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THE BENN-EUBANK-WATSON RIVALRY
By Adeyinka Makinde
28.09 - "I'll hit him with so many lefts, he'll by crying for a right." Nigel Benn warning Michael Watson what to expect during their fight.
"If I don't get respect from Nigel Benn out of the ring, I certainly will get it inside" Michael Watson's retort.
"Boxing is a mugs game" Chris Eubank.
These statements sum up the respective personas of the participants in one of British boxings most compelling rivalries. Eubank, provocative, lispingly verbose, dapper, haughty and overtly pretentious, was the antithesis of the snarling, unabashedly brutal mien of Benn and both men, brash and flashy by nature, contrasted sharply with Watson, an uncomplicated man of reserved disposition.
The protagonists, Benn the son of Barbadian immigrants and the others, sons of Jamaicans, came of fighting age at a period in history when black fighter's were firmly entrenched in the British game and accepted as home grown stars. The mixed race Turpin brothers, **** and Randolph were stars in the wake of the post-war abrogation of the so-called colour bar through which the right to fight for a British title was delimited to those of wholly Anglo or Celtic stock, but they were the exception. Then came the era of the double-tax and the ensuing recession in the boxing game was alleviated by the role of immigrant fighters from the new commonwealth: West Africans, South Africans, West Indians and Antipodeans they came from the far flung corners of the setting Empire. The Nigerians Hogan Bassey and **** Tiger blossomed in the English North West fight axis of Liverpool, Blackpool and West Hartlepool winning huge local support and later, world honours.
Yet a long road still needed to be travelled. Black fighters, promoters were wont to say simply did not 'draw' at the box office. The most marketable bouts were British title fights and in the 1960's and early 1970's few, if any, of the newly immigrant young Black British fighters were entitled to fight for Lord Lonsdale's belts given the British Boxing Board of Control's edict that they satisfy a lengthy residency requirement. However, the middling and later part of the 1970's saw the emergence of the likes of Maurice Hope, John Conteh, Dennis Andries and Kirkland Laing and by the middle 1980's Frank Bruno, a Da Vincian sculptured though limited heavyweight was on his way to becoming a beloved national figure. But while Bruno's unthreatening, ****ney court jesters routine echoed for some an uncomfortably demeaning, 'Steppin' Fetchit'-like caricature of black docility, Eubank and Benn brought with them a refreshing study of personalities. Watson too, with his quiet articulate ambience appeared to be, well, a regular guy. Eubank and Benn however, demanded the limelight and both men got it. Benn was decidedly a flashy sort of person who dressed expensively and drove a Porsche around London. He was tremendously ambitious and together with his manager, Ambrose Mendy, reflected the materialistic and acquisitive tendencies of the young upwardly mobile in Thatcherite Britain of the 1980's. With his clipped, upper class tones and sartorial tastes in monocles and jodhpurs, Eubank was a pugilist like none before him. He waxed philosophy and agitated both opponents and fans like none had before him. But while he got up most peoples backs, he ran away with a pot full of cash to the bank, by shrewdly exploited a marketing tactic epitomized by a boastful American wrestler known as Gorgeous George who was a major influence on no less a figure than Cassius Clay: the customers will pay top dollar to see the downfall of an obnoxious fighter. Benn, also attracted the fans, who relished the aplomb with which he separated his opponents from their conscious states of mind.
Nigel Benn, though from a family headed by hardworking parents, was a juvenile delinquent ran amok. It was a four-year tenure as a soldier in the Royal Fusiliers, which he credits as the turning point in his life. In the Army, he was forced to cultivate an ethic, which prioritised the need for self discipline. He took up boxing representing his regiment in Army tournaments and later in the ABA's, the pre-eminent British Amateur boxing competition. His first twenty-two professional bouts ended in knock out, most of them in the early stages. Benn brought undoubted excitement to his fights, his punches pole axing a succession of challengers. Lethal left hooks, robust right uppercuts, swinging right crosses; they all were capable of rendering an opponent senseless. He was careless though, fighting sometimes with such reckless abandon that some opponents succeeded in tagging him and very nearly came close to knocking him out. This happened during a fight in October 1988 with one Anthony Logan. Be that as it may, what heightened his appeal was that he appeared to be most dangerous when hurt. Logan, for all the inconvenience caused, ended up unconscious on the ring canvas.
