THERE WAS ONLY ONE
friendship, and the honor of having called you a friend. To your beloved family, I send my deepest condolences. I share their grief because Ricky was more than a great champion; he was a true brother. May God have you in his glory. Forever my champion. Hands of Stone.” We all cried when we heard that Ricky was gone. Gone too soon, but beset by mental health issues. He was always fighting those demons, once his career was over. That’s what made it so emotional for so many of us who knew him, because he was open about struggling mentally, too. The inner torment was there. But so many memories remain. When he came out in front of 58,000 fans in the Ricky Fatton suit to fight Juan Lazcano at Manchester City’s football stadium. Because Ricky never took himself too seriously, and his ego never ran riot. In fact, I cannot recall him ever raising his voice – about anything. Famously, there were 25,000 British fans in Vegas for his night in 2007 when he fought pound-for-pound king Mayweather – both of them unbeaten, of course – and Las Vegans have never forgotten the singing, the support, and that the British boxing tourists reportedly drank the bars dry, leaving a legacy in the Mojave Desert. Ricky was a giver, a person-pleaser, and a fan-pleaser in his fights. That is why so many people offered beautiful tributes to him. Frank Warren, Amir Khan, Frank Bruno, Anthony Joshua, Andre Ward, Roy Jones Jr. and many, many others. Everyone had a story about him – all heartwarming. Reading through so many of them, it just brought tears to your eyes again and again, because no one was able to stop Ricky from leaving this life – far, far too early. Hatton was bright-eyed, humble and friendly at the start of his career. And Ricky never changed. Even a few weeks ago, talking to him about his current crop of fighters, he was still an advocate of the sport that defined him in so many of our eyes. We all have so many memories of Ricky. I recall one day with him filming a
Hatton’s beloved team, Manchester City, paid tribute to the ex-champ.
series with DAZN, where we rewatched his Mayweather fight together, and he returned to that night, still convinced he might have had more success against Floyd had referee Joe Cortez not stepped in time and again to halt Hatton’s bulldozing fighting skills. It irked him. I even had to wear the body protector that day, and he doubled me up with a punch to the midsection, to much laughter. But in truth, Ricky was hit hard by that defeat to Mayweather, and by the loss to Pacquiao in 2009. When Ricky made a comeback in 2012, against Ukrainian Vyacheslav Senchenko, he was stopped by a left-hook body shot in the ninth round and admitted honestly afterward that there was nothing left of his former bullish brilliance. In the hours after we all learned that Ricky had gone, our thoughts were for his family, his loved ones, his children and grandchildren. His parents. So many memories … going back in time, memories of being with him in the converted gym that was once a hat factory in Hyde, where he would be pounding the body protector worn by Graham. After the workout, we would sit in Graham’s heated
“office” at the back, a giant iguana walking past our heads on the back of a sofa we were sitting on … crammed in there with Ricky telling stories that made great copy for the fights ahead. I recall being invited to attend a visit from Muhammad Ali – yes, The Greatest – who came to Ricky’s gym to see him post-career. After Ali had gone, Ricky and Paul Speak – “Speaky,” the ex-policeman who was his ever-present manager for as long as I can remember – were like little kids who had just unwrapped their greatest Christmas present. The popular hero, our hero, Ricky Hatton’s laughter will echo forever through those who knew him, who followed him, who adored him. RIP Ricky. You were so special. One of a kind. And you will never be forgotten.
Gareth A Davies is boxing correspondent for The London Telegraph and Talksport.
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