British boxing had its first opportunity to pause and remember Ricky Hatton in Sheffield last Saturday.
Ahead of Dave Allen’s homecoming fight against Arslanbek Makhmudov, a 10-bell salute rang out for one of the sport’s most beloved sons on a night where he would have probably been amongst the crowd himself if he were still with us.
‘There was a guy absolutely sobbing behind me,’ said former world champion Johnny Nelson, in attendance that night. ‘I hope Ricky realised how much he touched people. This poor man was in absolute pieces. These moments to grieve and remember, they are not going to go away.’
Boxing is still reeling from the loss and on Thursday, the fears of many were confirmed after a coroner’s court hearing heard ‘The Hitman’ died by suicide, found by his long-time manager and close friend Paul Speak at his home in Hyde, Manchester.
Hatton struggled desperately as he tried to leave boxing behind over a decade ago and his battles with depression and substance abuse consumed him after life in the ring. Sadly, it’s a story all too familiar in the boxing world, told countless times with each case heartbreaking in its own right.
For so many, it is only once the spotlight fades does the real battle begin. Frank Bruno struggled with his mental health as the realisation his days at the top of the sport were numbered. Like Hatton did, he has fought courageously over the years as a mental health advocate, shattering boxing’s wall of silence over a subject once deemed taboo. Tyson Fury was another lost after he fell into a spiral into depression, suicidal until people like Hatton helped him find the light again.
‘It is not a secret about Ricky’s mental health issues and the dark times in his mind. And he’s not the only one,’ former world champion Nelson said. ‘I am telling you, there are so many fighters in that situation. Fighters that were household names that are in that situation. Because in our fight game, the aftercare doesn’t exist.’
On the frontline in the battle to support boxers in danger of becoming lost is Dave Harris, the chairman The Ringside Charitable Trust. He founded the organisation in 2019 with the aim of helping those who are struggling after hanging up their gloves. The Trust is currently trying to establish residential care for former professionals who are now vulnerable, dealing with depression, addiction or injuries from their time in the ring. They hope to open a 36-bed facility to also help look after the growing number of former professionals dealing with pugilistic dementia.
Harris told us a story of a former British and European champion who died in 2020. On his frequent visits, they would enjoy trips down memory lane taking about the glory days, but often Harris would find the former fighter scared and confused, once pleading to go home with him rather than return to his care facility.
He has had countless interactions with boxers left broken by the sport with nowhere to turn. ‘We have had former champions sobbing down the phone,’ he told Metro. ‘It has got to the point where I can identify very well-known people in the sport who I would say are going to struggle later on. Some of them who are still boxing now. But they pass their scans so they are allowed to do it. These things might not show up on a scan but believe me, it’s there.’
The Ringside Charitable Trust works with the British Boxing Board of Control but resources are already stretched to the limit. Turning to promoters has been a thankless task with Boxxer’s Ben Shalom the only major promoter to donate to the Trust, according to Harris.
Anthony Joshua has reached out, offering to take an active role having shared his own concerns. But other high-profile names, the biggest, in fact, have not been forthcoming with support.
It’s a line trotted out regularly but it always ring true; boxing is the loneliest sport. There are no teammates to carry the burden of defeat with you backstage in the dressing room. Things can only get worse once retirement begins to break onto the horizon.
‘It is so lonely, so dark,’ Nelson said, who had his own struggles when he retired in 2005, walking away as the longest reigning cruiserweight champion in history. ‘You think it is just happening to you. You are losing your memory, your speech is going. You’re angry and you don’t know why, it feels like someone has stolen a day out of the week. Something is wrong and you don’t know who to blame or what it is.
‘It is a hard place to be. Most sportsmen, especially boxers, really struggle for the first five years after retirement. Because there is something missing. They can’t fulfil it and drink, drugs, depression, whatever it might be, follows. In the mind of a boxer, you have to take yourself to a place where you are getting in the ring, the only place in the world where you can legally get killed. Knowing that requires you to be in a certain mindset. And when you become a civilian again, those extremes no longer apply.’
While many in positions of power and influence are being accused of staying silent on something Harris describes as an ‘epidemic’, help has come elsewhere. Former world title challenger Paul Smith, with Amir Khan also a founding member, launched the Global Fighters Association earlier this year, a boxing union hoping to replicate what the PFA [Professional Footballers’ Association] offers its players.
Former cruiserweight king Nelson meanwhile is setting up a pension saving scheme for fighters, hoping it will be embraced by the British Boxing Board of Control as a means to safeguard the earnings of fighters to ensure there is something left when the journey ends.
‘Our sport needs to evolve like others have because so many individuals in the sport profit. There isn’t enough people saying “our job is to take care of you.” We just don’t seem to take care each other,’ Nelson said.
‘I have been working on it the last two or three years and we are at the point where we are speaking to Lloyds of London and top financial management teams, people who have set up pensions and schemes before. Robert Smith [the British Boxing Board of Control and General Secretary] likes the outlay, there are a few things still be sorted. But we are making progress.’
People like Harris and Nelson live and breathe boxing. Despite the pain Harris encounters on a regularly basis, the alternative where the sport becomes even less regulated doesn’t bear thinking about.
‘The Board do an amazing job for such a small organisation,’ he said. ‘There are sometimes 40 shows a month, they must be stretched and stretched, every time making sure there are ambulances, paramedics and all the necessary equipment [on site] if somebody does have an accident in the ring. The last thing I want to happen is for it to go underground.
‘There would be 20 times the casualties because you would not be getting this first class service of looking after boxers who are in the ring taking the risks there and then.’
Hatton’s name is likely to sang out across arenas and stadiums for some time to come with his legacy perhaps the most compelling and humane story in the history of boxing in this country.
But he will not be the last to struggle and right now, the sport must do more to ensure its heroes do not become lost souls.
‘A lot of them dream of being the Anthony Joshuas of this world but there is less than one per cent who end up like that who can live on their earnings,’ Harris said. ‘That’s the state of play unfortunately.
‘Let’s hope Ricky didn’t die in vain and this tragedy can be life saving for so many others. There is no use just being a beacon, we want to light the torch and make British boxing the best in the world when it comes to looking after its own.’