Every boxer has a cutman. Philly’s Jaron ‘Boots’ Ennis has a cutwoman in his corner.
Kuller has been a trailblazer in a job long dominated by men. And it all started because a single mom simply wanted to save her son some money.

Trish Kuller worked in the emergency room at Nazareth Hospital, often serving as the first to inspect an electrician or welder who came in with his hand wrapped in bandages and a finger missing.
So why would Kuller, a single mother of two, pay someone to be her son’s cutman when he became a professional boxer? No wound in the ring could be worse than the ER, Kuller figured. Hiring a cutman just seemed like another expense.
“I said, I’ll do it,” Kuller said. “Then I was like, ‘How do I even become a cutwoman? Is there schooling?‘”
Kuller, 44, studied for a year under prominent Philadelphia cornerman Danny Davis, who prepared the mom to be her son’s “cutwoman” for his first pro bout in June 2021. Quadir Albright won with a quick knockout and Kuller soon started working for other fighters.
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She’ll be in Atlantic City on Saturday night in the corner of Jaron “Boots” Ennis — one of Philadelphia’s two current world champions — at Boardwalk Hall. It will be Kuller’s job between rounds to help prevent Ennis (33-0, 29 knockouts) from swelling as he defends his IBF welterweight title on DAZN against WBA champ Eimantas Stanionis (15-0, 9 KOs) of Lithuania.
If Ennis sustains a cut, Kuller will have to find a way to slow the bleeding. The gig has long been male-dominated — hence the term “cutman” — and Davis said he does not recall another Philadelphia woman working the cuts on fight night.
“People were calling me a ‘cutman,‘” said Kuller, who grew up in West Philly. “And I kept saying ‘cutwoman.‘”
Kuller has been a trailblazer, infiltrating a tough business where cutmen compete for work by bouncing from fighter to fighter like mercenaries. A cutman, Davis said, can determine the result of a fight. And Kuller has become trusted by some of the sport’s premier fighters. It all started because a single mom simply wanted to save her son some money.
“It wasn’t in my mind that I can go far with this,” Kuller said. “It was just ‘I’m helping my son.‘”
Chasing a dream
Boxing, Kuller thought, would keep her 12-year-old son busy for a summer when he followed his two cousins to the Cobbs Creek Recreation Center. Albright came home and said he wanted to be a pro.
“I didn’t know if it was really going to stick,” Kuller said. “But it stuck.”
Kuller went to family parties to watch Mike Tyson fights but wasn’t a devout follower of the sweet science. That quickly changed when her son chased his dream. Albright fought more than 50 amateur fights and his mother rarely missed a bout.
“One of my fights was close to her job,” Albright said. “She actually took a bathroom break, came to my fight, and then hurried back to work.”
Kuller raised Albright and his sister Martrisha in Darby while working as an ER technician at Nazareth and studying at Harcum College to become a medical technologist. She often brought her laptop when her son traveled for boxing and finished her schoolwork in hotel rooms. She did whatever it took.
“She set a great example for me that you don’t need anyone to motivate you,” Albright said. “You have to be self-motivated. If you really want it, you have to go and get it. A single mom with two kids. She always went and got it, no matter what. Then helped us along the way while trying to help herself. She’s the best role model.”
Albright came with his mother when he started her cutwoman training at Davis’ gym. The son sat on a stool in the corner of the ring, serving as a real-life mannequin as Davis told Kuller where to apply ice and how to slow specific cuts.
Davis worked Bernard Hopkins’ corner for years and learned under legendary trainers like Freddie Roach and cutmen like Leon Tabbs. Davis passed that knowledge to Kuller.
“I told her that if you’re going to do this, you have to bust the door in,” Davis said. “You can’t be afraid. I said, ‘You’re going to get beat up in this game.’ She was up for the task. I was extra hard on her because I knew what she was going to face. She’s the minority. I told her, ‘If you can take me, you can take being in front of thousands of people without fumbling the ball.‘”
A cutman may find steady work — Davis works every Jake Paul fight — but they also have to hustle to stay busy. Davis regularly shows up to weigh-ins and looks around to see who needs a cutman the next night.
