THE KING OF THE SHOWMEN (November 1999 article)

**WWatt** · 04-03-2006 05:23 PM

Boxing legend Chris Eubank may have given up his career in the ring but he still wants to be the centre of attention. The ex-middleweight, who has swapped his boxing gloves for Savile Row suits and a monocle, talks to DAVID EDWARDS about his transformation days in New York in the 80's, his passion for poetry, the finer things in life and his favourite pastime of all - showing off

LAST month Chris Eubank stepped into a room full of people and stood face to face with his old adversary, Nigel Benn.

The pair's last encounter in 1993 was branded Judgement Day and ended in a hugely-controversial draw.

As Eubank entered the ring, butterflies rose in his stomach and a light sweat formed on his brow.

Hove's most famous resident had been in training for weeks for his first fight in more than a year.

The disappointment of losing to Carl Thompson for the WBO cruiserweight title had not gone away and Eubank knew a lot rested on this clash.

Cheers erupted around the two fighters as the first bell went and they began edging towards one another.

Both fighters gave gutsy performances but in the third round, Benn went down and did not get up from the mat.

Exhausted but elated, Eubank smiled at the pummelled body at his feet and, throwing down the Sega controller, raised his arms in triumph.

The match had been fought in a shop on a television screen and the boxers had been nothing more than computer-generated graphics, but it is the only form of fighting Eubank cares for these days.

Although he will not rule out a return to the ring he is retired in all but name and, conversely, probably has a higher profile than ever.

This is one of the reasons, explains Mary his PA, why it has taken more than six months to arrange this interview.

As we wait in her study while Eubank gets ready upstairs, she tells us that promoting the new Sega Dreamcast is just one of his latest projects.

"Last week he launched the Sega Dreamcast then, on Thursday, he had meetings in Kensington and on Friday there was a ball at the Hilton where Chris auctioned himself for breakfast and raised some money for charity.

"Then there was a breast cancer campaign at the Dorchester."

Mary has just signed up for the British Telecom Callminder system, but her volume of work is so high that it's not helping much.

Eventually Eubank, dressed in a white T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, walks into the room and ushers us into his kitchen where the interview begins around a large oak table.

Eubank (whose surname was always spelt Eubanks until he deleted the 's' in 1989) was born and raised in South London where the troubled youngster had frequent run-ins with the authorities and was placed in care at the age of 12.

"I was a juvenile delinquent in difficult places and coming out of all these boarding schools for being an unruly type of youngster.

"If there was a fight I was the first in, always at the front. When I was six or seven years old, other children wouldn't play with me because I was too rough. I was very enthusiastic and I would get beaten up at least four times a week.

"When I was in care I would always be the first to break into the staff room office.

"Nothing ever got to me, nothing ever rested on my shoulders, but it's sad when you look back at it now."

The young Eubank's scrapes led his father to decide a change of environment would be good for his son and sent him to live with his mother in New York in 1982.

It was on the mean streets of the South Bronx that Eubank came of age, joining the church and embarking on a tough training programme to get himself in shape.

"My father saw it was best to take me out of the environment I was in and put me in another. He was very wise to have done that. I stayed in school and got in shape. I went into the church and learned a trade.

"My mother left us for New York when I was eight years old because my father didn't treat her right, so I hadn't seen her since then.

"We lived in poverty and I ended up as a homeless thief.

"I was let down by everybody in the world until I was 16. I quit alcohol, quit marijuana - it was a clean slate for me.

"New Yorkers thought I was a weirdo because I spoke like Prince Charles and always walked with my chest held high and often strutted my stuff, you know?

"With years of repetition I'd developed that tone of voice through hearing posh people I envied on TV and radio in my early teens and trying to copy the way the spoke and, eventually, it just kind of stuck. I thought it had style, and I thought you'd be given a deeper form of respect."

Eubank's parents paid $15 a month for him to be trained at the Jerome Boxing Club in the South Bronx to take up his spare time and help keep him out of trouble.

"My brothers Peter and Simon (twins) were boxers so it was in the family.

"I really got into it at the Jerome and trained harder and harder as the months progressed until it got to the point where I was obsessed with repetition and trying to master the basic punches.

"I was very raw material at first, very limited. But got better with pure repetition and obsessive training.

