The incredible backstory of Joey Spencer, the ‘Small Town Soldier’ coming for Tim Tszyu

Tim Tszyu’s rival comes from an American town so small, there isn’t even a boxing gym.

Or much of anything else, really.

But space to hide a gun?

Yeah, you can still do that.

Tszyu vs Spencer | SUN 6 APRIL 11AM AEDT | Tim Tszyu makes his highly anticipated return to the ring as he looks to push himself back into world title contention against Joey Spencer.| Order Now with Main Event on Kayo Sports.

Although on the afternoon Joey Spencer had exactly that asked of him, and frantically — “brother, we have to hide this gun, we have to …” – the affable country boy was in fact further south, and just across the border, in the notoriously hilly backwoods of Ohio.

But more on the day Joey almost died soon enough.

First, the boxing gym missing from Linden, Michigan.

That wonderfully anonymous road map dot which, right now blanketed in snow, has only one bar, two stop lights, and little more than 4000 people.

So as for a place to train?

Growing up, Spencer would bash away on a heavy bag hanging in his parent’s basement.

Right alongside a pile of dad’s weathered gloves and focus mitts.

As far as facilities go, this was it.

Which is why from age eight, and on too many nights to count, Joey remembers jumping up and into the old man’s pick-up, as together – always together – they headed out to find that next town with its own emerging star.

“Then,” Spencer recounts, “the kid and I would spar”.

And for however long it took too, until Joey bested him.

Sometimes, it would happen that first night.

Yet on other occasions, and with older boys particularly, it could take the schoolboy weeks, even months, to win out.

“This was back when Joey was eight, maybe nine,” his father and head coach Jason explains.

“When every now and then, we’d find a kid in some town who could really get him.

“So we’d stay.

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“And would keep going back there, three, four times a week.

“Go back however long it took until we had him …”

And then?

“Then,” dad says simply, “we’d move on”.

Which is how they’re planning things this Sunday, too.

When these Spencer boys roll, once again, into that hometown of what is simply the latest hyped rival, and together – always together – look to instigate a beating nobody is predicting but them.

“But I’ve always known I’m different,” the 25-year-old fighter shrugs.

“I can feel it.

“And whenever I’m around other people, I can tell if they’re a real fighter too.”

Kicking back now at a table inside his fight week apartment, and rocking the same black team tracksuit as dad, sat across from him, Spencer is talking Fox Sports Australia through the end of Tim Tszyu’s career.

Which isn’t specifically what either man is calling it.

No, these boys from Smalltown USA are far too polite for that.

In fact, Spencer, the fighter, never even cussed the day a stranger almost shot him dead.

Which isn’t a story he’s ever told before.

“And not one I’m real sure about telling you now,” he says.

But how else do we properly explain this man dubbed ‘Small Town Soldier’?

A fighter who not only walks out to Hank Williams Jnr, or wears camouflage trunks, but has been known to spend up to 12 hours at a time in trees, waiting out those deer stacked three, sometimes four deep in his freezer.

Undeniably, Spencer is a hunter in every sense.

Doesn’t matter if it’s deer, turkey, even that kid three towns over – or now, Tszyu — if you want it, sweet, grab gloves, or a bow and go get it.

Which is exactly what this fella was doing when asked to hide a gun.

“Still, I’ve never told anyone this,” the fighter continues, smiling awkwardly while shifting his gaze up now and across the table to his old man.

“Just don’t use names,” dad shrugs.

And with that sorted, away we go …

“It was only a few years back,” Spencer recounts of what was a bow hunting trip in Ohio. “I’d got this deer, but with a shot that wasn’t immediately fatal; which you hate but sometimes it happens.”

Anyway, it was at this point where Spencer and his buddies call in the bloodhound belonging to a local tracker who, known by them for only a few hours, is along on the hunt, too.

Then together, away they go.

Trekking up hills, then down, through scrub, or woods, before eventually coming to a clearing where, laid out on the ground in front of them, a huge buck with oversized antlers looks seemingly finished.

So slowly, they move closer.

“When the buck,” Spencer recounts, a little animated now, “it jumps up, starts running straight towards me …”

Which is about when things get a little, err, crazy.

“Because our guy,” the fighter says, “the tracker, he takes out a pistol and starts shooting at the deer — right in my direction.

“All I can see is gunfire going off.

“I’ve got the buck coming plus four, five shots, six shots.

“Nobody in their right mind would do it …”

Of course, and as every fella worth his Browning trucker cap knows, hunting with guns is also highly illegal during the ‘rut’, or deer mating season.

“So then with the buck finally dead, the guy starts hootin’ and hollering,” Spencer continues. “Shouting ‘get to the truck boys, we’ve got to get rid of this gun …’.”

And your response?

“Yeah, I got to the truck,” he shrugs. “Because the dude, who was obviously off his rocker, still had the weapon.

“So that was where we parted ways, very politely.”

Which to be fair, is also how Spencer has treated every hiccup since arriving Down Under three weeks ago.

Doesn’t matter if it’s been judging dramas, schedule changes or even that wonderfully entertaining Friday press conference, Spencer has treated each with an underlying politeness belying the power in his hands.

Yet if kindness were a weakness, well, two international judges wouldn’t right now be in Newcastle at significant cost to No Limit.

Nor would Spencer have racked up nine US amateur titles.

Or since turning pro, gone 20 fights with only the sole loss against Jesus Ramos Jnr — who, coincidentally, now sits right behind Tszyu in The Ring super welterweight rankings.

Put simply, Spencer is a wonderful bloke who drops far more than deer.

Which is why No Limit CEO George Rose won’t talk with him.

