Paul Williams: The fighter within
Joseph Santoliquito
January 21, 2015
Photo by Todd Bennett
THE FORMER MIDDLEWEIGHT TITLEHOLDER HAS ENDURED MANY DARK MOMENTS SINCE HE WAS PARALYZED IN A MOTORCYCLE ACCIDENT BUT HAS BUILT A NEW LIFE AND DREAMS BIG
Megafight weekends in Las Vegas are ideal for the want-to-be-seen crowd. Floyd Mayweather Jr.-Marcos Maidana I was no different. It attracted the movie stars, who smiled, waved and settled into seats near the ring. Popular old fighters came in, providing nostalgic moments. Faux celebrities loitered about, looking for face time in front of anyone aiming a phone. They all wanted to be noticed.
Except for Paul Williams.
Cooped up in a cramped, dim hotel room, too self-conscious to be wrenched away, Williams sat with his chin on his chest glaring out at the riot of Las Vegas lights splayed before him. He didn’t want any part of the hustle and bustle going on below. Peering down was fine. If it were up to him, though, he would’ve snapped his fingers and vanished rather than endure those stares of pity as he wheeled through the horde in the MGM Grand Casino lobby last May.
The former WBO welterweight world champ refused to go anywhere unless he was summoned for an obligatory appearance. One was the Mayweather-Maidana weigh-in at the MGM Grand Arena. If he hadn’t been in Vegas to be honored that weekend by the Boxing Writers Association of America with the “Bill Crawford Award for Courage in Overcoming Adversity,” Williams would have been home in Aiken, South Carolina.
That outlook changed. Quickly.
Uneasy, Williams gripped the rubber wheels of his wheelchair to ease the tension. His insides churning with anxiety, he put on that everything-is-all-right face as soon as the ping sounded with the opening of the elevator doors. He could never have imagined what he would encounter next.
What normally would have taken 20 minutes, going back and forth from the arena to Williams’ room, took hours. Flanked by his manager, Corey Robinson, and his wife, Shuchinda “Chinda” Williams, “The Punisher” signed everything put in front of him and hammed it up for the cameras. He and the dozens of well-wishers were all grins as they descended upon him. One was so enthralled to see Williams that he lifted his shirt and asked him to sign his stomach.
But it wasn’t until Williams arrived back in his room that he realized what had happened.
He rolled in, took a contemplative moment, then twirled around in his wheelchair to face Robinson and Chinda and said, “You know, I thought they forgot about me.”
Robinson asked, “Who, Paul?”
“Everyone in the fight game; the fans, the fighters. I thought they forgot me,” Williams responded.
Robinson froze. Tears rolled down his face.
The moment transformed The Punisher. He mattered. For however brief a moment in time it was, he was whole again. They didn’t forget.
“I couldn’t say anything after that,” Robinson recalled. “I’m emotional. His wife is in tears too. Paul had been so uncomfortable about being in the wheelchair that whole weekend and, after that, he wanted to go out everywhere – ‘Let’s go back out to the casino. Let’s go out on the strip,’ he told me. Paul wanted to reconnect with his fans.”
He wanted to reconnect with the world.
Williams felt he had lost his identity overnight after he was paralyzed in a motorcycle accident on the morning of May 27, 2012, in Atlanta. He was a world champion fighting on TV one moment, having people butt in front of him in restaurants because they didn’t see him the next.
But a story that has been seen as tragic by those familiar with Williams and the fire he brought into the ring every time he fought isn’t over. Williams is intent on defying the odds to claim one more victory: He wants to walk again.
Williams, 33, looks like he always did – lanky, but strong. In fact, if not for the wheelchair, he appears to be in fighting shape. And, in a way, he has to be. There’s an internal battle raging, one between “The Punisher,” the 6-foot-1 warrior who had no problem taking a punch to deliver one, and “Wheelchair Paul,” who occasionally feels sorry for himself and struggles to cope.
News of Williams’ accident sent ripples of shock across every tier of the boxing community. He was home that last weekend in May to celebrate his brother’s wedding, taking a break from training for the biggest fight of his life against Canelo Alvarez in September. Then everything changed.
