Jarrell Miller’s return fueled by a viral toupee

HIS HEAD TINGLES. He is hardly awake this morning, just five days prior to the most significant fight of his career, and his scalp feels as if it is being scorched. Thus, Jarrell “Big Baby” Miller raises his hand to investigate the situation.

He experiences an unusual feeling, as if his hair is sticky. He lowers his hand and is astonished by what he discovers: a clump of his hair. He reaches up once more. Another clump. Clump after clump of his hair has sizzled right off his head.

Miller, aged 37, is alarmed. He caused this himself. The seasoned heavyweight boxer had experimented the previous night with hair dye and filler, intending to cover a few sparse areas for his fight on Saturday. However, instead of filling in the gaps, he inadvertently scorched most of his hair. Unbeknownst to him at that moment, this will turn out to be one of the most regrettable and fortunate choices of his life.

It is February, and he finds himself alone in his hotel in New York City, just days away from a crucial heavyweight match against contender Kingsley Ibeh. Miller has spent 15 years lingering on the periphery of the lucrative title tier in the heavyweight division. His record stands at 27-1-2, with 22 knockouts, and he has spent over a decade pleading for the world to take notice of him.

This fight means everything to him. He has dedicated the last seven years to recovering from the most significant setback of his career, a failed PED test that caused a 2019 bout against Anthony Joshua to collapse and never materialize again. He fought hard to reach that fight, only for it to vanish, along with his status as a prominent heavyweight. There exists an alternate reality where he defeats Joshua — or loses but performs admirably — and his life takes a completely different trajectory.

Instead, he has spent years striving to regain relevance, grappling with financial issues, making a few poor choices, all in an effort to revive a career that could have been. He must defeat Ibeh, and with another solid win or two, perhaps — just perhaps — he can re-enter that conversation. Desperation is an understatement.

And now he is bald, too? Miller cannot believe it. He is a spontaneous, all-in type of person, for better or worse, and this hair mishap is not the first instance in his life where that has backfired. He concocted a mixture of various products, went to sleep, and awoke as a rapidly balding individual. He effectively burned off about 40% of his hair with his ill-fated Big Baby formula.

“I have a toupee guy,” Miller’s cousin informs him at the hotel.

Miller is not yet prepared to reveal the botched job on his head to the world. So, he shrugs and agrees to meet his cousin’s hairpiece specialist on Friday, the day before the fight. That day, Miller sits in a barber chair looking quite Kimbo Slice-like, with a large oval section of his hair shaved off to accommodate the toupee he is about to affix to his head. The remaining hair on the sides will provide support for the new style.

The toupee specialist, a local barber from New York City, works for about an hour. Miller can see the general shape of what he is doing from above. However, when the piece is revealed in all its splendor, Miller is genuinely impressed.

“It looks great,” Miller remarks. “But how will you ensure it stays on?”

“I’m going to glue it and tape it,” the barber replies. “I’ll provide double reinforcement. There’s no way it will move.”

No one notices the next day. For two intense rounds on Saturday, the toupee remains secure. However, Miller faces a more significant issue: he is losing the fight.

His career has already been marked by interruptions, and now, he is returning from an 18-month hiatus, and it is evident. He has always been an aggressive fighter, throwing and landing twice as many punches as his opponents for most of his career. Ibeh clearly wins the first round and is dominating the second when he lands a powerful uppercut beneath Miller’s chin.

Miller feels the impact. But he also senses something else: a rush of air.

HUMILITY IS A BEAUTIFUL CONCEPT. It represents the balancing of pride and ego, to the extent that we recognize we are sufficient — neither overly significant nor insignificant.

Yet, in reality, most of us slip on ice outside the grocery store and immediately contemplate leaving town. So, consider how it must feel to attempt to rebuild your career and have your toupee knocked off in front of 10,000 spectators, with millions more online relishing that humiliation indefinitely.

At the end of the second round, Miller feels the breeze on his scalp and then hears an odd murmur from the audience. At that moment, Miller is perplexed. It is a sound he has never encountered before. It is a large crowd of bewildered individuals making “Uh, is that what I think it is?” noises in unison.

In his corner, Miller tries to decipher the crowd’s response while also processing that this crucial moment in his fighting career is slipping away. Ibeh is doing just enough to fend off Miller’s relentless advance, and Miller can sense that his stamina is not what it typically is. He is rusty. He is becoming fatigued. And he is losing.

Miller receives instructions from his team just as the jumbotron replays the moment that astonished the audience. He glances up at the massive screen and realizes what the gasps are about. When he was struck by the uppercut, his toupee flew into the air before landing back on his head. Miller’s stomach sinks. He recognizes a viral moment when he sees one.

“You’re getting your ass whooped,” his cornerman tells him. “And you’re losing your hair.”

