When Manchester’s Pat Brown turned professional back in March, Ricky Hatton was still alive. He was alive to see, and to hear, and to touch, and he was alive in Pat Brown that night in Altrincham, where Brown’s ring walk alone evoked memories of “The Hitman” 25 years ago.
It was, for a pro debut, quite the racket; quite the spectacle. It suggested Manchester had a new boxing hero to embrace, someone whose style and personality would make comparisons to Hatton inevitable, perhaps even obvious. Nobody dared question the song – there was still only one Ricky Hatton – but, in Brown, British boxing appeared to now have the closest thing to a tribute act worth paying to see.
“I was definitely nervous,” said Brown, recalling his debut nine months later. “I’d never even tried on professional gloves before, so even that was nerve-wracking. But the whole occasion was great. I rammed the place out and was in against an experienced fighter [Federico Grandone] who had won titles and been in with serious contenders as a cruiserweight. He was no mug.
“When I was an amateur and boxing the best in the world, I was just cracking on with the job and not thinking about any outside noise – just get in the ring and fight. But with the pros it’s different. It’s entertainment. For that debut, I had to remind myself it’s still just two fighters getting into a ring and fighting because it gets built up so much that it can feel like it has become something else.”
Immediately, thanks to both the noise generated inside Planet Ice and his fourth-round stoppage win, Brown’s view of his sport had changed. Suddenly there was no escaping the hype, the pressure, the expectation. One fight in and there were already comparisons to Ricky Hatton, the man he grew up admiring and to whom he had for years felt so close. One fight in and they were already talking less about what he had just done and more about what he could do next and how far Pat Brown, a 2024 Olympian, could go as a professional cruiserweight.
“It’s a dream come true to be compared to Ricky,” Brown said. “He was my first,” he added, meaning favourite fighter – though it could also mean love. “I always idolised him. I remember watching his fights with [Manny] Pacquiao and [Floyd] Mayweather when I was about seven or eight and I was really attached to him. I stayed up with my dad and cried my eyes out when he lost.
“He [Hatton] was an amateur at my club Sale West, so we share that bit of history, which is nice. A lot of people who are helping me out now, in terms of my inner circle, once helped Ricky out – sponsorship-wise and stuff like that. I felt very close to him. He knew my dad as well, and my uncle. He used to box with them when they were younger. Ricky was a lot younger than them, only a kid really, but there’s a lot of crossover between us, yeah.”
His voice faded out after that, perhaps because he remembered that his last two fights – wins against Austine Nnamdi and Felix Valera – were secured with Hatton no longer alive. He remains alive inside Pat Brown, of course, but what also remains lodged inside Pat Brown is the pain of losing one of his heroes so unexpectedly in September. That pain just sits there, a dull ache. It reminds him of how precious both his career and his life is and how important it is for him to take his duty, as a fighter from Manchester, seriously. It’s bigger than him now, you feel. Then again, maybe it always has been.
**
When Pat Brown first went to the gym at the age of seven, the plan, in theory, was for boxing to stop his fidgeting. He was, he said, a hyperactive child full of energy, and his father, himself a one-time fighter, saw no better way to curb his tendencies – or just control them – than by taking him to Sale West ABC (Amateur Boxing Club), many years earlier than club rules permitted.
“I had boundless energy,” Brown recalled. “I was a bit of a nightmare really. I was never rude or anything – my dad always brought me up with manners – but I just couldn’t concentrate. I wanted to always be in competition and all that.
“I knew most of the older lads [in the gym], because where I live, in Sale, everyone knows everyone, and so it wasn’t uncomfortable or anything walking in on that first day. Dad then took me every Tuesday and Thursday, seven o’clock to half eight.”
If Ricky Hatton is Brown’s second biggest hero, there can be no disputing the identity of his first. That would be Brown’s dad, Mike, whose dedication to his son’s passion has been more impactful than anything else Brown has experienced along the way. It was also from his father that Brown found the inspiration for his fighting nickname.
“I used to play rugby and football as well, so we were going everywhere, just me and my dad,” he said. “I absolutely loved it. He put all his time and effort into his kids – I’ve got two brothers and he does the same with them. Without my dad I definitely wouldn’t be where I am today. Even on days when I didn’t want to go training, he would make me go. He would see right through me. He knew I just wanted to play PlayStation with my mates.
