GOD BLESS YOU RICKY
Hero to a generation of British boxing fans, Ricky Hatton was boxing.
I first heard of Ricky when I worked at York Hall. Working a boxing event, there were posters being sold of this boxer who had the Lonsdale belt draped over his shoulder, “who’s that?” I asked the man selling the merch.
“Ricky Hatton mate! He’s gonna be a superstar!”
My then girlfriend’s cousin was a massive boxing fan and when I mentioned Ricky’s name they lit up and couldn’t stop talking about him. My casual fandom was intrigued and I started looking out for Hatton - I even worked at a York Hall Hatton show, though I wasn’t allowed to sit and watch… hearing the fans and seeing the buzz for him. It felt amazing to be immersed in that moment.
Hatton-mania had taken hold of me. I was walking in a Hatton wonderland. I sang Blue Moon when he’d walk to the ring even though I’m not a City fan. That song for me isn’t one from the terraces, but one from the boxing arenas cheering on the nation's hero.
It wasn’t just because he was a good boxer, he was one of us. From a working class family with working class values. He liked a pint after a fight. We loved “Ricky Fatton” just as much as we loved the Hitman; his fighting style. No nonsense, front foot boxing and those body shots. They were a thing of beauty.
Two weight world champion, lineal Light-Welterweight world champion. The invasion of Brits in Vegas. “There’s only one Ricky Hatton!”
We all saw the cracks once he tasted defeat but it wasn’t cracks in our love for him. More in his confidence and opinion of himself. That made us love him even more. He was even more like us. We knew he loved a drink and a party, just like us all. To see this superman battle his mental struggles like us all showed me that Ricky was more like me, like us, than I ever thought.
Ricky had a fall from grace, if you want to call it that, when he was outed by a scumbag tabloid for using drugs after he’d retired. He owned it, held his hands up and apologised. Another so called crack in Superman’s armour, but one that made us love him more. Our hero made mistakes, he held his hands up and accepted he was wrong and promised he’d do better. Ricky never had to make those promises, we loved him, so called faults and all.
Open about his struggles with his mental health and addictions, I think Ricky’s honesty helped hundreds, if not thousands, of people. I’d put money on there being lots of people out there who are living their lives thanks to Ricky and his work.
In the days that have passed I have seen countless stories and videos sending messages to those who were and are struggling, whether it was an adult feeling down with life or a kid who was being bullied at school.
I was lucky enough to meet and interview Ricky at a Dove Box show back in 2017, trying to stay professional while meeting your hero is a hard thing to do and looking back on it I smile thinking about how woefully I failed at keeping it classy.
“Ricky, can I have a photo after our interview?”
Not the best way to start our exchange but I couldn’t miss the chance. I full on fan-boyed the moment. I wasn’t the only one who failed to stay professional, it was almost like a Hatton meet and greet the amount he had to pose for photos. You could see a little glimmer of Ricky wanting to “just do his job” as Nathan Gorman's head coach.
He didn’t let anyone down, posing for the photos and cracking jokes with people he’d just met, making them feel comfortable and relaxed. I got the raw end with him- it was gone midnight by the time it was my turn, but Ricky still posed for photos with me and let me interview him. It is now an even more cherished memory.
If it was from the comfort of your sofa watching his fights, or you were a part of the invasions in Vegas, whether you were a part of his homecoming fight or if you were there for his crowning moment when he dethroned Tzysu, Ricky had a unique ability to make us all feel like we were a part of the journey, a part of his team. We loved those moments and we lived those highest highs with him and if you were anything like me, you lived the lows with him too.
I’m not ashamed to say that losing Ricky has left me emotional. I’m not ashamed to say I’ve shed a tear. I’ve fought my own demons and I have somewhat of an understanding of what Ricky would have felt at times. “Blue Moon, you saw me standing alone” are the opening lyrics to his song. But Ricky, you never stood alone. You had millions of fans who stood with you always. And will, always.
Since I started Southpaw Jab, I have met and befriended lots of boxers. I’ve seen how some have struggled with different aspects of their lives inside and outside of the ring. I’ve always tried to reach out to these humans if they’ve been open about their struggles. I would rather listen to someone air their issues than read an obituary.
The stigma that men shouldn’t share their thoughts and emotions is such a draconian view that it needs to be forgotten. To anyone who needs it; there are people out there to support you and I include myself in that bracket.
I finish this by saying to everyone out there, man or woman, if you are struggling please reach out to friends. To my friends and family, I am always available and willing to listen. I would take listening to your woes every day than to have to mourn you
God bless you all, God bless you Ricky.
MENTAL HEALTH CHARITIES: CALM - MIND - SAMARITANS
Comments
Post a Comment