Letters From Inside: Jarrell Miller’s Time In Boxing Jail

You do the crime, you do the time. That’s the law of personal accountability on the streets, and in boxing, it’s no different. Ok, it’s somewhat different. You piss hot, you miss your shot. Or something. 

This is the situation that Brooklyn based heavyweight Jarrell “Big Baby” Miller (23-0-1, 20 KO) found himself in April of 2019 when three(!) failed drug tests cost him a fight with UK superstar Anthony Joshua and in turn bought Andy Ruiz Jr. a fucking Scarface mansion. 

If you’ve been around since the dawn of the steroid era, you know that there’s nothing boxing takes more seriously than PED use. This sport simply will not allow one of its participants, regardless of their level of fame, to escape the full weight of punishment for attempting to gain an upper hand with performance-enhancing drugs. Promoters, networks, and commissions are far too proud to cheat their consumers in this manner.

And so, the punishments for riding dirty come harsh and swift in a sport known for its no-nonsense approach to discipline. Offenders who attempt to rob this most dignified sport of its long history of nobility may find the sentences doled out to be too harsh. This may be true, but as the current, almost entirely drug-free state of our sport will attest, this severe method of deterrence appears to be working. 

Miller himself was sentenced to six months of incarceration in a maximum-security boxing jail in his home state of New York. After reaching out to his promoter and being instructed into which of our existing holes we should insert Miller’s penis, The Queensbury Rules was granted exclusive access to Big Baby’s prison diary. 

“It is my sincere hope that telling my story and revealing the harrowing details of boxing jail will deter future fighters from getting caught, er, I mean, using drugs in the future,” Miller told us upon submitting his (barely legible) journals.

Below is a first-hand account of life inside a Level Three Federal Boxing Jail from an inmate who lived it.


DAY 1: 9:45 a.m.

“Well, here I am. I never thought in a million years I would end up in a place like this. I know I’ve made some bad decisions in my life. I mean yeah, I know that eating forty York Peppermint Patties every morning doesn’t count as brushing your teeth and that you should drink eight cups of water a day, not gravy, but man, this is bad. I guess I just gotta keep my head down and do my time like a man. It’s like my daddy once said to me, ‘Hold my corndog, son. I gotta go take a shit.’ That was the last time I ever saw him. Damn, man. Damn…”

DAY 6: 5:30 a.m.

“I couldn’t sleep too good last night. Today I have a boxing jail mandated group therapy session I have to do and I’m really nervous about it. It’s a non-profit initiative called Prisoner Organized Discourse on Compassion And Sympathy Techniques or PODCAST for short. Apparently I’m required to sit in an air-conditioned studio and not really own up to anything I’ve done while drinking coconut waters with a couple other millennial nobodies who have been ostracized from the boxing community for being complete and total dipshits. Boxing jail is hell, man.”

Day 19: 3:35 p.m.

“Even though I’m in boxing jail and can’t legally fight in the ring, I still gotta stay in shape. I’ve heard some pretty scary stories about the workout room on the yard here though. They got a lot of nicknames for it but most people just call it by its proper one: Planet Fitness. There’s some scary shit that goes down here, man. Zumba, Pilates, Spin class, Cardio Hip Hop Groove… you name it. This is for the big dogs. Don’t wanna cause any trouble here. Just keep your Air Pods in, grab your chilled cucumber water and get your pump on.”

Day 29: 12:02 p.m.

“Boxing jail can be lonely but luckily my cellmate is pretty cool. I think they have a lisp of some kind though because they keep pronouncing it as ‘soulmates’ and insisting that I refer to her as ‘wife.’ Yeah we sleep in the same king-size bed and she brings me coffee in the morning and our love continues to flourish, just as it has every day since we met in high school, but this is the joint, man! YOU DO WHAT YOU GOTTA DO TO SURVIVE.”

Day 47: 8:00 a.m.

“Everything you’ve ever heard about the gangs in boxing jail is true. If you ain’t cliqued up, it’s nearly impossible to survive in here. I’ve done alright for myself so far but I’ve been getting a lot of heat from a Southern Cali gang called TMZ or something. They got a lot of the higher-profile inmates on their payroll and they offered me protection and the opportunity to downplay the severity of my crimes in the public eye by using their powerful influence over the Dumbfuck community, which as we know, practically runs boxing. All I have to do is draft up something called a ‘bomb ass tweet’ and agree to a sit down with their reps while drinking out of an oversized thermos.”

Day 71: 10:19 p.m.

“The hardest part about boxing jail is the boredom. Being isolated away from the gym and your fellow cheaters team members is tough. Passing the time can be a challenge and a man needs a release. I know I’m in here for abusing illegal substances but damn, I need to relieve the stress. One of the guys I met in the cafeteria who goes by the name ‘The Waiter’ gave me his recipe for some sick prison hooch. You take the juice from a freshly squeezed orange and mix it with something they call Dom Perignon and it makes what’s known in here as a ‘mimosa.’ The Waiter told me if I give him $9.50 from my bank he’ll give me as many as I want. Bottomless Mimosas, they call it. Ain’t that some shit? Surviving in boxing jail is all about the hustle, man.”

Day 114: 2:08 p.m.

“The food here is no joke, man. Because we don’t leave our cells too much they use a privately owned sustenance transportation service called Grubhub. The meals are oftentimes served late but it’s nice just to have someone to talk to when they arrive. This is prison though and we are being punished so the menu is limited to LITERALLY WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT. Like I said before, only the strong survive boxing jail.”

Day 155: 11:15 a.m.

“My sentence is up pretty soon and I’m gonna be getting outta here so today they had a guest speaker come talk to us about transitioning back into the workforce after serving time in boxing jail. He was an older guy who has a long history of allowing convicted cheaters like myself to work for the company he runs and many have even gone on to flourish, he told us. I think he might be a jokester or a bit of a comedian because his company is called To Prank Inc. His name was Bob Arum and he offered me a job in his organization when I get out of here! Like literally, the fucking day my sentence is up. Isn’t that great?!”

Day 160, Release Day: 6:59 a.m.

“Well, that’s it for me. I’m walking out of here. Some days I didn’t know if I would make it out alive. The time passed so slow it almost seems like everyone forgot about me and all the drugs I did to get myself in here. It’s almost like my team kept me out of the news so people wouldn’t remember anything about my scalding hot piss test fail. But I digress. It just feels so good to be reformed and rehabilitated. Everyone knows boxing and it’s strict reoffender policies won’t tolerate someone getting caught using drugs multiple times so you can rest assured that I’m a new man. I can’t wait to get out and hug my newborn twins, Tainted Meat and Masking Agent. Peace out, y’all.”

So there you have it. Hopefully, Jarrell Miller’s terrifying tale of life inside a maximum-security boxing prison will serve as a deterrent to future fighters. If you’re thinking of using performance-enhancing drugs in boxing, just know that you too will suffer zero fucking real-world consequences whatsoever and your actions will be rewarded with multiple lucrative contract offers.



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