“My dad used to box when he was younger but only had about 12 fights. He had more of a reputation for fisticuffs, to be fair. He always stuck by a code: never be a bully and that, but if someone’s in trouble, don’t be bullied. He never went looking for a fight or anything, but I think, with that generation in the pubs back in the day, there weren’t knives getting thrown about… people just had a straightener, didn’t they? He had a reputation for having a bit of a dig on him and people used to call him ‘Bomber’. That’s where my nickname comes from.”
Quite the athlete, Brown juggled all manner of sports – boxing, football, rugby, cross country – until the age 14, which is when he had a decision to make. It was then he realised that keeping his weight low for boxing but needing it to be high for rugby would never work and that the two sports could never share a bed. It was then that he realised he wanted to sign up for a life of sacrifice and small portions.
“I’m reminding myself now of what I sacrificed,” he said. “When every other kid was getting those Pasta Kings and those big paninis, and fish and chips on a Friday, I was there with my plastic tub of plain rice, and a bit of chicken – no sauce. When I look back now and see a little kid at school doing that, that’s what makes me realise how hungry I am for this. I just wanted to make my dad proud.”
**
After knocking out Felix Valera with a devastating right hand in round two of a fight in Orlando last month, Pat Brown used his post-fight interview as an opportunity to pay tribute to his father and all he had done for him over the years. He said that more than just happy with his latest victory – his fifth as a pro – he was delighted to have been able to see his father’s face when sitting in business class on the flight from England to Orlando and to see that same face – beaming, proud – all week around the hotel.
“Obviously my dad is dead old-school, a hard-working man, and had never been to America, and never done business class or anything like that,” Brown explained. “So my main enjoyment that week was just seeing him smile. That was his reward for everything he has done for me. It was a dream just to give that to my dad and see him living the life of Riley for a week. That was the best bit of the trip.”
As for the result itself, Brown, in typically modest fashion, said: “It was all right. Me and Jamie [Moore, Brown’s coach] thought I’d probably get to round six or seven and start turning the screw and get him out of there.”
But no. In the end, they were wrong – and happy to be. Rather than long and arduous, the fight with Valera was instead relatively simple, and the explosive nature of the finish in round two kicked the hype machine into overdrive. It was fuelled, as always, by the wide eyes and flappy hands of Brown’s promoter, Eddie Hearn.
“I’ve been dealing with Eddie for 10 years now, with various fighters, and I haven’t seen him this excited since [Anthony] Joshua turned over,” said Jamie Moore, Brown’s coach. “I’ve said to him [Brown] from day one that he’s got to anticipate that this is going to blow up. I said, ‘Part of the reason is you’re such a nice, humble, down-to-earth kid, you’re not a bad-looking lad, and you can absolutely fight like fuck. You’ve got all the attributes to make you likeable. You’re not annoying, you won’t rub people up the wrong way, you’ll get a lot of attention. But the most important thing is that you don’t get carried away with it.’
“After every fight I compliment him and tell him everything he has done good and could have done better, but I am always quick to say, ‘Don’t get carried away with this. Keep your feet on the ground.’ After his last fight [against Valera] we had a couple of beers in this sports bar and I said to him, ‘Listen, you’ve had an unbelievable start to your career, and everything has gone perfect. But at some point, we’re going to be stood here like this, and you’re going to be saying, “Fucking hell, I’m pissed off with myself. That was so shit.” Because it happens to everyone. I would rather say this to you now, so that when it does happen – and it will – I’ll be able to say to you, “Remember when we were in Florida and I said what I said about this moment? Don’t worry about it. It happens to everyone. It’s all part of the learning curve.”’
“I’m planting those little seeds,” said Moore, “just so he doesn’t put too much pressure on himself to impress every time. I’m not teaching Pat how to throw a fucking left hook to the body. He can already do that. I’m teaching him how to control his mind and handle the pressure. If I can help him pre-empt certain scenarios, thanks to my own experience, he can go to those places in his head before we find ourselves there in reality.”
If ever you doubted the benefits of having a coach who has been there before, and been to places their fighter has yet to visit, just think about the weight of Jamie Moore’s words in relation to Pat Brown. Moore, after all, has experienced most of what boxing has to offer in an 11-year professional career, during which he won British, Commonwealth and European titles. He knows what it means to win fights and to lose them. He knows the pain. The pain of the punches. The pain of defeat. The pain of the criticism. He has not only belts and scars as proof, but, more importantly, the mechanisms to cope.