The boxing game, no matter its geographic stage, is apt at producing punchers of remarkable devastating power. They build up impressive records that create an impression of apparent invulnerability. But the underlying reality of quality of opposition tells the true story. This is true of Benns case. He admitted as much when he referred to the bulk of his opposition as "Mexican road sweepers." Yet, for all his shortcomings of lacking concentration and of having a suspect chin, many felt that the murderous degree of power he held in his fists was enough to threaten even the best middleweights.
Casting their eyes around for suitable homegrown opposition, Benns handlers had few to choose from. It is always a coup for an up and coming fighter to make a victim out of a fading 'name' fighter. But the era of Minter and Sibson was long over and Mark Kaylor had moved up to the light heavyweight division. However, among those of Benn's generation, Michael Watson, who like Benn had received a world title contender ranking by the World Boxing Council, provided the most visible opponent of substance. He was someone who could test Benn.
Born in North London, one year after Benn, Watson started his career at the Islington Amateur Boxing Club situated in Archway. He had impressed onlookers at the National Association of Boys Club Tournament. As a professional, he had generally fought opponents of decidedly higher calibre than Benns. He had gained some valued experience fighting in America where he drew with one Israel Cole. The one blemish in his twenty-three-fight career was a point's loss to James Cook in 1986.
A fight was set up. Both men were so very different; Benn's loudness and brashness sharply contrasting with Watson's reticence and apparent humility. Benn was of course a puncher while Watson was a counter puncher, a thoughtful boxer, seriously dedicated to his craft. There was unsurprisingly some needle between both. Watson, who became irritated at Benn's bragging, felt his opponent was building his ego in order to camouflage his insecurities. While training for the bout, he told a national paper about a chance encounter with Benn at a late night gathering both men attended. Both fighters, although only too aware of the presence of the other maintained a wide berth. For a short period only, both eyes surveyed the other and according to Watson, Benn's eyes were the first to blink -he cast his head down to avert Watson's gaze, a sign, Watson was convinced, of Benn's fear. When Benn heard of this, he exploded in a rage. Far from being afraid, he was going to prove the contrary once they both stepped into the ring by knocking him out.
Both men trained hard. But Watson appeared to train the harder. While Benn completed only a miniscule regime of sparring sessions, Watson's team hired the experienced American middleweight, Willie Scypion who had unsuccessfully challenged for Marvin Hagler's middleweight championship in 1983. He knew that he could never hope to match Benn for brutality of punch, so Watson's strategy was to focus on developing defensive strategies and outbox him.
A circus style venue, dubbed the super tent, was erected in North London's Finsbury Park. The excitement on the night of the fight, 21st May 1989, was palpable both to attendees and viewers on national television where it was broadcast live. The rituals to the build up were flamboyantly staged and focussed on Benn who, along with his handlers, were treating the whole event as the prelude to some sort of coronation. Watson was aware of this, having conceded top billing to the superior box office appeal of Benn whom the bookmakers favoured at three to one. He would enter the ring first, but his manager Mickey Duff had warned the Benn camp that Watson would leave the ring if their pre-fight festivities went on longer than two minutes.
A tackily designed stage door, inscribed with the words BENN IS BAD (in the graffiti art style of Michael Jackson's album 'Bad') was to be Benn's point of introduction. First out was a marching detachment of soldiers from Benn's old army regiment, the Royal Fusiliers. They lined up on either side of the path leading to the ring to form a sort of guard of honour. Then four long legged beauties bearing the Union Jack emerged and made their way to the ring. Finally, the door opened to reveal Benn attired in glittering sequined hooded attire laced with gold trimmings. To the accompaniment of a throbbing raggae beat, Benn posed 'bad boy style' waving his gloves in the air before setting off along with his entourage on a jog to the ring. In the ring he disrobed to reveal matching sequined shorts and a plaited hairstyle that had necessitated a four-hour appointment with his hair designer.