“Because if Joey really is as nice as they say,” the promoter told us early this week, “I’ll start liking him.

“And I don’t want that …”

Wonderfully, it was a sentiment which remained unchanged even after Friday’s emotive Newcastle press conference, which saw Spencer exchanging with both Tszyu and Rose on stage over this week’s judging controversy.

Quizzed on the Spencer quotes, Rose laughed: “They were exactly the type of fight week tactics you’d expect from a nice guy.

“When you’re not rude, when you’re not a ruthless sledger or trash talker — and Joey Spencer isn’t — these are exactly the tactics you use.

“Create disharmony with a smile and good manners.

“He’s a good guy

“But I still want Tim Tszyu to annihilate the bloke … so I’m avoiding him at all costs.”

Probably best to steer clear of his entire team too then.

Understanding there is also no point in you knowing how Spencer’s parents, Jason and Amanda — who have been constants alongside their son this week — also adopted the fighter’s younger brother Kel aged two.

At the time, Jason Spencer was still working in real estate and sold a struggling single mother, fresh out of rehab, and with six children, a place for her family.

Then, and for no reason other than it being the right thing to do, he continued to regularly check in on them.

When asked by mum too, becoming particularly invested in mentoring the eldest teenage boy, who had himself battled drug addiction while being passed through foster homes.

“But unfortunately,” Jason recounts, “mum eventually relapsed.

“I actually arrived at the house one day to find the State had taken all the kids.”

Or all but one.

“Kel and his mum, they were out when the State arrived,” the trainer continues. “So she came and found me, asked me to take her baby.

“At the time, I was still in my twenties, and with two children of my own.

“So then bringing another little boy home to my wife, I was thinking she might just kick us both out.”

But this, remember, is the Spencers.

“So she took that baby from my arms,” Jason continues, “gave Kel a bath, and fell in love with him …”

And now together – always together — they’re all here.

With Kel, now 21, and himself an undefeated super lightweight prospect, having undertaken the role of sparring partner for his brother, alongside another fighter the family have brought Down Under, undefeated middleweight Justin ‘JJ’ Johnson.

Of course, Spencer, the headliner, is also travelling with wife Tabitha and their two young children — Kathy, 2, and James, 6 months – plus a small entourage including his corner, closest friends, and a Finnish CEO whose logging company, Ponsse, is splashed all over team kit as major sponsor.

Which sounds at least a little familiar to that fella across the ring, right?

And why now, we want to know exactly what Spencer — who talks of being different, of knowing it, and of being able to sense when others are like him — sees in Tszyu?

“Oh, I can definitely see it in Tim, too,” he says of what his father calls ‘the fire’.

“You only have to look at the way he responds to things …”

Specifically, Spencer continues, that most recent of losses to undefeated IBF champ Bakhram Murtazaliev, when Tszyu opened so wildly, so confidently, that he would eventually get dropped four times in three rounds before younger brother Nikita threw the towel.

All up, a performance the young Michigan native likens to his own sole loss against Ramos Jnr in 2023, when also heavily criticised for an over aggressive approach.

“Because sometimes with people like myself and Tim,” he shrugs, “we’ll make decisions that aren’t necessarily the smartest.

“And that’s something you really have to battle with.

“Knowing that thing you have inside, it can either be your greatest asset or cause you real trouble.

“In my loss against Ramos — he was the bigger guy, a pressure fighter, and I still went in there first round, jumped all over him and got dropped.

“Then after being dropped, I got up and straight away stood toe to toe again.

“Which is really similar to Tszyu (against Murtazaliev).

“Instead of listening to my corner, instead of moving, boxing, applying some of my advantages, I just kept thinking ‘OK, this guy dropped me, I’m not backing down’.

“It’s a mindset that can get you in trouble, if that fire is misplaced”.

At which point, listening in from across the table, dad interjects.

“But a fighter must still have that fire first,” he says. “And then you learn to control it.”

Which, undeniably, has been a major talking point this week, especially after Tszyu revealed he woke Monday morning and thought “f*** it, I want to do the same fire with fire this fight”.

A notion even his own promoter has branded “f***ing scary”.

But Spencer?

“I learned more from Ramos,” he insists, “than any of my other five fights combined”.

Which, again, is why this strong US prospect now plans to end Tszyu’s hype, future, paydays, all of it.

Just don’t ask him to say as much.

With Spencer happier instead to discuss, say, the intimacy of bow hunting, the morality of it – “there really is no more ethical way to eat meat” – or even that wonderful little girl now appearing from nowhere, all quizzical looks, at the end of our table.

“What are you doing daddy?” daughter Kathy asks.

“Just answering some questions,” the fighter replies, “about my boxing match”.

“Why?” she says, still not quite sure what all the fuss is about.

“Well,” he grins, “it’s just something people here in Australia want to know …”

Which seems as good a time as any to ask Spencer how all this works?

Not only the interfamily training, sparring, and now international hunting, but the incredible juggle that is, every day out here, switching between the roles of father, fighter, and Tszyu finisher.

“Because anything else,” he shrugs, “it just isn’t an option.

“From the moment my daughter was born, I realised that being away from family for any extended time, it can’t happen.

“So we have to make this work, it’s all there is to it.

“And sure, it does make things harder at times.

“But it also means I’m a father who puts his daughter to bed every night.

“Which at times too, can also be a bit like wrestling an alligator.

“But every night, it doesn’t matter if I’ve just sparred 12 rounds, if I’m weight cutting, whatever, I’m just somebody who needs to be there to put both of my kids to bed.

“So I am.”

Which, undeniably, is a story worth telling.

Although maybe not to George Rose.