"I became an amateur boxer and as an 18-year-old light-middleweight I won the 1984 Spanish Golden Gloves then got to the semi-finals of the 1985 New York Golden Gloves.

"I was a slugger in the amateurs, the first time I ever really placed chess was on my professional debut and it came by chance. I don't remember any part of the fight, but I looked back at the video of the fight and saw that I was playing chess in there and it remained my style from then on.

"I'd never been so nervous as I was for my pro debut, but as soon as the referee said 'box' I was at peace and the rest is a blur.

"The only other time I couldn't remember a part of a fight was round five and round six of the first Benn fight, looking back at the video soon after I just could not remember round five or round six of the fight happening."

Chris turned professional shortly after his 19th birthday, at the Atlantis Hotel against Timmy Brown. But didn't believe it would be his line of work at that point.

"I had no intention to make a career out of boxing.

"You see, I'd been studying at Morris High School in the South Bronx simultaneously to boxing. My studies were my priority and boxing was just a hobby.

"I turned pro because I needed the money. I got paid one thousand dollars for my first four pro fights. But at that point I only knew how to throw three punches - left jab, right cross, and left hook.

"After my first four fights - all in Atlantic City over four rounds - I went back to the gymnasium and worked with trainers at learning to throw body punches because I felt I needed to add tools to my armoury if I was to possibly continue boxing in the future and keep winning.

"By summer 1986 I knew how to throw a variety of body shots, but it was only really as a back-up for if I failed my exams.

"I graduated from Morris High in summer 1986 and at that time thought I wouldn't require my boxing skills again."

Eubank took an IT course at a study centre in the Bronx, while simultaneously experimenting with martial arts man Walter Johnson who would later become a member of the Eubank camp in his pomp.

"I hooked up with a fellow called Walter, who I know as 'Doctor'. He was deeply into martial arts and interested me, I was deeply into the art of boxing and interested him.

"I didn't have much spare time from September 1986 through to the summer of 1987 because I was studying on the first year of my IT course as well taking odd jobs here, there and everywhere for money and also flying across the Atlantic some weekends to London and catching the train to Peckham or Brighton where some former friends, acquiantances and family members were based.

"But when I had the time, I worked with Walter at the gymnasium and we worked on blending the martial arts into my boxing style which was very interesting and certainly confused sparring partners as the months progressed.

"Before that, I always held my hands up. But by then I was holding my hands down to confuse people and relying on flexibility I was developing. I was advancing my style."

Eubank's boxing manager and mentor of five years, Adonis Torres, passed away in October 1987.

"When Adonis Torres died, I was gutted. This was the first person who had ever treated me with respect. I couldn't hold the tears back, for days.

"I was on the second year of my IT course at the time, and shortly after Adonis died I was offered a priceless piece of advise from a family friend.

"This particular fellow advised me to put all my eggs into one basket or risk being mediocre at both.

"What he meant was, basically, studies or boxing.

"I knew he was hinting at knocking boxing on the head now that Adonis had died. But I thought about it for a few days and chose boxing.

"I admit the potential earnings in boxing motivated me, and my form whenever I sparred since working with Walter motivated me because nobody I sparred with then could figure out my new style.

"Boxing had taken a backseat but I was a much better fighter than before and needed to know if I was good enough to make champion just to put my mind at rest because I was much more confident in my abilities in the gymnasium by then.

"So I knocked my studies on the head."

Eubank started spending regular time in Brighton from January 1988, where his older brothers, Peter and Simon, had settled.

"I was taking bouts in England while flying between New York and Brighton. I was sparring relentlessly throughout 1988 in New York to improve further, including every weekend from July for the rest of the year, because the so-called sparring was always actually treated as a proper fight over there and also a larger variety of fighters."

He also trained at The King Alfred Leisure Centre in Hove and worked at a Wimpy restaurant and Debenhams in Brighton.

Eubank explains that up until his trip to New York in 1982 he had been "losing", now he was starting to "win".

He is keen to espouse this philosophy which has become one of his guiding principles.

There is, he explains, a sliding scale by which a person's life can be measured - if you are trying your best then you are winning. Likewise people with no drive or ambition are losing.