It’s a competitive business and loyalty is rare. Davis is friends with Ennis, but he’ll have no problem working the opposite corner on Saturday night. He told Kuller that she’ll have to work hard to make it. The single mom is used to that.
“It was a challenge and I was willing to take the challenge,” Kuller said. “I didn’t care if I was tired and had to go to school or if I woke up tired and had to go to work. That still follows me today.”
A cutwoman and fashion designer
Albright did not have to find a cutman, but he did need an outfit for his first fight. His mother told him to price some out.
“He said they were like 500 or 600 dollars,” Kuller said. “I said, ‘Oh, I think I’ll be making your outfit for you.’ I was a single parent, still in school. I didn’t have another 500 or 600 dollars to put into a boxing outfit that they wear one time and then need a new outfit for the next fight. All these $600 were going to add up.”
She never used a sewing machine, but the mother who became a cutwoman figured she could also be a seamstress. Kuller researched online how to make boxing trunks and got to work. She made the outfit by hand using cheetah-patterned fabric to honor her late mother.
“When I wanted to put his name on the waistband, I went to the mall and said, ‘Can you print me a shirt with his name on it?‘” Kuller said. “I cut that out and stitched it to the waistband. No one knew.”
Her son loved it as he started his career that night with a win in South Philly.
“It actually didn’t look bad,” said Albright, a welterweight who is 12-1 with 12 knockouts and fights in June at the 2300 Arena. “That jawn was still fly, definitely for a first outfit. It meant a lot.”
Kuller stepped up her game from her debut, learned how to use a sewing machine, and quickly had other fighters placing orders. The boxing business suddenly became a side hustle to her full-time job at an urgent care. Kuller sometimes makes three outfits at once, staying up until 3 a.m. to make sure a fighter looks sharp.
“People see him in the locker room and they’re like, ‘Who did your outfit?’ He says, ‘My mom’ and then they’re calling me to make outfits,” Kuller said. “I didn’t think I was going to make outfits for other people. It was all just to help my son.”
Working for Boots
Ennis used to pay a cutman from California to work his corner before he met Albright. They often trained in the same gym and Ennis knew boxers who used Kuller on fight night. Ennis, who is trained by his father, decided to give her a shot three years ago.
“There’s an art to it,” said Ennis’ father, Bozy. “Not everybody can do it. I’ve seen a lot of bad ones. She’s really good. What makes a good cutwoman is that she does the same thing a good cutman would do. She makes sure that she wipes the sweat out of the eyes, she fixes the cut, and then he goes right back out.”
A good cutman or cutwoman must be both savvy and calm, Davis said. A boxer will know if you’re frazzled. Kuller said her work in the medical field helps her handle the pressure of fight night. People will often ask her why she’s not smiling when they see her on TV. She’s not angry, Kuller said. She’s just focused.
“I know a lot of cutmen who panicked and fumbled the ball,” Davis said. “As a cutman or cutwoman, you have to remain calm and under control. That fighter can feel if you’re in control or fumbling the ball. The fighter knows that. You have to make that fighter know he’s secure with you in the corner. They have to know ‘If I get cut, I know Trish is going to take care of me.‘”
Kuller and her son would watch Ennis fight on TV and then be starstruck when they saw him walk into a local amateur show. “Boots” was like a celebrity. On Saturday, Kuller will walk with him into the ring.
“It’s definitely surreal,” Kuller said. “Every now and then me and my son have a conversation about it. We’re doing things that we didn’t imagine doing. Especially me. He said he wanted to become a pro, he became a pro. But I never imagined making outfits for anybody or being a cutwoman for a world champion. It’s crazy. I’m grateful.”
Ennis has rarely been tested in his nine-year career. His fights are often light work for a cutwoman who has seen a few gruesome cuts. But Saturday should be Ennis’ stiffest challenge of his career as he tries to become a unified champion. If needed, the cutwoman will be ready. And it all started because a mother just wanted to help her son.
“It was whatever my son needed,” Kuller said. “Everything was to help my son financially. If I had to do three years of schooling, I was willing to do that. I didn’t have to do that, but I was willing to do it.”