Frank Bruno. My first memories of being a boxing fan and liking the sport are those mid-90s days when the leading British fighters really were household names in the proper sense, and Bruno was the most known and best-supported of them all. He was still appearing regularly on chat shows and in panto etc. around 1995-96, so was an easy face and character for a young lad to get behind. Obviously at that stage I was totally oblivious to his lovable loser image in some quarters and had no appreciation that the likes of Rodolfo Marin and Mike Evans (I remember that one pretty clearly, as it was on my 7th birthday and I was allowed to stay up a bit later to watch it) were journeyman who were there to be knocked over to give Frank an easy win. I just saw him as an unbeatable monster who knocked out whoever he landed on, and I was in awe of him. He was also the subject of the first boxing book I ever owned and read: Champion of the World! The Frank Bruno Story by Malcolm Severs which was released a few weeks after his win over McCall. Obviously not the most intellectual of stuff and cobbled together on the quick and cheap, but I read it cover to cover loads of times in the first couple of years that I had it. To say I was gutted when I saw Tyson hammer him in March 1996 would be an understatement! Had to wait until 2008 to meet him, but even then I was a bit overawed. I guess you never quite get over your first (boxing) love!
An interesting story my dad likes to tell guests when we speak about boxing is that I watched both Hatton vs Mayweather and Hatton vs Pacquiao. He said even tho I had no idea what was going on and I was no older than 6 for either he'd wake me up, sit me on his lap with his mates there and watch the fights with me.
Sugar Ray Leonard, got an autographed pair of gloves of his when I was younger. Loved his machine gun combinations and that was probably when I really became a lifelong fan of the sport. Ironically, I'd probably say I'm more of a Duran fan at this point. I'd also give an honorable mention to Ali, as far as heavies go, but there's no story behind that.
Hagler. As an 80's kid, he was the benchmark for me. Oddly though, he didn't really represent his era. He was a true throwback, a touchstone to a different time. As one who ordered back issues of boxing magazines and voraciously read anything he could about boxing history, he was the one guy I could point to from that era and say that I was watching living, breathing history as it happened. Looking back now of course, they were ALL history in the making but no one ever thinks of it like that in real time. But Hagler was my guy, yeah. He represented an independent and solitary nature that appealed to me. I couldn't stand the flashier Hearns, who was part of a "team." I disdained any notion of boxing being a team sport, and hated the Kronkites. They reminded me of Team Cobra-Kai from the Karate Kid films. Hagler was the lone cowboy, the one confident enough to stand alone. I was overjoyed when he left Hearns puddling on the canvas that night in 1985. It was like winning the World Series to me.
I was 8 I think. I used to spend summers at my grandparents while my parents worked. I knew my grandfather was a boxing fan, not that I knew what that meant. He and my brother would stay up after I had to go to bed at 9. Even then I was an insomniac. I could hear them, upstairs in the living room. Yelling and screaming. I was awake, reading something or other as always, listening to them. I wanted in. So I did what any determined 8 year old does when they want something they can't have. I made a massive pain in the ass of myself. Begged him all week to let me stay up. Can I stay up with you guys? Can I stay up with you guys? Can I stay up with you guys? Can I stay up with you guys? Can I stay up with you guys? Until my annoying determination wore down the ex-marine. So finally he gives in. Gives me 3 rules. 1. Don't do what you see. 2. One question per round. 3. Don't tell your mom. Saturday rolls around. My grandfather and his neighbor an old war buddy by the name of Bill would sit out in the swing in the back yard. They got to taking about the fights on that night. 3 names mattered. Chavez, Holyfield and Tyson. And according to my grandfather "Tyson is a jerk". The two old marines tried to moderate their swearing, because I was 8 an all, but fat lotta ****ing good that did. The night rolls around, and what I saw changed me. Because that night was June 28th, 1997. That was probably the most confusing night of my life. I had a ton of questions I wanted to ask. But that damned 2nd rule. Over the course of the night I learn the rules, round by round, asking my questions. Basic stuff. What's a jab? What's a hook? uppercut? Slip? Weave? all over the course of the night. Until finally I saw Mike Tyson bit Evander Holyfield. Ear missing, bleeding. Mills Lane calling bull****. I had a question. "Why didn't anybody else think of that?" I watched about 8 fights that night. Not one of the fighters, not even the supposedly great Chavez, had though to just bite the mother ****er. It made so much more sense. It seemed way more effective than punching. I though Mike had just revolutionized the sport. My grandfather smiled at the question but was too confused and shocked to actually answer. But for about a week I thought this happened all the time. As he put me to bed that night he reiterated the rules he'd laid out. "Don't tell your mom and don't ever let me catch you doing that to somebody or you'll get it back worse." I asked why he didn't answer my question before. We forgot what it was. It didn't matter anyway, the fleeting curiosity of an 8 year old comes and goes. I had a new question anyway. "Can I stay up next week?"
Marco Antonio Barrera, had always admired him after the wars with McKinney and Morales but that night when he whooped the little bully Hamed was special.
Tommy Loughran. My dad spent time attending his public training sessions in the Scranton Pa area back in the early 1930’s and described his fighting style to me many years before I ever watched him on film. His memories made Loughran in terms of his style, skills and public persona my boxing hero.
The original Body and Soul movie was made back in the 1940’s with the great John Garfield as the lead character. Great movie. The one movie I think of in terms of boxing is another great John Garfield performance “They made me a criminal” with the dead end kids from 1939. If you get the chance catch it. “Southpaw huh?”
I started watching around the Holyfield-Bowe series. I liked Holyfield a lot but I’d have to see Felix Trinidad was the first fighter I looked at as a “hero” or something.
Frank Bruno. He was everywhere over here and so was the monster, Mike Tyson. The idea that Bruno was going to beat him was crazy but kind of beautiful. I also loved Michael Watson. He was so different to the bombast and madness of Eubank and Benn.
Jack Dempsey got me into boxing when I first saw him maul jess Willard years back when I had free time at my security job, but my dad did use to box and introduced it to me as a kid, So him too.