By Adeyinka Makinde
28.09 - "I'll hit him with so many lefts, he'll by crying for a right." Nigel Benn warning Michael Watson what to expect during their fight.
"If I don't get respect from Nigel Benn out of the ring, I certainly will get it inside" Michael Watson's retort.
"Boxing is a mugs game" Chris Eubank.
These statements sum up the respective personas of the participants in one of British boxings most compelling rivalries. Eubank, provocative, lispingly verbose, dapper, haughty and overtly pretentious, was the antithesis of the snarling, unabashedly brutal mien of Benn and both men, brash and flashy by nature, contrasted sharply with Watson, an uncomplicated man of reserved disposition.
The protagonists, Benn the son of Barbadian immigrants and the others, sons of Jamaicans, came of fighting age at a period in history when black fighter's were firmly entrenched in the British game and accepted as home grown stars. The mixed race Turpin brothers, **** and Randolph were stars in the wake of the post-war abrogation of the so-called colour bar through which the right to fight for a British title was delimited to those of wholly Anglo or Celtic stock, but they were the exception. Then came the era of the double-tax and the ensuing recession in the boxing game was alleviated by the role of immigrant fighters from the new commonwealth: West Africans, South Africans, West Indians and Antipodeans they came from the far flung corners of the setting Empire. The Nigerians Hogan Bassey and **** Tiger blossomed in the English North West fight axis of Liverpool, Blackpool and West Hartlepool winning huge local support and later, world honours.
Yet a long road still needed to be travelled. Black fighters, promoters were wont to say simply did not 'draw' at the box office. The most marketable bouts were British title fights and in the 1960's and early 1970's few, if any, of the newly immigrant young Black British fighters were entitled to fight for Lord Lonsdale's belts given the British Boxing Board of Control's edict that they satisfy a lengthy residency requirement. However, the middling and later part of the 1970's saw the emergence of the likes of Maurice Hope, John Conteh, Dennis Andries and Kirkland Laing and by the middle 1980's Frank Bruno, a Da Vincian sculptured though limited heavyweight was on his way to becoming a beloved national figure. But while Bruno's unthreatening, ****ney court jesters routine echoed for some an uncomfortably demeaning, 'Steppin' Fetchit'-like caricature of black docility, Eubank and Benn brought with them a refreshing study of personalities. Watson too, with his quiet articulate ambience appeared to be, well, a regular guy. Eubank and Benn however, demanded the limelight and both men got it. Benn was decidedly a flashy sort of person who dressed expensively and drove a Porsche around London. He was tremendously ambitious and together with his manager, Ambrose Mendy, reflected the materialistic and acquisitive tendencies of the young upwardly mobile in Thatcherite Britain of the 1980's. With his clipped, upper class tones and sartorial tastes in monocles and jodhpurs, Eubank was a pugilist like none before him. He waxed philosophy and agitated both opponents and fans like none had before him. But while he got up most peoples backs, he ran away with a pot full of cash to the bank, by shrewdly exploited a marketing tactic epitomized by a boastful American wrestler known as Gorgeous George who was a major influence on no less a figure than Cassius Clay: the customers will pay top dollar to see the downfall of an obnoxious fighter. Benn, also attracted the fans, who relished the aplomb with which he separated his opponents from their conscious states of mind.
Nigel Benn, though from a family headed by hardworking parents, was a juvenile delinquent ran amok. It was a four-year tenure as a soldier in the Royal Fusiliers, which he credits as the turning point in his life. In the Army, he was forced to cultivate an ethic, which prioritised the need for self discipline. He took up boxing representing his regiment in Army tournaments and later in the ABA's, the pre-eminent British Amateur boxing competition. His first twenty-two professional bouts ended in knock out, most of them in the early stages. Benn brought undoubted excitement to his fights, his punches pole axing a succession of challengers. Lethal left hooks, robust right uppercuts, swinging right crosses; they all were capable of rendering an opponent senseless. He was careless though, fighting sometimes with such reckless abandon that some opponents succeeded in tagging him and very nearly came close to knocking him out. This happened during a fight in October 1988 with one Anthony Logan. Be that as it may, what heightened his appeal was that he appeared to be most dangerous when hurt. Logan, for all the inconvenience caused, ended up unconscious on the ring canvas.
