They should never come back

We all have our heroes. Back in the mists of time one of mine was Nigel Benn or “the Dark Destroyer”, the British sometime WBO middleweight champion and WBC super-middleweight champion who had a pro career record of 42 win (35 knockouts) in 48 fights.

Those successful sports stars who prompt lasting fan devotion tend to divide into those whose talent and skills are undeniable and corroborated by the record books and/or the number of goals they score or games/contests (and the attendant trophies) they win … and those whose personalities as exhibited in the raw whenever they enter the sporting arena resonate on a more instinctive level because of their visceral, extreme, exhilarating approach to their trade – and sometimes life.

Part of the attraction of those in the latter group is the sense of ‘occasion’, uncertainty and perhaps to some degree danger that attends their performances.

In Benn’s case, you knew that every time he entered the ring the one thing you were guaranteed was an exciting event. If it hadn’t already been in circulation by the time he appeared on the British boxing scene, the term “tear-up” could have been invented for him.

He loved them.

He had an air about him – in interviews, at weigh-ins, on the auditorium walk, as the referee called the fighters to the centre of the ring for their instructions – that given half the chance, he’d be prepared to take on two opponents at a time inside a red telephone box.

It wasn’t even madman-aggression. He spoke softly, with a pronounced lisp, but whenever observing him – even when the circumstance was something as mundane as his trainer just lacing up his gloves – you sensed the inner strength and life force burning within.

Every opponent he ever met knew in advance that they were going to be under relentless pressure and were going to have to dig as deep as they ever had if they were going to survive, let alone prevail.

Because beside his elemental fighting spirit, Benn possessed dynamite in both fists. He seemed to approach each contest as if – for him – reaching the final bell of the final round amounted to a ‘moral’ loss.

He was ‘going to get you out of there’ unless you got him out first.

And, boy, could he fight!

I originally became aware of him via reputation and the pages of Boxing News and – if memory serves – first saw him in the flesh in a four-rounder way down the bill on a Mike Barrett/Mickey Duff promotion at the Royal Albert Hall which lasted no more than sixty seconds into the second round.

Later, of course, there came the Chris Eubank rivalry and fights, the loss to the ill-fated Michael Watson and the epic but devastating clash with Gerald McClellan which left the latter blind and wheelchair-bound.

All things must pass, of course. Benn eventually retired after three consecutive losses, two of them to the Irishman Steve Collins.

He seemed to be doing okay – he found God, he became an internationally-renowned DJ and now of course his son Conor is developing a pro boxing career as a light-welterweight.

And then this happens.

Benn, now 55, having been refused a boxing licence by the British Boxing Board of Control, is coming out of retirement to fight again, courtesy of some two-bit semi-official equivalent board of control.

For all its plusses, boxing is a brutal and dangerous sport and Nigel Benn should not be doing this.

See here for links, firstly to a piece by Declan Taylor on the news that appears upon the website of – THE INDEPENDENT

And, secondly, to a troubling Donald McCrae interview with Jane Couch, one of Britain’s first-ever female boxers, now living in reduced and strained circumstances, as appears upon the website of – THE GUARDIAN