Shields brings a 26-1 amateur record to London, with her only loss coming during the World Amateur Championships in China.
Photo by Paul DiSalvo
Through time, those experiences filled Shields with an uncontrollable temper. There wasn't a street fight she could avoid. It didn't matter if it was boys or girls going at it: Shields was habitually in the eye of the street storm.
"I was always mad; I thought I was invisible and that I didn't matter," recalled Shields tranquilly, looking down. "I used to shut off the world. I was a troubled kid. I was. I was bullied a lot when I was younger. I don't like to remember those times. I used to get called ugly because of my hair, my clothes, everything. I was lost, and I didn't think there was anyone out there who could help me."
Shields then began lashing out. She developed an attitude. She was tired of being pushed around and began pushing back. In fifth grade, a girl lied to Shields and she threw a chair at her. Another time she stood up for her brother, which got her into more trouble. But the worst was when she wound up in the back of a police car in sixth grade. Shields had shown up to school to defend her sister over a dispute with another girl, but because she was suspended, Shields was not permitted on school property.
"I was so young and naive that I was laughing. I remember sitting in the back of the police car laughing. It wasn't cool, but I didn't care," Shields recalled. "I look back at those times and the only thing I worried about is what my granny thought. When I would get angry, she'd tell me to go outside and sit on the porch. But the time they took me in the police car, facing my granny in the police station, that's when it stopped. It kind of hit me."
It's also when boxing converged and became more important. Reluctant at first, Crutchfield took Shields in and began having her spar against boys her age. Most of the time, she held her own. Crutchfield was determined to treat her no different than any of his other fighters — and Shields didn't want any special treatment because of her gender.
Shields has learned how to quell her anger in situationswhere she is agitated, and it has paid off.
Photo by Paul DiSalvo
Turns out, Crutchfield's job was just beginning. He recognized the fury boiling within Shields. It was up to him to channel it, steer it into a positive direction. There were many times he had to check her tantrums.
"Claressa had to get that under control. All of that crazy stuff wasn't going to work in the ring and work long-term if she was going to make it in boxing," Crutchfield said. "It took some time to shape that demeanor. She walked around with a little chip on her shoulder. Well, it was actually a big chip. I would say it took her three years to calm her down."
Her acting out took on the same theme every time.
"Something would bother her, sometimes something small," Crutchfield said. "But she would go crazy and holler and scream and raise her voice at me. I'd correct her and tell her she shouldn't talk to me or anyone else like that. Then she would go away, get herself together, calm down, come back and apologize. Oh yeah, you can say there was a lot of tough love going on and that's what she needed. She needed a little direction and a little tough love. I did a lot of both."
Around 15, changes began to surface. Shields went from the quiet, remote girl to someone who socialized with everyone in school. She no longer sits in the back of the class, but in the front. Her circle of friends has grown considerably at Northwestern — engaging everyone she crosses in the halls. She plans on playing for Northwestern's basketball and volleyball teams her senior year, of course, shaped around her boxing schedule.
She doesn't flip out over trivial things. Actually, she doesn't flip out at all. She's dealt with problems in a comfortable, mature manner.
She began believing in herself, because her adopted boxing family began believing in her. That injection of faith helped adopt more faith.
To see Shields today, and hear her sordid backstory, it's hard to imagine this affable, happy girl was once the same girl who sat giggling in a police car. She's a leader now. When she's running laps in the back of Berston, she's frequently followed by all the younger fighters in the gym — kind of like a momma hen.
Crutchfield doesn't have to remind her to run laps: She does them on her own. She has a tremendous, nonstop work ethic. Before leaving for London, she sparred with men in their early 20s at Berston, and was exceptional.
