BoxRec

I came up the hard way, I came against all the trickest tasks, from the most relentless punching welterweights I ever saw in Eric Holland and Michael Justin, to tackling cruiserweights on a few hours notice a few weeks apart, to the most awkward southpaw stance I ever saw in my fifth fight, and then taking on a world-rated middleweight after just 11 fights. All the while living out of one room and working day jobs to make ends meet. I dug deep and won all my fights and came out and got signed up by the wisest promoter of all, in Barry Hearn.

I had traded punches around the gyms of New York City with the best amateur boxers in the United States, like Milton and Breland and Ramos and Rivera, as a modest English teenager, and that brings you on, but not only that, but the style of sparring in New York - where gym fights were expected to be life-and-death affairs, where sparring was expected to be fistic warfare on a merciless scale; the only way to truly learn.

When I came back to the United Kingdom, the ABA champions Rod Douglas and John Beckles were physically the strongest amateur-come-professionals in the game and I did sparring with them, I did sparring with Errol Christie who had everything other than durability underneath 16oz gloves and head gear, and Herol Graham who was the best I ever saw at avoiding punches. All this phenonemal sparring was paramount. You learn so much when you pitch your big toes into the canvas, bite down on your mouth piece and throw punches with top gym fighters.

The toughest man I ever fought in terms of absorbance was Eduardo Contreras from Argentina. I hit his head with two tonnes of force 500 times and he wasn't phased. He was also very elusive and very evasive, and hardly threw a punch; so it was the most frustrating night I ever spent in Brighton or Hove in my life.

(Nigel) Benn was a phenomenal power puncher, he was taking guys off their feet in a round or two right the way up to the toughest New Yorker in the world in (Iran) Barkley. He became the No. 1 middleweight in late 1990, after the other world middleweight champions struggled with the men Benn blasted out. Barry Hearn got the right fight at the right time for me and I knew the world was my oyster if I beat Benn.

I figured that he could only knock me out, and I figured that since I had never even been put down in my life, I had a better chance than any of enduring any punch he gets in. He had only fought men who stood in front of him; so I used the ring generalship, moving and dancing. I bypassed my jab to earn his respect and kept my hands at stomach-height to throw him off.

It was a tactical triumph and also one of determination, because he hurt me like no man had hurt me before and I battled through the pain barriers to wait for the moment I had subconsciously expected as an exhausted recluse for 80% of the 80s. I was as tunnel-visioned and objective as any young man could possibly be for so many years running that Benn - the playboy and golden boy - really had no idea what he had got himself into until it was too late.

Dan Sherry and Gary Stretch were tall, young, undefeated guys with fast hands, awkward movement and difficult stances and who had never visited the canvas. But I out-fought and out-strengthed them both. Then came the two (Michael) Watson fights, which we won't go into today. Sugar Boy Malinga was a fine, defensively compact, long-armed boxer whom I out-sped and out-manuevered and also dropped and nearly stopped. Malinga had never visited the canvas.

Over my next five fights, I felt like I had mastered boxing. I was world champion, 35-0-0, and recently purchased a twin mansion, married with two children and a third on the way. I was only 26. I just trained harder than everyone else and had done for 10 years.

The Benn rematch was a thing where, you know, in my head I have already beaten this man - conquered him. All he can do is punch. I know I can take his punch. What I didn't expect was for him to use tactical maturity and elusive defensive evasions prior to launch. He did good. I came in heavy and sluggish, but that's no excuse for underestimating Nigel that night. 43,000 fans paid millions of pounds to see us in the flesh, when they could so easily have watched for free, and that mass of faces that looked like even more on the night really threw me off. It was a fair draw and I had no complaints.

Why or how (Steve) Collins threw me off had nothing to do with claims of hypnotism or silly stunts. It was merely a racial thing. He made what I perceieved as a racist remark, and I hated him for it. I had succeeded in all 43 of my previous fights because I let the opponent be subjective as I remained objective. Collins was the first guy to make me go into the ring being subjective and that's why I lost.