Joseph Santoliquito
January 21, 2015

Photo by Todd Bennett
THE FORMER MIDDLEWEIGHT TITLEHOLDER HAS ENDURED MANY DARK MOMENTS SINCE HE WAS PARALYZED IN A MOTORCYCLE ACCIDENT BUT HAS BUILT A NEW LIFE AND DREAMS BIG
Megafight weekends in Las Vegas are ideal for the want-to-be-seen crowd. Floyd Mayweather Jr.-Marcos Maidana I was no different. It attracted the movie stars, who smiled, waved and settled into seats near the ring. Popular old fighters came in, providing nostalgic moments. Faux celebrities loitered about, looking for face time in front of anyone aiming a phone. They all wanted to be noticed.
Except for Paul Williams.
Cooped up in a cramped, dim hotel room, too self-conscious to be wrenched away, Williams sat with his chin on his chest glaring out at the riot of Las Vegas lights splayed before him. He didn’t want any part of the hustle and bustle going on below. Peering down was fine. If it were up to him, though, he would’ve snapped his fingers and vanished rather than endure those stares of pity as he wheeled through the horde in the MGM Grand Casino lobby last May.
The former WBO welterweight world champ refused to go anywhere unless he was summoned for an obligatory appearance. One was the Mayweather-Maidana weigh-in at the MGM Grand Arena. If he hadn’t been in Vegas to be honored that weekend by the Boxing Writers Association of America with the “Bill Crawford Award for Courage in Overcoming Adversity,” Williams would have been home in Aiken, South Carolina.
That outlook changed. Quickly.
Uneasy, Williams gripped the rubber wheels of his wheelchair to ease the tension. His insides churning with anxiety, he put on that everything-is-all-right face as soon as the ping sounded with the opening of the elevator doors. He could never have imagined what he would encounter next.
What normally would have taken 20 minutes, going back and forth from the arena to Williams’ room, took hours. Flanked by his manager, Corey Robinson, and his wife, Shuchinda “Chinda” Williams, “The Punisher” signed everything put in front of him and hammed it up for the cameras. He and the dozens of well-wishers were all grins as they descended upon him. One was so enthralled to see Williams that he lifted his shirt and asked him to sign his stomach.
But it wasn’t until Williams arrived back in his room that he realized what had happened.
He rolled in, took a contemplative moment, then twirled around in his wheelchair to face Robinson and Chinda and said, “You know, I thought they forgot about me.”
Robinson asked, “Who, Paul?”
“Everyone in the fight game; the fans, the fighters. I thought they forgot me,” Williams responded.
Robinson froze. Tears rolled down his face.
The moment transformed The Punisher. He mattered. For however brief a moment in time it was, he was whole again. They didn’t forget.
“I couldn’t say anything after that,” Robinson recalled. “I’m emotional. His wife is in tears too. Paul had been so uncomfortable about being in the wheelchair that whole weekend and, after that, he wanted to go out everywhere – ‘Let’s go back out to the casino. Let’s go out on the strip,’ he told me. Paul wanted to reconnect with his fans.”
He wanted to reconnect with the world.
Williams felt he had lost his identity overnight after he was paralyzed in a motorcycle accident on the morning of May 27, 2012, in Atlanta. He was a world champion fighting on TV one moment, having people butt in front of him in restaurants because they didn’t see him the next.
But a story that has been seen as tragic by those familiar with Williams and the fire he brought into the ring every time he fought isn’t over. Williams is intent on defying the odds to claim one more victory: He wants to walk again.
Williams, 33, looks like he always did – lanky, but strong. In fact, if not for the wheelchair, he appears to be in fighting shape. And, in a way, he has to be. There’s an internal battle raging, one between “The Punisher,” the 6-foot-1 warrior who had no problem taking a punch to deliver one, and “Wheelchair Paul,” who occasionally feels sorry for himself and struggles to cope.
News of Williams’ accident sent ripples of shock across every tier of the boxing community. He was home that last weekend in May to celebrate his brother’s wedding, taking a break from training for the biggest fight of his life against Canelo Alvarez in September. Then everything changed.