“I’ve seen comments on social media saying Pat gets hit too much and needs to work on his defence, but you just can’t win,” said Moore. “Pat’s best attributes are his punching power, his timing, and a phenomenal chin. I’m not saying we’ve neglected defence, but at this stage in his career he isn’t worried about what is coming back. That doesn’t mean he won’t be ready for that threat when it arrives, and it doesn’t mean that he isn’t developing the skills to deal with it in the gym every day and sparring top-class cruiserweights who do offer that threat.
“If you watch his fights, he’ll always start slow – which is what he did in the Olympics, and why he got pipped – but as soon as his opponent tries to capitalise on that slow start, his timing is so good, and his judgement of distance is so good, he’ll sink one in, usually downstairs. Instantly they’re like, ‘Oh fuck, that was a mistake.’ He’s on the front foot then and starts to go through the gears. He’s like a lion going out to fucking hunt. It’s going to take some fighter to give him problems, I’ll tell you.”
Such is the ease with which Brown is punching through opponents, he has already brushed aside five of them in the space of just seven months. That, for a modern-day prospect, is almost unheard of, and a testament to both his ambition – that is, his urgency – and heavy hands. In fact, with a working man’s hands and shoulders, it’s no wonder Brown is making light of supposedly tough assignments.
“I’ve always had snap in my punches,” he said, with his record currently 5-0 (5 KOs). “When I was scaffolding, people would say, ‘That’ll put the weight on you,’ and it definitely did. But I’ve always been a strong lad. I’ve never not been capable of getting out of certain situations.”
Moore chose the word “terrifying” to describe his man’s power and suggested that every young fighter should take up scaffolding as a means of improving theirs. That idea amused Brown, who explained, “I was scaffolding during Covid. I was actually a labourer, so I was the dog at the bottom getting all the kit. It was rough, very rough. I was working every day, seven days a week, and didn’t have a day off in weeks. Then I was also boxing. So, my life was just: wake up early, do the scaffolding, get home, have an hour’s sleep, then drag myself to the gym. I would be so physically and mentally drained. But that was my routine.”
**
As well as a man of strict routine, Pat Brown, now 26, is a creature of habit. In the ring, he likes to set his feet, find his range, and get comfortable with a cursory look. Away from the ring, meanwhile, he likes to see familiar sights and hear familiar voices.
“When I was training [with Team GB] in Sheffield, Monday to Thursday, I enjoyed it, don’t get me wrong, but I couldn’t wait to get back home,” he said of his time as an Olympic-standard amateur. “I love Manchester. It will always be my home. Me training out of Manchester makes me a happy man. I’m living the dream. If I was training in London and staying there all week, I wouldn’t be a happy fighter. Some people will say, ‘Yeah, but you’ve got to be tough; it’s a tough sport.’ But it’s tough enough as it is, so why make it even tougher? With Jamie and Nigel [Travis], I know they’ve got my best interests at heart and I know what sort of people they are. They’re family men. I trust them.”
Chances are Brown’s affinity for England, and particularly Manchester, will only help to endear him to fans as he progresses through the ranks and builds his profile. It will also keep him grounded, one suspects, which, in the long run, will be just as key. After all, to know where one’s home is and understand its importance is what usually precludes getting carried with oneself or losing sight of what matters.
“I’ve always wanted to go down the traditional route – English title, British title, European, then world,” said Brown. “Do that and no stone is getting left. People can’t question you then.
“I actually read something that Ricky [Hatton] said, and it was something along the lines of: ‘Too many fighters have too much to say and try to chase a following, but I have proved myself as a boxer first. All that – the attention, the following – has come afterwards.’ He’s speaking facts. That’s what it’s all about. People try to cut corners, con the public, chase clout, but none of that interests me. I want to prove myself as a boxer first. That’s why I’m not big on social media. I’m prepared to let my boxing do the talking. I believe in myself to do that. I believe it will take me where I need to go.”
Which is where exactly? Las Vegas? New York? Riyadh? Or just the top?
“I loved going to America, don’t get me wrong, but I love fighting in Manchester,” Brown said. “I absolutely love it. We live for it, here. It’s beautiful. It’s my home. I will never leave. Never ever.”
Funnily enough, Ricky Hatton might have once said that, too.
