Safe Side Of The Ropes

By: Andrew Harrison

Jun 11 2010

Category: Uncategorized

4 Comments

I’ve been out of action this week as life overtook me and put boxing onto the back burner (as terrifying as that sounds), however, I’m back in business and will attempt to catch up a week’s worth of shenanigans in a single post.

Sky’s Friday Fight Night landed in my home city last weekend as Frank Maloney laid on a British bantamweight title fight in a leisure centre in Peterlee. Despite having no takers when looking for companions, I made like Mallory in bagging a bus ride across town due more to the fact “it was there” than any great hankering on my part to see Ian ‘Dappa’ Napa tackle eight fight novice Stuart Hall.

Yet here’s the thing; not only was it one of the most entertaining small hall evenings I’ve attended recently, it also helped to dispel one of the laziest accusations still trotted out in criticism of our sport. Here’s my quick fly on the wall style take on proceedings:

As I’ve found previously when attending Maloney cards, the set up here is a good one. The cockney maestro has even splashed out on a big screen to relay the action in one corner of the hall (Cowboy Stadium eat your heart out). I arrive early and take my place just behind a deserted ringside, happy enough to people watch during the lull before kick off and earwig into conversations, many of which centre on last weekend’s cracker of a Prize Fighter tournament. Matt Bozeat from Boxing News drifts into the row of seats in front of me, waiting to collar an official to secure the participant’s weights for whichever report he’s knocking up (Matt Christie is on call for BN and is sat close to Watt and Darke at ringside). I ponder making contact with Bozeat yet, before I can hatch a good enough plan, he’s bolted into the safe haven of ringside (just two metres away but barred by a couple of mardy looking sentinels).

As the crowd filters into the hall the demographic is startling. Take away the ring and you could quite easily have mistaken it for one of the local watering holes; young girls in cocktail dresses, suitors in their finery, it’s a mini Vegas in East Durham.

Local puncher, Gary Fox kicks the night off against fellow debutant Lee Jevons of Derbyshire in a little cracker of a bout. Martin Ward, a featherweight who’s fourth up on the bill, parks up alongside me and predicts that Fox will smoke the frail looking Jevons’ boots. In the event, Fox doesn’t hinder himself in trying to block punches (other than with his face) and instead, tries to decapitate the smooth and rangy Jevons with every punch he throws. It’s enough to secure a hard fought points win by a single point.

Local heavyweight Dave Ferguson puts in his usual uninspired shift but again, Maloney has matched him competitively against the ambitious but limited John Anthony and he’s extended the full distance in victory. Unbeaten scouser John Watson stops Ben Lawler impressively in five, before Ward appears on the other side of the ropes and is made to fight hard to secure win number seven against the resilient Welshman Dai Davies, cheered home vociferously by former European super bantam boss Michael Hunter.

Hunter is well received by those in the trade and as he catches up with ringside analyst Spencer Oliver, I overhear him confirming that his boxing licence won’t be renewed as he switches his attention to teaching kids the trade at his local boys club. He departs before local lad George “Razor” Watson is gifted a decision over unbeaten Mancunian Temao Dwyer in one of the most heinous home town rip offs I’ve seen for a long while. I almost grab Dwyer on the way out to offer my condolences, but the look on his face suggests it wouldn’t help much.

Sunderland lightweight Kirk Goodings puts in a popular shift to tally his third pro win before the main event cranks into action. I’m granted a quick bit of impromptu comedy just prior to the 10pm kick off as a clearly lathered Watt and Darke take off for a break and some air, both swinging their suit jackets over their right shoulders in tandem as they depart. I’ve been joined at this point by a well oiled gent who offers me first vodka and then snuff.

“It’s not cocaine tha knars”, he reassures me.

Security become a bit tetchy at the overexuberant posse of Hall fans who’ve encroached upon ringside and reinforcements arrive en masse. Thankfully my pal calms fears of a riot by offering the head security honcho this little gem:

“Chill out man, there’s no chow (trouble) on here” he barks.

“Oh we are chilled out” replies head security honcho, trying to take the heat out of the exchange.

“Unless he loses”………my new pal sneaks in, wiping the grin off both head security honcho’s chops and yours truly’s simultaneously.

He leaps over me to pat Stuey on the back as he strides to the ring and I then have to talk him through the opening rounds as, to be fair, he’s lost a bit of cohesion. Hall starts brightly and uses his height and reach advantages to good effect as his huge horde of fans drive themselves into rapturous delirium. The fact that Napa begins to overtake their hero through the second quarter of the fight seems to have escaped them completely and I genuinely worry about their reaction should this one go to the cards.

Disaster is averted when Napa remains on his stool after eight rounds. “It was too hot”, he explains and it would appear time has been called on the little Hackney wizard’s career.

I hang around long enough to see Tony Jeffries bang out an ambitious but too small Matt Hainy in the second round, which allows me to catch the last bus home and avoid an extortionate taxi fare.

The rest of the kids in attendance, being young and all, flock to the town’s bars. Maloney’s card has reinforced the fact (for me at least) that the sport’s core audience is not comprised of sentimental middle aged men as is so often reported in the media. I’m not quite sure what Maloney did here in promoting the card, however, the average age of those in attendance (barring the always crusty looking officials) was about 25 and there were plenty of girls giving it some welly alongside the fellas. Something to throw back then, next time someone tells you the sport is “dying” and only popular with folk who are high on dental insurance and pension schemes.

• Whilst watching Miguel Cotto push himself to a decent win over Yuri Foreman mid week, his Emanuel Steward tweaked style left me puzzled as I tried to figure out who he now resembled (my spider senses were tingling). After four rounds it hit me; he looked a tad like Evander Holyfield in his movement (maybe it was the small guy-tall guy thing), check it out, see what you think.
• Cotto’s leap to light middleweight could be a shrewd move indeed. As ever, he matches up well with everyone around him and bouts against Alfredo Angulo, James Kirkland, Kermit Cintron and Antonio Margarito are all winnable for him and would furnish his reputation further.
• Where the hell is David Haye? I’m his biggest backer but unless he grabs a Klitschko fight next up, he’ll find himself taking some serious heat and might find his bandwagon one punter light.
• I’m kinda glad the schedule is bare this weekend, I’ve been haemorrhaging cash via my online betting account thanks to one dropped bollock after another of late, maybe the break will halt my slide?
• John Murray has been linked with huge fights against both Michael Katsidis and Amir Khan over the past week or two. I have a nagging feeling he’ll wind up with neither and instead be forced into a series of anonymous European title fights.
• Maloney may well be bringing a Steve Molitor-Jason Booth world super bantamweight title fight to my beloved north east next month, which would be fantastic news for the region. Frank’s dalliance with fighters from these parts (spearheaded by Jeffries but including the likes of Hall), is most welcome, long may it prosper.