The Man Who Predicts Punches: Fukuda Naoki / Boxing Photographer

"Direct Talk"

Our guest today is boxing photographer Fukuda Naoki.

His lens captures vivid images of sweat and blood,

as well as muscles distorted by the force of a blow.

The energy of the ring is palpable.

A prestigious U.S. boxing magazine dubbed him

the "undisputed champion" in a special feature,

and he's got the record and skills to back it up.

Today we find out how he captures split-second moments,

and witness the razor-sharp focus that he brings to the ringside.

The man who predicts punches

There's no other sport where you're shooting the action so up-close.

There are times when you almost collide with the fighters,

and there's blood and sweat flying at you.

For me, behind the camera,

you feel like you're right in the middle of the action.

You get to witness and photograph this battle of life and death

from a position almost as close as the referee's.

It's a very rewarding job.

For about 15 years starting in 2001,

Fukuda was based in Las Vegas, the boxing capital of the world.

During that time, he shot roughly 400 fights a year around the globe.

When ringside, he zeroes in on the fighters' movements

in order to isolate the kind of moments that the naked eye and even video cannot.

The moment of impact,

when a punch lands true.

Fukuda's ability to consistently capture these blows has earned him a nickname:

"the man who predicts punches."

If you think a punch is coming and then release the shutter,

you'll miss it.

The punches these pros throw are incredibly fast.

If you fire when you see one coming, you'll end up capturing the moment after.

So you usually miss the impact.

I think a normal photographer

would look for when a fighter is about to throw a punch and then click the shutter.

But instead, I keep my eye on the opponent who's about to get punched.

I put myself in the eyes of the dominant fighter,

and see things from their perspective.

The instant the opponent lets their guard down,

I fire my camera as if I was throwing a punch.

This is a photo I took the other day of Murata and Golovkin

in what was called "the greatest title match in Japanese history."

Golovkin was on the offensive,

and he had Murata pinned against the ropes at one point.

But Murata held in there and then launched a counterattack,

landing a series of right hands.

This shot shows one of them.

Golovkin was now on the defensive,

so I was watching his movements from Murata's point of view

when I snapped this shot.

I took it as if I was fighting alongside him.

For me, taking a photo is the same as throwing a punch.

Fukuda's vivid images freeze-frame the ferocity and spectacle of boxing

with a stunning eye for composition.

His work has been featured on the cover of magazines

and other media published around the world.

In the U.S. boxing scene, his photos are dubbed "Naoki's shots."

A punch, from start to finish, isn't the same speed.

At the moment of impact, it slows down,

even though it looks as if the fist has punched through with the same speed.

So the arm slows down during impact,

and with a shutter speed of one-thousandth of a second,

you can freeze the action with no blurring.

To get the shot, you have to be able to anticipate the angle,

the kind of punch a fighter is likely to throw.

This is from a bout Inoue Naoya fought last year in Las Vegas.

He landed a really massive body blow.

Watching the fight,

I could tell from an early stage that Inoue was going for the body.

So my approach was to press the shutter whenever he was at an angle

or in a position to go for a body blow.

So getting this shot was quite satisfying.

Fukuda was born in Tokyo.

He first picked up a camera as a grade-schooler.

It was a hand-me-down from his grandfather, who was a camera enthusiast.

His passion for boxing grew out of a long friendship

that started in his teenage years.

Kagawa Teruyuki, one of Japan's leading actors,

and more recently, a kabuki actor.

As teenagers,

the two classmates spent countless hours talking about boxing.

We sat next to each other in seventh grade.

I'd go on and on about boxing, and Kagawa was up for it.

And now, we've been having conversations about boxing for more than 40 years.

He'd get his hands on boxing videos from overseas.

About once a month,

we'd have a little three-day, two-night "boxing video camp"

where we'd stay up and watch the same videos repeatedly.

Whenever there was a clean knockout, we'd rewatch the moment dozens of times,

more than 100 times - no joke, more than 100 times.

And we'd try to press the pause button for the video

to freeze the instant the punch landed.

We turned it into a kind of game.

Back then, there was a slight lag after you pushed the pause button.

So you had to press it a little early.

Maybe that taught me

about anticipating the knockout punch based on foot positioning and timing.

Maybe, in some way,

that experience helps me to take the photos I do now.

In 1988, Fukuda became a reporter for a boxing magazine.

It wasn't until his mid-30s that he shifted gears to photography.

