right drinks and getting the right sleep. Everything’s dialled in at the minute.
MH: Going back a few years, your career was flying and even some of the most ardent internet critics were coming around to the idea of Tommy Fury as an athlete first. Then you got injured. Talk to me about how that affected you.
TF: I snapped all the ligaments in my hand and I had to have reconstructive surgery. I was fighting for the next three years effectively with a broken knuckle in the middle. I used to put cortisone in there to numb my hand to get through training, to get through the fights. It was tough, but I just couldn’t afford the time out. I didn’t want to sit out for a year. I got to a point in the last fight where I couldn’t carry on anymore and I had to get the surgery. They told me it would be 10 months off at least.
2023 was the best year that I’ve ever had. I won two multimillion pound fights. I got engaged, I had a beautiful baby daughter, the lot. And then, all of a sudden, I was in a hospital bed being told that boxing might not be a thing for me anymore. Going from that [high] to that [low] – lying on the hospital bed knowing that I couldn’t fight, couldn’t train, couldn’t lift weights, couldn’t do any of that – [meant] my mental health was in the pan. Really bad.
I tried doing three-mile walks and stuff, but when you train as intensely as I do, it’s just not the same feeling. And I thought, what can I do now? I couldn’t even shower properly, couldn’t even wash myself.
Watch the full interview on the Men’s Health Podcast, or listen via podcast platforms
MH: A large part of who you are is tied up in boxing, in what you can do physically. Did you feel like you’d suddenly had a big part of your identity snatched away from you?
TF: Oh, it was gone. I prided myself on being an athlete, being in shape and training and doing all this sort of stuff. But it was gone. Then the diet goes out the window, you start gaining more weight, you look in the mirror, you’re not how you used to look. I thought, well what can I do? I can sit at a table and have a drink. I can do that. I’ve got one hand for that.
I’ve only lived for training and my family, and that was all snatched away from me. So what I did for fun is I started to drink quite a lot. I found that’s what made me feel better. When I didn’t drink, I’d just look at my hand and think, I might never be able to box again.
I just wanted to feel somewhat happy. I’d go out and just drink and drink and drink. It went on that way for a long time. I said no to a lot of work because I wasn’t in the right headspace and started drinking more heavily, that’s what really got a grip on me.
MH: Were you trying to replace something that you previously got from training and boxing?
TF: I wanted the endorphins that I’d get when I’d finish a good session, when I’d finish sparring, when I’d finish fighting. But I just couldn’t get them. A few months prior to that, I was walking out in front of 30,000 people screaming, winning fights. So to go from that to sitting in a bed all day and watching TV, that’s hard to do.
It’s not like I’d get up in the morning and start drinking, but rather than sit in bed all day and fester, I’d think, why not go out? Where I’d normally be in camp, I’d just be smashing Guinness left, right and centre, then later on in the night shots would come out. Most nights I would to drink to get black-out drunk. I think that’s what really took its toll on me.
But being a father, I didn’t care how bad I felt in the morning or how rough I was, I’d be up at quarter past seven, waking the baby up, giving her a breakfast, making her breakfast, taking her to soft play, taking her to swimming, taking her to baby ballet. It was still very important for me while I was going through this stage to be like, okay, I want everything to be the same in her life. I was big on keeping her routine the same. That’s why nobody really clocked on, because during the day the normality was still there.
The circumstances were very tough, but I don’t feel sorry for myself anymore. There are millions of people going through it and some are a lot worse off. So it’s like, what am I crying about? That’s what I’ve really been thinking about. My circumstances are not even worth talking about compared to some.
MH: Interestingly, Tyson is very well known as a mental health advocate and he talks about these things openly. But while we always say we should be mindful of people’s mental states – we don’t always know what’s going on in people’s lives – do you feel like this courtesy isn’t extended to you because you’ve been on a reality TV show?
TF: It does feel like those rules don’t apply me. With my breakup with Molly, there’s been so much shit in the papers every single day for the past six months, but if it’s not come from my mouth or Molly’s mouth, it’s complete and utter bullshit.
All I’ve been seeing for the past six months is ‘Cheater!’, ‘He slept with me!’, ‘He slept with this girl, he slept with that girl!’ Complete and utter bollocks. We broke up because I had a problem with alcohol and I couldn’t be the partner that I wanted to be anymore. It kills me to say it, but I couldn’t. I loved a pint of beer, loved to drink.
People go through different things in life. I’m 25 years old. I went through a lot and my breakup was in front of the whole world. It was talked about on Good Morning Britain and I’ve received so much hate for it. The most upsetting thing is that not once did anyone say, ‘Oh, he might be going through something a bit more serious. He might be in a bad spot.’ Not one person said that.
Cheating was never a thing. You can ask Molly this yourself. It was the drink, and the drink is not a good thing. You need to get a grip of it. If you’re in the same spot as me, where you just think that it’s going to cure all your problems, it doesn’t. You wake up even worse and you want to drink more to try and feel happy again. That’s the cycle of it.
I’ve got myself out of that now, but I just wish people would’ve taken some time out, rather than giving me so much shit every day, to think maybe there was more going on. Not once did anyone ask how I was. I checked my inbox. Millions of messages in there, all negative: ‘Do this…’ or ‘Do that…’ to yourself, but not once did anyone take any time out to try and help me.
I’m not looking for sympathy. Whether I do the right thing or do the wrong thing, people are still going to hate me. As long as my family loves me. I just want to do my fights, earn my money, and look after my daughter.
I’m going to get back in the ring real soon and I’m going to pick up where I left off. I’m ready to do that now. I’ve wasted a year already in my life and I’m ready to pick back up and have a great 2025.
MH: 2025, year of perspective.
TF: 2025. Positivity breeds positivity.
Listen to the full interview on the Men’s Health podcast via Spotify or Apple Podcasts, or watch on YouTube.