As the third round is about to commence, however, Miller is struck by another realization. He stands at the ropes and gazes out at the crowd, and many people are smiling. He has endured a challenging life, moving around as a child trying to find his place. Consequently, he has developed a broad grin and an even broader sense of humor. This includes the ability to laugh at himself when necessary, and right now, he requires it.

He raises his gloved hand and tugs at his toupee. Then Miller does what many of us might wish we could do when others are laughing at us — he embraces it. He laughs as well, sticking out his tongue while gripping his glove around the nest of hair on his head. He seizes the toupee, rips it off, and tosses it into the crowd, where it flutters away like a floppy frisbee.

“The moment I tore it off, I didn’t give a f— anymore,” he states. “I thought, ‘Let’s go fight and have fun, then we’ll go viral.’ I felt liberated.”

What lies beneath is a chaotic scene. Miller’s head is bloodied where the barber had glued and taped the hairpiece, and he ends up with a thin strip of hair along the edges of the top of his head, resembling a crop circle left by aliens.

The crowd erupts in cheers for Miller. He raises his hands in the air as the bell signals the start of the third round. A sense of freedom washes over him as he strides forward toward Ibeh. Just five minutes earlier, he had felt a breeze on his head. Now, he feels a different wind — at his back.

WHEN HE WAS A KID, Miller was jumped once — and only once. In that encounter, he despised how he could hold his own for brief moments before the number of kids surrounding him eventually overwhelmed him. He vowed to learn how to fight and to do so in a manner that would prevent him from being cornered. Always advance. Be a force. Throw so much that the opponent must endure.

His life story reflects the broader truth of what that philosophy has meant for him, as a kickboxer, boxer, and as an individual. His parents divorced when he was a toddler, leading to a tumultuous upbringing during which he moved around New York City and then spent a few years with relatives in British Columbia. His mother is from Belize and his father is Haitian, so he also spent time in both of those locations. He was perpetually the new kid at school, facing bullies who targeted the large boy who had just arrived. To this day, he is uncertain if he has ever resided in one place for five consecutive years.

Upon reaching adulthood, he embarked on a 15-year boxing career that is as rugged as he is. He faced ignored challenges from more prominent boxers. He earned approximately $10 million, but encountered ongoing promoter disputes, lawsuits, and bankruptcy. He struggled with weight issues, ballooning to as much as 375 pounds at one point. He failed a PED test due to what he claims was a bad combination of sexual enhancement pills. He was arrested for carjacking without a weapon (charges were later dismissed). And he dealt with one hairpiece disaster.

He has lived primarily in full-send mode, measuring once and cutting twice. That is a downside to humility — Miller is so laid-back about life that he can rebound from a poor decision or two without drowning in the consequences. He treats most of the blunders in his life like that toupee: He rips them off, tosses them into the crowd, and moves forward. They will not trap him, just like those kids from three decades ago.

“It is what it is,” Miller frequently states.

Thus, there is a sense of peace in losing his toupee that night at MSG. Miller begins to revert to his true self. He presses forward, targeting Ibeh’s body, delivering shot after shot. Miller is not a one-punch knockout type of fighter; he is relentless, wearing down his opponents with a continuous barrage of punches. Ibeh makes it to the final bell, but Miller secures a clear 10-round unanimous decision victory. After the match, bald Big Baby Miller has his hand raised, anticipating that he will be seen by more people than ever before.

He is correct, even if he underestimates the chaos he is about to experience. Over the following week, the clip is viewed by millions on social media, featured at the NAACP Image Awards, and earns him invitations to “The Breakfast Club,” “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” and numerous other platforms where he will have to repeat his new catchphrase on an endless loop.

“It doesn’t matter if you win by a hair — or a mile,” he states.

By mid-February, Miller is more famous than he has ever been, for a reason that no one would choose. He is back in Miami, where he spends most of the year. He regularly visits friends and family in Belize, and frequently travels to New York City to see his mother, as well as his 15-year-old son and 6-year-old daughter.

“I’m a household name right now,” he remarks. “I believe it’s because I laughed about the toupee. If I had been sitting there complaining about it, I don’t think people would have reacted the same way.

“I’m gonna ride that wave, baby.”

On this day, Miller begins light workouts at his upscale gym, BOXR. He parks his truck in a spot that isn’t really a spot, then enters the building. He is a large man but moves with the grace of someone much smaller, a quality he attributes at least in part to his recent involvement in the local salsa scene.

Inside the gym, he exudes a mayor-like presence, with nearly everyone who passes by greeting him with smiles. Many stare and offer positive remarks about the way his hair is growing back.

His hair is indeed looking good. His account of accidental chemical exposure sounded dubious as he recounted it on the late-night shows. However, he is being truthful: He is thinning a bit, but he is doing just fine on top. “I’m not bald,” he insists. “Seriously.”