"There are a lot of people who won't work because they are too proud. All you have to do is try, and working in such places shows I was willing to try.

"I trained hard at the King Alfred, but then I got thrown out of there for being too single-minded and individual. It was because of the way I used the equipment, which was the way I used it in New York."

He demonstrates this by clenching his fists and showing how he would smash the speedball.

**WWatt** · 04-03-2006 05:23 PM

His vault over the top rope, trademark posturing and unorthodox boxing style had got him noticed in England, here was a 10-0 fighter who was calling one of boxing's hottest prospects, Nigel Benn, nothing more than a "fraud" who relied on bullying opponents. Eubank remembered notoriously protecting other children from bullies in his schooldays.

He vaulted over the top rope for every one of his first 50 fights.

"Adonis Torres told me to leap the ropes on my pro debut, he said it would attract the crowd and judges.

"I leaped the ropes on my pro debut and every fight after and later became famous for it, ofcourse."

In July 1989, 12 months after making Brighton his permanent home, Eubank's boxing career was starting to really take off and he was being tipped as a name to watch.

Sure enough, 16 months later he took on Nigel Benn at the NEC in Birmingham and beat the Dark Destroyer in the ninth round.

The new WBO world middleweight champion then famously proposed to his girlfriend, Karron Stephen-Martin, in front of millions of viewers.

They married the same year and now have four children, Christopher, ten, Sebastian, eight, Emily, five, and Joseph, three.

In 1991, Eubank's fight against Michael Watson left the 26-year-old with severe brain damage from which he has never fully recovered, prompting speculation that the man dubbed 'Simply the Best' would hang up his gloves forever.

But this was not to be and a series of high-profile matches followed, including the long-awaited rematch against Benn, Graciano Rocchigiani in his hostile backyard of Berlin, and fights against Irish challenger Steve Collins who famously spooked Eubank with hypnotist claims and the cruiserweight classics against Thompson last year.

He lost many of them and most commentators now believe Eubank's glittering career in the ring is over.

And anyway, these days Eubank is more interested in Keats and Kipling than combat.

This he demonstrates by reciting a poem to our photographer, Skye Brackpool. Looking benignly across the table, his voice drops an octave and he reels off a few verses from memory.

Then he springs from his seat and says: "There's something I've got to show you."

He runs from the room and returns a few moments later with a video tape. He slots it into the VCR above the microwave and turns on the television set which hangs above our table.

The screen flickers to life and we see Eubank, wearing an expensive-looking tweed jacket, sitting at a table on a chatshow.

Pausing the tape for a moment, he says: "All the questions are negatively based, just watch."

As the tape rolls, Eubank is asked what he does for his native Africa, what he thinks of the current furore over women boxing and so on.

Eubank pauses the tape again and says: "All the questions are negatively based. I wasn't winning and I wanted to leave with everyone laughing and smiling.

"Here," he points to the screen, "I've got about four minutes left of all those questions."

The tape starts again and instead of answering the question put to him, he starts reciting Rudyard Kipling's The Female of the Species.

It is a poem with around a dozen stanzas and each is delivered perfectly, the verse ending just in time for the commercial break.

"It took me about three weeks to learn that one. I had four minutes to fill so I strung it along.

"I had answered the negatively-based questions to begin with and then took the show away from the host.

"Right the way through the poem, for no more than ten seconds did I ever lose eye contact with her.

"I wanted to make people smile and teach them and surprise them.

"Poetry is now my number one study. I won't say that I'm retired but I don't want to fight anymore, I'm far too busy and have a much happier existence because the life-style is so very, very lonely and once you achieve, people don't understand you.

"I will always have the kudos of being a hard man and I'm glad I had the grit to stay there, to give it some welly even if I was getting beaten sometimes.

"I became box office because I was good fun, but you wouldn't wish that type of lifestyle on anyone or anything.

"I don't want to run seven days a week to the Marina and back in the wind, and you know how bad it gets on the seafront.

"It's what you need to become the genuine article, to get to the top level and stay there. But it was so very, very hard, being in that gymnasium every morning."

As well as making him one of the most famous men on the planet, Eubank's boxing career also made him very, very rich.

He was able to indulge his passion for the finer things in life by buying the very best Savile Row clothes and, of course, that monocle.