The masses hated me for so many years when I was winning, and it's the way my cookie crumbled that I had to come back and take my beatings and losses to gain the respect I always craved. I liken the (Joe) Calzaghe and (Carl) Thompson fights to that scene in the movie One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest where Jack Nicholson's character tries to pull that heavy, bolted-down sink out of the floor and throw it out the window so he can escape the nut house and go and watch the World Series. You want him to succeed so badly, but as hard as he tries, he simply can't. That was the scene that made him.

curtis wood wrote:love eubank, that was my era growing up watching him, they dony make em like that anymore, when i hear promoters saying this is another benn eubank i think to myself dream on pal

bengulnaci1 wrote:

curtis wood wrote:love eubank, that was my era growing up watching him, they dony make em like that anymore, when i hear promoters saying this is another benn eubank i think to myself dream on pal

Hahe so true. They love saying all that as that is what the public remembers, but you can never repeat them. Love them both, two of my favourite fighters ever.

curtis wood wrote:lets be honest nobody outside the boxing world know who any of the british fighters are, i keep hearing about if the middleweights all fought it would be like benn eubank all over again, it makes me chuckle, them days will never come back aslong as bbc and itv snub boxing, back in the eubank benn build up everybody had a oponion on the fight because everybody knew both fighters and had seen them come through the ranks on bbc or itv, if i asked 90% of people who they fancied if quigg fought frampton or maklin v barker they wouldnt have a clue who i was talking about, boxing is a minority sport and will continue to be until it gets back on terrestrial t.v, its sad but its just the way it is imo

coghaugen11 wrote:

I came up the hard way, I came against all the trickest tasks, from the most relentless punching welterweights I ever saw in Eric Holland and Michael Justin, to tackling cruiserweights on a few hours notice a few weeks apart, to the most awkward southpaw stance I ever saw in my fifth fight, and then taking on a world-rated middleweight after just 11 fights. All the while living out of one room and working day jobs to make ends meet. I dug deep and won all my fights and came out and got signed up by the wisest promoter of all, in Barry Hearn.

I had traded punches around the gyms of New York City with the best amateur boxers in the United States, like Milton and Breland and Ramos and Rivera, as a modest English teenager, and that brings you on, but not only that, but the style of sparring in New York - where gym fights were expected to be life-and-death affairs, where sparring was expected to be fistic warfare on a merciless scale; the only way to truly learn.

When I came back to the United Kingdom, the ABA champions Rod Douglas and John Beckles were physically the strongest amateur-come-professionals in the game and I did sparring with them, I did sparring with Errol Christie who had everything other than durability underneath 16oz gloves and head gear, and Herol Graham who was the best I ever saw at avoiding punches. All this phenonemal sparring was paramount. You learn so much when you pitch your big toes into the canvas, bite down on your mouth piece and throw punches with top gym fighters.

The toughest man I ever fought in terms of absorbance was Eduardo Contreras from Argentina. I hit his head with two tonnes of force 500 times and he wasn't phased. He was also very elusive and very evasive, and hardly threw a punch; so it was the most frustrating night I ever spent in Brighton or Hove in my life.

(Nigel) Benn was a phenomenal power puncher, he was taking guys off their feet in a round or two right the way up to the toughest New Yorker in the world in (Iran) Barkley. He became the No. 1 middleweight in late 1990, after the other world middleweight champions struggled with the men Benn blasted out. Barry Hearn got the right fight at the right time for me and I knew the world was my oyster if I beat Benn.

I figured that he could only knock me out, and I figured that since I had never even been put down in my life, I had a better chance than any of enduring any punch he gets in. He had only fought men who stood in front of him; so I used the ring generalship, moving and dancing. I bypassed my jab to earn his respect and kept my hands at stomach-height to throw him off.

