Ricky Hatton: King in a Day.
| Ricky Hatton was not the only twenty-something lad to have woken up on that hazy Sunday morning nursing a collection of stitches around an eye. Granted, most others did so in a cell or a corner in a casualty ward, certain to be back out on the razz and none the wiser once the wounds healed. Hatton’s injuries were an occupational hazard, but he |  © Mike Cleary |
would not be back in a boxing ring for several months. Eamonn Magee had seen to that. What proved to be a pivotal learning curve in a career destined to take many more turns before its defining moment was at that moment simply a hard night’s work survived. Hatton played pool, ribbed his mates, supped his pint, and got up to bob and weave then feign a few punches, letting everyone know he was all right. He was just one of the lads in what could have been any smoke-filled room in any pub in the country. Except of course for the television crew and several dozen well-wishers crowding the place. Hatton duly signed each autograph, greeted complete strangers with a friendly nod, and obliged an interview for the evening news before we all took our places for the second half of the England game.
The stubborn Swedes forced a draw in England’s opening group match, stacking the odds against us once more. Unlucky losers again. Twelve hours before, Ricky Hatton had hit the deck in the first round of his biggest fight, courtesy of a beautiful right hook counter. The same notes again. All that talent, all that expectation for nothing. It was almost to be expected. But the kid rallied, he found himself, and a way to overwhelm Magee over the distance. It wasn’t much, especially when weighed against the might of the all-conquering Kostya Tszyu, the undisputed champion fresh from knocking his closest rival, Zab Judah sideways, but it was enough to keep hope alive.
The story goes that Hatton approached Tszyu in the lobby of the Vegas hotel after the Judah fight to congratulate the champion and let him know that sometime in the future, they would meet again in the ring. Tszyu was apparently gracious but unmoved, not overtly dismissive as he was when a thoroughly beaten Ben Tackie told him after their fight, “We will meet again,†Tszyu simply said, “I don’t think so.†Tszyu’s vacant response to Hatton’s statement was just. Tszyu could not possibly have thought that he was looking at the fighter that would not only beat him, but break him. Neither did most with a scrap of boxing sense. No one, not even trainer Johnny Lewis who must love his fighter as a son can stop a fighter of such incomparable quality as Tszyu. Therefore, the immutable fact is that Ricky Hatton broke Kostya Tszyu’s heart.
In that surreal moment when the great champion conceded defeat, vindication flowed. Vindication to the thousands of fans that filed away from that same arena year after year with unfailing loyalty preventing them from believing the media siege upon Hatton’s prospects. Vindication for Frank Warren who with true promotional shrewdness had the next generation of British hope clearly visible to all. Amir Khan’s arrival is imminent, but his progression can happily develop in Hatton’s shadow for now. And finally, vindication for Ricky Hatton, who weathered the storms of criticism, fought the fight of his life and restored pride to the British boxing establishment he continues to carry with the same quiet dignity that endears him to so many.
When Lennox Lewis retired, he took with him the credibility of the heavyweight division that now suffers so greatly in his absence and several great champions remain, aiming to depart the game on their ownterms. Hatton’s victory stands as a proclamation to all heirs apparent to topple their champions and carry boxing into a bold new era. Tszyu is the first victim of that movement. In unifying the light welterweight titles in 2001, he realized his defining moment. Farewell tours do not belong in boxing, therefore, it may be that with nothing more to prove, he leaves his championship in secure hands.
Hope was for Hatton to prove that he belonged in world class company, to give a good account of himself, to earn another notable appearance en route to certain defeat. Suddenly, Ricky Hatton is any reasonable person’s undisputed light welterweight champion and while the nature of his fighting style may not allow him to dominate the division like the champions of old, fights against the likes of Diego Corrales, Jose Luis Castillo, Miguel Cotto, Arturo Gatti or Floyd Mayweather Jr. can certainly secure his legacy in these times.
Hatton’s presence at this weekend’s Gatti-Mayweather super-fight is significant. If Mayweather wins, unification with Hatton means that he faces the same fighter, only younger and stronger. Gatti stated long ago that he would like to fight Hatton, so if Gatti wins, happy days are here again. With virtually no heavyweight division to speak of and an aged middleweight champion on the verge of retirement, to stand atop the immensely talented light welterweight division could be boxing’s highest distinction. Therefore, Ricky Hatton could take his seat in Atlantic City with the air of a celebrity, although he won’t. He will sign autographs and make television appearances in the same affable manner he always has. Ricky Hatton is “one of the lads†that made it, proof that dreams can come true. Well, once in a blue moon anyway.
Jim Cawkwell can be reached at jimcawkwell@yahoo.co.uk