But his millions could not always buy him popularity.

"When I was winning I expected to be liked, but people don't react like that.

"When you keep on winning, people push you away. When you dress well and have all the trappings of success, people don't like that. People only like you when they can empathise with you.

"When you are the only person driving around Britain in a truck or Aston Martin, how can people empathise with that?

"The higher one soars the less people can see who can't fly.

"If I'm soaring, the man in the street doesn't care and doesn't understand and that's why I don't want to win again."

Eubank makes no apologies for the fact that he is a dreadful show-off - indeed, he even commissioned a painting showing him with several scantily-clad models on a catwalk.

The audience is composed of faces from the world of showbusiness, with all eyes focused on the centre of attention.

"I just wanted a picture with every major star in the world in it. The picture is called 'Show-Offs' because that's what everyone in the picture is."

Indeed, who else would spend £45,000 to become Lord of the Manor of Brighton or suggest the West Pier might be a suitable place for his home.

The publicity-hungry Eubank can often be seen driving around Brighton in the rig of a huge American juggernaut, cheerfully hooting its horn while carefully negotiating The Lanes.

"The reason I bought the truck in the first place was because when I first saw it, I thought, 'Wow, look at that'.

"It was so beautiful, I thought if other people could see it then they would have the same reaction.

"Can you imagine how much courage it takes to get out of the truck and go into, say, Cullens, and buy a bottle of milk?

"It's like going out dressed to the nines, you have to have a great deal of courage to do that. People say, 'Isn't it odd, he's wearing a monocle'. It takes a lot of courage.

"But it's just about entertaining people and I'm bold enough to do it. Whether it's conditioned or inherent, I'm a showman and I don't want anyone to be like me.

"I've always been extra, but not in a bad way. It's the last kid in a family who gets no attention.

Fixing me in his gaze, he adds: "I'm sure you had a perception of me before you walked into this room, but it's so far from what I am.

"When I go into houses or walk somewhere and people meet me they just see a completely different person to what they expected.

"I'm just a normal guy who likes to get busy and into things. I'm no different to what I was at eight years old.

"I'm an odd character because I speak the way I do and can be very English in the old school sense. It's odd for a man of my description but I like to hear people chuckle when I speak.

"I will watch TV and look at the mannerisms so it's a matter of imperson-ating and if I can make people laugh then that's a good thing."

And this cheery ability to raise eyebrows shows no sign of abating.

For example, when I happen to casually mention that our photographer has just returned from a holiday in Ibiza, he smiles knowingly and, with his trademark lisp, says to her: "I thee, then you're a little thore."

It is Eubank's ability to surprise, both in and out of the ring, which has made him loved and loathed in equal proportion.

He is unsure what the next ten years will hold for him but is content with the successful career in the media he has established.

There is also the chance that one day he will step into the political arena - he was present at this year's Labour conference in Bournemouth and recently met a Government minister to discuss how sport could help young people.

Neither does Eubank rule out the possibility of standing for the post of directly-elected mayor of Brighton and Hove, a position which is being discussed in the town hall.

"I am an independent man so becoming an MP wouldn't really be me and I think I can be more effective as a role model who teaches by example.

"But the post of mayor is not something I would say no to, but I think there are probably people who can apply themselves to it better than I."

We decide to round-off the interview with a journey into central Brighton for a coffee.

For most people, such a trip might involve cramming into a Ford Fiesta and driving inconspicuously into The Lanes.

But subtlety is not one of Chris Eubank's favourite words, and we climb into the rig of his truck and, perched ten feet above the ground, start rolling down Western Road.

Predictably people stop and stare and when they wave, Eubank salutes them with his horn and waves back.

Turning into Ship Street, he says: "I use the truck to highlight all the charity projects I'm into. The joy it gives, I get it from the way people look at it in the street sometimes.

"It's so over the top it borders on the preposterous. But over the years it has become part of the furniture."

Slowing down to let a car pass, another person waves from somewhere down below and they get a blast on the horn in return. "All good fun," mutters our driver.

The truck comes to a halt in Meeting House Lane, Eubank cranks the gears into reverse, parks, and we pop into a cafe for an espresso. Heads turn, jaws drop and faces gawp.

And that makes Chris Eubank a very happy man indeed.