There will be a lot at stake when Ricky Hatton fights Floyd Mayweather next weekend. Mayweather’s “pound-for-pound” crown and various sanctioning-body belts will be on the line. More significantly, an entire historical era could be laid to rest.
Britain is the cradle of modern boxing. But for most of the past century, the American public has looked down its nose at British fighters. If Hatton triumphs, it will be among the biggest wins ever for a British boxer.
America’s perception of our fighters has been jaundiced since 1927, when British and Empire heavyweight champion Phil Scott came to New York and was knocked out in one round by Knute Hansen. Scott became known as “Phainting Phil” because of his penchant for faking fouls to win via disqualification. His performance gave birth to the maxim: “British heavyweights are horizontal heavyweights.”
It took the emergence of Lennox Lewis in the mid90s to change that. Until then, the pattern, it seemed, was obvious. Even the best British boxers failed when they came to the United States. That was especially true of the heavyweights, of whom Muhammad Ali beat four.
Henry Cooper was a good fighter whose skin betrayed him. Ali stopped him twice, both times on cuts. Cooper explained what it’s like to be behind against an opponent who is outboxing you: “You keep telling yourself, ‘I’ll do it in the next round; I’ll do it in the next’. And the next round never seems to come. If you care about winning – and all fighters do – it’s the worst feeling in the world.”
Cooper’s words summed up decades of British boxing. Brian London fuelled the stereotype, losing to Ali in three rounds (and to Floyd Patterson in 11). Joe Bugner went the distance with “The Greatest” twice, but wasn’t competitive. “Bugner,” Hugh McIlvanney wrote, “is built like a Greek statue but with fewer moves.” Richard Dunn confirmed all the negative cliches, losing to Ali after being knocked down five times.
To the American public at large, boxing is defined by the heavyweight division. And British heavyweights were considered “lovable losers with glass chins”. That notion was reinforced by Frank Bruno, who twice lost to Mike Tyson in the States. “Bruno,” American sportswriter Jim Murray declared, “has a chin of pure Waterford crystal. The biggest danger in fighting Bruno is that you might get hit by flying glass. He has been on more canvases than Rembrandt.”
There were moments of triumph for British boxers in other divisions. Lightweight Ken Buchanan was a superb fighter. But the lasting image that Americans had of him was his 1972 loss at Madison Square Garden to Roberto Duran. John Conteh enjoyed a good run, winning the light-heavyweight crown in 1974. But after three successful defences, he lost to Mate Parlov. Alan Minter captured the middleweight belt from Vito Antuofermo in 1980, but was beaten six months later by American Marvin Hagler.
More significantly, one is hard-pressed to think of a British fighter who came to the United States and won a major fight in the 50 years preceding 1986. That was the year in which Lloyd Honeyghan stopped Donald Curry in six rounds in Atlantic City. Curry was the undisputed welterweight champion and near the top of most pound-for-pound lists. It was a breakthrough victory on American soil for an English fighter against an American. But Curry had been plagued by lifestyle issues. And one year later Honeyghan lost to Jorge Vaca.
To Americans, Great Britain had a great boxing tradition but not the fighters. And as boxing historian Craig Hamilton notes: “Americans think they’re superior to everyone anyway. The only way to eradicate that perception is to beat it out of them.” Ricky Hatton has the opportunity to do that next weekend, but the only fighter from this country to have actually done it is Lennox Lewis.
The 1990s were a time of revival for boxing in this country. With a multiplicity of sanctioning organisations coming into existence, Nigel Benn and Chris Eubank won middleweight and super-middleweight titles. Naseem Hamed stirred interest in the featherweight division before imploding against Marco Antonio Barrera. But Lennox changed everything.
Born in England, he grew up in Canada, where he learnt to box. He represented Canada in the Olympics, winning super-heavyweight gold in 1988. But when he turned pro, he campaigned out of England.
“I had dual citizenship,” Lennox recalls, “and an appreciation for the history of British boxing. It bothered me at first, the way Americans talked about British fighters. They didn’t respect me or my craft. But I have to admit there was some truth to what they were saying. British boxers have always had a lot of heart. British boxers would always get in great shape and tough it out. But very often, there was a lack of skill because of the way they trained. I had the great advantage of being exposed to different training techniques when I was in Canada and later in the US. I had all types of boxers coming at me, in sparring and in fights. That was the key to learning my craft.”
