LET ME take you on a little journey from the back of York Hall, where there are always dead pigeons and discarded vapes on the floor, to the ring at the Olympics this summer in Paris.
It is, I admit, not a direct journey, but stick with me because there will be stops for dream fights and nights, wonderful cameos, highs and lows. There will be joyful debuts, some redemption and some tears. It’s a weekend of boxing and we have them every single weekend.
Last Friday, inside a sold-out York Hall, Charlie Edwards was fighting for far more than the belt on offer; Charlie was fighting for his life. And it showed. He won comfortably and looked sharp for a man who first fought for a world title nearly eight years ago.
The following night in Manchester, he was sitting near me. He had a few marks, some dark blood by a cut, but he was happy. He had his soul back and that might sound a bit grand, but it is true. In many ways, just seeing Charlie winning and smiling the following night would be a good weekend. He’s another quality British fighter in the world title mix and that is what the business always needs. There was a lot more to the weekend and some of it was not so light.
Zelfa Barrett was a boy once in the cheapest of cheap seats at the Manchester Arena. He looked up at those seats when I interviewed him in the ring. That was a moment to enjoy. Chasing dreams should be what all boxers aspire to; Zelfa is still dreaming.
Jordan Gill had nothing left at the end. We all know where he has been, we all know the darkness he visited. He’s a top man and fighter; let’s not look away for too long. He needs support now – might sound harsh, but it is true. Matchroom’s Jamie Ward, a great addition to the ringside cavalry, went with Gill to the forest where the boxer once contemplated death. That takes trust from both people. There are not always answers to the hardest questions, but there are always solutions. Be a part of the solution if you can. Gill has nothing left to prove and will always get a standing ovation when introduced at ringside; that is the type of respect that no belt can ever replace.
“I used to tell the old men in the hospital that I boxed, and they would look at me and say, ‘Yeah, so did I’. Perhaps they will believe me now,” said Rhiannon Dixon in the dressing room after winning a world title. She was beaming, the room was glowing; Ant Crolla was at the centre of the room, surrounded by his fighting brother, Will, and the Croft twins, Ioan and Garan. And Dixon, his world champion.
Crolla and Dixon had worked for a long, long time in the shadows when Joe Gallagher was at Amir Khan’s gym in Bolton. I must have filmed or recorded there a dozen times and watched her every time. She always trained so hard. No wonder Crolla was just smiling and smiling. Their dressing room was one of the happiest places on earth at about 10.30pm on Saturday night. That is not a bad stable, by the way.
At about the same time that Dixon was trying to let winning the title sink in, a man with a limp, a black hat and enough attitude to fill the ancient arena, was getting ready to walk Ellie Scotney to the ring. He had made that walk a lot and he knew what it would be like. Billy Graham, a man at the very centre of Manchester’s greatest boxing nights, held Scotney’s belt up and growled his way to the spotlight one more time. He entered like the old Billy – chest first, glaring and ready. Scotney did him proud; it was all a bit emotional if you were there with Billy and Ricky Hatton the first time around.
Scotney’s nan was a big presence in her victory dressing room. I could feel her when I was talking to Ellie; tea and biscuits and motivation. She is gone, but she will be in every dressing room going forward. There was a lot more to the three main fights than the rounds that were shown on television.
I grabbed two minutes with Jimmy Sains and we both marvelled at how brave his opponent and his opponent’s corner had been. Mateusz Kalecki had a bad, bad cut from the first round and Sains could not miss the cut, but the ringside doctor inspected the wound and let the fight continue. It finished in the fourth. We both just shook our heads. Kalecki would not quit and that is a good message to send.
The night before, in the heat of York Hall, Tom Welland moved to four wins and no defeats. He is still a baby, but he can fight and there is just a chance that he will be an Olympian this summer. It’s a long and complicated and bizarre tale, but it is true. Welland might get a call in the next week or so to travel to Bangkok for the final Olympic qualifier. Top work by John Evans to get to the heart of the tale with the details. Welland is eligble to fight for the Philippines, and they want him. I’m not inventing this stuff.
There was a lot in the weekend of fights, including the debut at York Hall of Christian Fetti. “We sold all our tickets, they had no more to give us,” said Stuart, his father. He won; the 300 fans were delighted. I’m sworn to secrecy to not reveal the love story that finished a fight elsewhere on Saturday night. What a glorious business.