Miami suits him well. He is a relaxed, warm individual, and time seems to be a flexible concept for him, much like it appears to be in this part of the country. Thus, a 9 p.m. dinner can mean any time with a 9 at the beginning. He enjoys the local cigar bars and can provide detailed scouting reports on the nearby gentlemen’s clubs. “That one has the best wings,” he mentions at one point.

He certainly benefits from having boundaries. His publicist, Alvina Alston, is the ultimate Big Baby wrangler, keeping him in check. Miller is one of those individuals who possesses enough self-awareness to recognize that he is a better version of himself when he has people willing to guide him. “I love Jarrell with all my heart because he is a wonderful man who deserves everything happening right now,” Alston states. “But I’m the one who has to crack the whip with him.”

For his upcoming fight against Lenier Pero (13-0) on April 25, Miller has re-engaged trainer Derek “Bozy” Ennis. Bozy, as he is affectionately known in boxing circles, is a 70-year-old Philadelphia-based trainer who stopped caring about others’ opinions of him decades ago. He appreciates Miller and believes he possesses the boxing skills to become a champion. However, he is not his friend. In fact, he was present at the MSG event in the audience when Miller lost his hair, shouting at him throughout the fight.

“You ain’t doing anything!” he kept yelling. “You look like doo-doo.”

Bozy later followed up with Miller: “When you train with me, you look great. When you train yourself, you don’t.” He refuses to sugarcoat things with Miller. He tells him the truth, whether he is on the payroll or not, and it reflects Miller’s humility that he does not shy away from constructive criticism. “Sometimes staying out of the way is the best thing to do,” he acknowledges. “I need to be doing that.”

Miller primarily trains in Philadelphia, preparing for one last attempt at a heavyweight title. The Pero fight will serve as the WBA title eliminator. The winner will become the mandatory challenger to face champion Oleksandr Usyk, who is ESPN’s No. 1 pound-for-pound fighter and the best heavyweight by a considerable margin. This is a peculiar moment in boxing’s most glamorous division, where Usyk stands alone at the top, followed by a tier of lesser-known but capable fighters. The division’s biggest draws — Joshua, Tyson Fury, Deontay Wilder — are all aging fringe contenders but still attract attention due to their names. Miller is on the fringes of that tier.

If Miller wins and secures a fight against Usyk or one of the established names, he would instantly land the most significant bout and payday of his career. He should probably have a Bozy in every aspect of his life right now to keep him on course.

“He does need some adult supervision,” Bozy remarks. “He’s a good guy, and he’s a good boxer when he allows people to guide him.”

MOST PEOPLE sigh when they say, “It is what it is.” They are usually attempting to come to terms with something life has thrown their way. Miller’s version carries an optimistic tone. He expresses it with enthusiasm, as if whatever unpleasant circumstance he is discussing marks the beginning of a new chapter, rather than a reluctant acceptance.

He has encountered numerous “It is what it is” moments throughout his life. Many are at least partially his own doing. His 2023 arrest for carjacking his own truck from a dealer was a poor decision. The same goes for taking sexual enhancement pills before the most significant fight of his life, and mixing hair chemicals just days before the second most important fight of his life. “Mistakes have been made,” he acknowledges now.

However, the universe deserves some blame as well. He spent the mid-2010s rising as a formidable contender, possessing a skill set characterized by relentless forward movement that none of the top fighters wanted to confront. At one point, he held a record of 23-0-1 with 20 knockouts. The Joshua fight debacle should have been a brief setback, but instead, Miller found himself boxing in Siberia ever since.

That is what makes his response to this phase of his life such an intriguing insight into humility. Who wouldn’t feel at least a bit frustrated that it took a flailing toupee to reach the place they always aspired to be? Who wouldn’t bristle at the countless tweets or TikToks poking fun at them? He should probably feel broken by the boxing industry at this point, yet he is smiling. He is correct when he discusses how all one can do is shrug their shoulders at times and attempt to build upon whatever unexpected mess falls from the sky.

“People respect you more when you can admit mistakes,” he states. “Nobody has ever gotten life completely right the first time. The main thing is, you can’t quit.”

As he works out in Miami, he is both enthusiastic about the future and processing the recent past. Miller is performing some dumbbell curls when a couple, a young man and woman in their mid-20s, approach and stand behind him. They wait for him to finish his set, then she extends her arms for a hug, and the guy offers a handshake. They all know each other from the gym and haven’t seen him since he went viral.

They exchange pleasantries as the woman takes a deliberate step back. This has been a frequent occurrence for Miller lately — she is assessing his hair situation as a golfer might step back from a putt for a better view.

“Wow,” she remarks. “It’s coming back in nicely. It really is.”

In this moment, Miller likely would have preferred to discuss his comeback victory or what lies ahead in his boxing career. However, she is focused on his hair, and that is perfectly fine with Miller.

“I know,” he replies. “It is coming back in. It is.”

He glances over and winks. Then, he looks back at her and states, “It is what it is.”