Sugar Ray Leonard
I remember my Dad calling me from my bedroom to watch the first of the two awesome fights that Sugar Ray had against Thomas Hearns. I was only nine years old but I already knew I wanted to box. I was transfixed by the speed and agility that Sugar Ray showed that night. I would later watch him again and again but, once that fight finished, I was inspired and sprang up to shadow box around the living room, throwing punches at the wall. I was always imitating great fighers as a kid.

I met Ray for the first time last year at a hotel in London, a couple of days after I beat Sakio Bika in an ugly bout. I was bruised and beaten, and a little embarrassed, but Ray was gracious and down to earth. He said he had been drawn into the wrong kind of fight several times and that the important thing was winning - it showed character. He also complimented me on my win over Jeff Lacy, describing it as perfect, and expressed sympathy for the repeated hand injuries I've suffered. He had similar problems and understood my frustration. Meeting the great man only enhanced my opinion of him.

Marvin Hagler
Hagler was a great boxer. He had power and skill but what impressed me most was his sheer will. I remember his famous fight with Thomas Hearns in 1985. Hearns had Hagler in trouble in the first round but you still felt he would win. You looked at the determination in his eyes and could not imagine him beaten. That is what separates a champion from the good boxer. The belief in your invincibility. It's strange, I have always had it. When I left school, the teachers asked me what I was going to do and I said 'become champion of the world'. They laughed, but I just knew it would happen.

Muhammad Ali
Almost every boxer is influenced in some way by Ali. As a kid, I watched as much boxing as I could and loved the footage of Ali. Yet, oddly, my first boxing memory is of him getting a savage beating by Larry Holmes [in 1980]. I had listened to my Dad tell stories about him and could not wait to watch him fight. So I was shocked by his performance that night. He looked old and washed up. Afterwards, he appeared on Parkinson and his words were heavy and slurred. That night has stayed with me. I feel in great shape now, I could fight until I'm 40. But I will not end my career like Ali did his. I plan to bow out at the top.

Enzo Calzaghe
My father did not fight professionally but he knew how to box. Growing up in Sardinia, every boy played football and boxed. At family parties my Grandad would get out the gloves and ask the younger men to fight. Dad did the same with me, asking me to punch the palms of the men invited. That ended fairly quick, though, when they felt my strength.

Dad taught the basics of boxing as soon as I was old enough to raise my fists. At ten I joined Newbridge Boxing Club and the trainer could not believe I had not entered a gym before. I already knew how to stand, hook, throw combinations, and that was thanks to my Dad. Later, I struggled for sparring partners. There was no one around good enough and I would knock out boys two and three years older than me. So instead I sparred with my Dad, right up until I was about 18. They were not true fights, but there was the occasional tasty punch. In fact, Dad has a bit of a squashed nose now and that's probably down to me.

Joe Calzaghe: No Ordinary Joe is published in hardback by Century on May 24, priced at £18.99

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