It was a tactical triumph and also one of determination, because he hurt me like no man had hurt me before and I battled through the pain barriers to wait for the moment I had subconsciously expected as an exhausted recluse for 80% of the 80s. I was as tunnel-visioned and objective as any young man could possibly be for so many years running that Benn - the playboy and golden boy - really had no idea what he had got himself into until it was too late.

Dan Sherry and Gary Stretch were tall, young, undefeated guys with fast hands, awkward movement and difficult stances and who had never visited the canvas. But I out-fought and out-strengthed them both. Then came the two (Michael) Watson fights, which we won't go into today. Sugar Boy Malinga was a fine, defensively compact, long-armed boxer whom I out-sped and out-manuevered and also dropped and nearly stopped. Malinga had never visited the canvas.

Over my next five fights, I felt like I had mastered boxing. I was world champion, 35-0-0, and recently purchased a twin mansion, married with two children and a third on the way. I was only 26. I just trained harder than everyone else and had done for 10 years.

The Benn rematch was a thing where, you know, in my head I have already beaten this man - conquered him. All he can do is punch. I know I can take his punch. What I didn't expect was for him to use tactical maturity and elusive defensive evasions prior to launch. He did good. I came in heavy and sluggish, but that's no excuse for underestimating Nigel that night. 43,000 fans paid millions of pounds to see us in the flesh, when they could so easily have watched for free, and that mass of faces that looked like even more on the night really threw me off. It was a fair draw and I had no complaints.

Why or how (Steve) Collins threw me off had nothing to do with claims of hypnotism or silly stunts. It was merely a racial thing. He made what I perceieved as a racist remark, and I hated him for it. I had succeeded in all 43 of my previous fights because I let the opponent be subjective as I remained objective. Collins was the first guy to make me go into the ring being subjective and that's why I lost.

The masses hated me for so many years when I was winning, and it's the way my cookie crumbled that I had to come back and take my beatings and losses to gain the respect I always craved. I liken the (Joe) Calzaghe and (Carl) Thompson fights to that scene in the movie One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest where Jack Nicholson's character tries to pull that heavy, bolted-down sink out of the floor and throw it out the window so he can escape the nut house and go and watch the World Series. You want him to succeed so badly, but as hard as he tries, he simply can't. That was the scene that made him.

Leddgend!!

Adamj1987 wrote:

curtis wood wrote:lets be honest nobody outside the boxing world know who any of the british fighters are, i keep hearing about if the middleweights all fought it would be like benn eubank all over again, it makes me chuckle, them days will never come back aslong as bbc and itv snub boxing, back in the eubank benn build up everybody had a oponion on the fight because everybody knew both fighters and had seen them come through the ranks on bbc or itv, if i asked 90% of people who they fancied if quigg fought frampton or maklin v barker they wouldnt have a clue who i was talking about, boxing is a minority sport and will continue to be until it gets back on terrestrial t.v, its sad but its just the way it is imo

Its sad to say but everything you said is true with the current exceptions being khan and fury. Everyone seems to know those 2 names.

The news that 5 arepulling out of european cup footballand putting it into boxing sounds great hope they keep at it and expand past just fury and eubank jr.

Get the boxing on a sat evening about 8pm when most football has finished and put ona few decent fights and the ratingswould be huge IMO

nobby_nobbins wrote:Benn Eubank 1 was the greatest fight I've ever seen but I disagree that Eubank is a legend. He was content to turn his career into a pantomime act, defending a third rate belt against sub par opponents. In most of those bouts he was merely going through the motions, concentrating more on preening himself and performing than fighting. He was a savage, dazzling talent as a contender on the way up but a fraudster and a joke as a champion.

As a boxer, he had an excellent jab and devastating right hand but his left hook usually landed with the force of a limply flung dish rag. He moved efficiently around the ring with his quirky, crab-like shuffle, wasting less energy than many of his opponents who hopped around all the time, but he was quite easy to knock off balance. He was and still is a strange character who spouts amusing nonsense at the drop of a hat.