The boxing game, no matter its geographic stage, is apt at producing punchers of remarkable devastating power. They build up impressive records that create an impression of apparent invulnerability. But the underlying reality of quality of opposition tells the true story. This is true of Benns case. He admitted as much when he referred to the bulk of his opposition as "Mexican road sweepers." Yet, for all his shortcomings of lacking concentration and of having a suspect chin, many felt that the murderous degree of power he held in his fists was enough to threaten even the best middleweights.
Casting their eyes around for suitable homegrown opposition, Benns handlers had few to choose from. It is always a coup for an up and coming fighter to make a victim out of a fading 'name' fighter. But the era of Minter and Sibson was long over and Mark Kaylor had moved up to the light heavyweight division. However, among those of Benn's generation, Michael Watson, who like Benn had received a world title contender ranking by the World Boxing Council, provided the most visible opponent of substance. He was someone who could test Benn.
Born in North London, one year after Benn, Watson started his career at the Islington Amateur Boxing Club situated in Archway. He had impressed onlookers at the National Association of Boys Club Tournament. As a professional, he had generally fought opponents of decidedly higher calibre than Benns. He had gained some valued experience fighting in America where he drew with one Israel Cole. The one blemish in his twenty-three-fight career was a point's loss to James Cook in 1986.
A fight was set up. Both men were so very different; Benn's loudness and brashness sharply contrasting with Watson's reticence and apparent humility. Benn was of course a puncher while Watson was a counter puncher, a thoughtful boxer, seriously dedicated to his craft. There was unsurprisingly some needle between both. Watson, who became irritated at Benn's bragging, felt his opponent was building his ego in order to camouflage his insecurities. While training for the bout, he told a national paper about a chance encounter with Benn at a late night gathering both men attended. Both fighters, although only too aware of the presence of the other maintained a wide berth. For a short period only, both eyes surveyed the other and according to Watson, Benn's eyes were the first to blink -he cast his head down to avert Watson's gaze, a sign, Watson was convinced, of Benn's fear. When Benn heard of this, he exploded in a rage. Far from being afraid, he was going to prove the contrary once they both stepped into the ring by knocking him out.
Both men trained hard. But Watson appeared to train the harder. While Benn completed only a miniscule regime of sparring sessions, Watson's team hired the experienced American middleweight, Willie Scypion who had unsuccessfully challenged for Marvin Hagler's middleweight championship in 1983. He knew that he could never hope to match Benn for brutality of punch, so Watson's strategy was to focus on developing defensive strategies and outbox him.
A circus style venue, dubbed the super tent, was erected in North London's Finsbury Park. The excitement on the night of the fight, 21st May 1989, was palpable both to attendees and viewers on national television where it was broadcast live. The rituals to the build up were flamboyantly staged and focussed on Benn who, along with his handlers, were treating the whole event as the prelude to some sort of coronation. Watson was aware of this, having conceded top billing to the superior box office appeal of Benn whom the bookmakers favoured at three to one. He would enter the ring first, but his manager Mickey Duff had warned the Benn camp that Watson would leave the ring if their pre-fight festivities went on longer than two minutes.
A tackily designed stage door, inscribed with the words BENN IS BAD (in the graffiti art style of Michael Jackson's album 'Bad') was to be Benn's point of introduction. First out was a marching detachment of soldiers from Benn's old army regiment, the Royal Fusiliers. They lined up on either side of the path leading to the ring to form a sort of guard of honour. Then four long legged beauties bearing the Union Jack emerged and made their way to the ring. Finally, the door opened to reveal Benn attired in glittering sequined hooded attire laced with gold trimmings. To the accompaniment of a throbbing raggae beat, Benn posed 'bad boy style' waving his gloves in the air before setting off along with his entourage on a jog to the ring. In the ring he disrobed to reveal matching sequined shorts and a plaited hairstyle that had necessitated a four-hour appointment with his hair designer.
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