He relocated to the U.S. in pursuit of that goal.

Las Vegas was the center of the boxing business,

and therefore the center of my universe.

So I uprooted my wife and daughter to move there.

But I didn't speak any English,

and I wasn't even sure if the language and the cultural vibe was right for me.

In any case, I wanted to give it a shot.

So I'd go and watch how the local boxing photographers worked.

Slowly, I began working as a photographer too,

combining what I'd learned and the boxing photos I'd seen up until that point.

But getting a ringside position is very tough.

They don't just give those to anybody.

At first, I had to take photos from the fourth floor,

where, no matter what type of lens you use, you can't get good shots.

I'd be up there all alone.

But I was in Las Vegas, a city that I loved,

and just having so much fun being there, where all the action was happening.

Even when I made mistakes or had bad days, it felt like I was making progress.

Fukuda was living his best life,

having fulfilled a long-held dream of becoming a photographer.

But then something happened that would change everything.

One day when my daughter was in middle school,

we were in the car stopped at a light

when a big truck, a drunk driver, slammed into us from behind.

The back seat, where my wife and daughter were sitting,

was completely crushed.

My wife was pushed into this pocket of space created in the crash

and got away with some bruises.

But my daughter was totally crushed, in a terrible state.

Emergency services got her out and took her to the hospital,

and she was put into the ICU for three days.

She was unconscious and in critical condition,

and at the time I was just in a terrible state of shock.

On the morning of the third day,

the doctor told us that if she didn't regain consciousness that day,

she might not make it.

But then she woke up a short while later.

I'd selfishly uprooted my family to the U.S. to follow my dreams.

And I was happy just being able to shoot fights,

regardless of my station.

But that experience was a wake-up call.

I had to really push myself as a photographer

and go as far as I could.

Seven years after moving to the U.S.,

Fukuda's skillful frames of decisive moments gradually came into the limelight.

He won the boxing world's most prestigious photo prize

an unprecedented four times.

It wasn't long before he had a reputation as a master lensman

among the boxing photography community.

Here's one of Fukuda's most iconic shots,

from a 2013 match that was billed "The One."

For me, this is the biggest photo of my career -

the most important, the most significant.

Often, when you're at an angle like this, you don't get the opponent's face in the shot,

but in this one,

the punch sent his face right toward my camera.

It turned out great.

It's a little different from the photos I usually go for,

where you really see the impact of the punch.

But it's a shot that tells a story.

So in that sense, I believe it's a completed work.

This ultimately made the cover of around six magazines in four countries.

When that match was over,

I got the sense I'd accomplished everything there was to be done in the U.S.

It felt like I'd experienced the biggest thrills that that world had to offer.

So I thought about it.

What if I went back to Japan,

and focused on capturing images of Japanese boxing

and showcasing those to the world?

That could be my next thing.

Fukuda returned to Japan in 2016.

Ever since, he's become a ringside fixture at Korakuen Hall,

the center of the Japanese boxing world.

He's photographing this day's main event.

A young Japanese boxer scores a dramatic knockout win

just 33 seconds into the first round.

Here it is.

The punch that ended the fight.

The finishing blow.

Another decisive moment, frozen in time -

Fukuda Naoki's signature style.

My goal was to become the official photographer of Japanese boxing,

an ambassador for the sport.

I wanted to showcase Japanese boxing to the world through my photos.

Fortunately for me, since I've returned,

Japanese boxing has really come into its own,

and it's produced some really strong fighters.

There's Murata, who faced off against Golovkin the other day.

And Inoue Naoya has received international acclaim.

My goal was for one of the photos to make the cover of "Ring" magazine

or "Boxing News" magazine.

I've had photos of overseas fighters featured before,

but this was the first time a Japanese fighter in a Japanese bout

was used as the cover.

So that was lucky.

It's about capturing the intensity in a way that you can't get with video.

A single frame that tells the entire story of the match,

or sums it up for someone who watched it.

My goal is always to get a shot

that captures something about the occasion that video cannot.

(Do you have any words to live by?)

"Constant dripping wears away the stone."

In other words,

even a small force has the potential to achieve results over time.

You have a number of fights going on every week,

and for me, focusing my camera on the match at hand

and taking it match by match is what leads to results.

That's how you gain the experience that allows you to get good shots

and to build a career.

So that's the approach I have taken,

and one that I will continue to take.