Lewis won his first world title in 1993. Three fights later, shockingly, he was knocked out by Oliver McCall. He reclaimed the crown by beating McCall, consolidated the various heavyweight belts, and was the dominant boxer in the world. “Lennox Lewis is in danger of giving British heavyweights a good name,” Jerry Izenberg, America’s premier sportswriter, wrote after Lewis dominated Evander Holyfield in consecutive fights in 1999, being held to a draw by questionable scoring in their first encounter and winning the second. But one hurdle to full recognition by the American people remained.
“American fans are tough,” Lennox says. “You can’t prove it to them by beating someone else. To be fully accepted by the American public, you have to go to America and beat the best American fighters. I did that; and eventually, people started saying, ‘Hey, he’s good’. But there was one more guy out there. The terror, Mike Tyson. Even when Tyson was young, I felt I could beat him. Yes, he looked great, but who was he looking great against? By the time I fought him, Tyson hadn’t done much of anything for years. I knew it was going to be a mismatch, but the American people didn’t know it.”
In June 2002, Lewis hammered Tyson into the canvas the way an oversized hammer smashes nails into a pine board. Finally, he was recognised as the best heavyweight in the world. “Tyson is still a big talking point with a lot of people,” Lennox says with a smile. “They’re always asking me, ‘How’s Mike? What’s going on with Mike?’ I doubt that they ask him, ‘How’s Lennox? What’s going on with Lennox?’ ” Lewis broke the dyke, although there is debate in America as to how much British boxing has really changed. “The British have always produced decent fighters,” says promoter Bob Arum. “But they haven’t gotten better lately. The American fighters have gotten worse. We’re not producing good fighters in the United States any more. You can see that by how we’re doing in the Olympics. And the absence of good American fighters has created a void that fighters from other countries are filling.”
Billy Graham, Ricky Hatton’s trainer, adds: “Over the decades, we have generally done better than most countries. And considering how much smaller we are than the States, we’ve done well in that comparison too. But for the Americans to accept you, they’ve got to see you do it against one of their own in the flesh.”
Only Joe Calzaghe today comes close to Hatton as a British boxer attracting interest on the other side of the Atlantic. He is the sport’s longest reigning current champion, having held versions of the super-middleweight crown for 10 years. His signature victories have been against Jeff Lacy and Mikkel Kessler, both of whom he beat convincingly. But the Welshman has fought outside of the UK only twice in his pro career. His victories over Lacy (in Manchester) and Kessler (in Cardiff) were on British soil. Most of his opponents have been second-tier fighters. And he has yet to defeat an elite American boxer.
As brilliant as he might be, he hasn’t convinced the sceptics in America. And he won’t win them over if he fights Clinton Woods (the light-heavyweight champion from Sheffield) next. Calzaghe himself says: “A fighter secures his legacy by winning difficult fights against tough opponents.” If Joe wants to be accepted by the American public, he should travel there and fight the world’s top light-heavyweight, Bernard Hopkins.
That would be similar to the path Hatton is following. All but four of his first 40 fights were in England. In 2005 he gained acclaim for an 11th-round stoppage of Kostya Tszyu. But Hatton had never beaten a top American fighter. And as Lewis observes: “Just because a fight is a big event in England, doesn’t mean that it will impress people in the United States. It’s essential to a fighter’s legacy that he fight the best and beat the best in America.”
Last year Hatton came to America. In victories over Luis Collazo, Juan Urango and Jose Luis Castillo, he garnered respect. Now he is facing the ultimate challenge: the man regarded by many as the world’s best “pound-for-pound” fighter, Floyd Mayweather Jr. Hatton will enter the ring as a clear underdog. But, as Lewis notes: “You fight differently when you have an entire country behind you.”
If Hatton beats Mayweather, it will eliminate the last vestiges of prejudice in the US against British fighters. Robert Waterman (who was once Hatton’s co-promoter) goes further: “If Ricky beats Floyd, the shoe will be on the other foot. The Americans will have to worry about how we perceive their fighters.”
