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March 1 1995
"I kissed his hand and prayed he'd live," read the front-page headline of The Sun newspaper. Nigel Benn, the world super-middleweight champion, was revealing his agony after punching his challenger, Gerald McClellan, into the hospital for emergency brain surgery. A page-two headline promised, "I will quit if he dies."
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It was all sorrow and mourning until you got to the back page. "I WANT EUBANK: I'll shut that prat up," the headline there said, quoting Benn. Chris Eubank is Benn's chief rival in Britain.
.
So here were the two timeless sides of boxing.
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"I must have Eubank," Benn went on from the back page; even while on the front page he was saying: "At the moment I can't even think ahead to more fights - I want to check that Gerald is O.K."
.
Back page: "The British public want me to shut that prat up and I want that too," he said of the next fight.
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Front page: "It has left me empty and totally devastated," he said of the last one. "If Gerald doesn't pull through then I think that will be it. I think I'll be too scared to get into a ring and hit someone like that. I'd be too frightened that someone would get hurt again."
.
The debate continued from both sides of Benn's swollen, sutured mouth. Would Nigel really retire? Or would he rise up to give Eubank one last good beating? Back and forth, back and forth, my fingers smudged with the ink of McClellan's blood until the truth rose biblically off page 31, column 6, paragraph 3: "The fight could fill Wembley four times over and there would be a lot of money in it. Then the winner can fight Roy Jones Jnr to decide who is the best fighter on the planet. Could you imagine?"
.
By the following day, Tuesday, Eubank's camp was predicting a fight that would be worth $15 million - $4.5 million from the gate alone; plus the American TV companies will be battling to televise Benn after, well, you know. Plus the ****e of "pound for pound" star Roy Jones at ringside.
.
So here are the three sides of boxing at the moment. A man lying near death, surrounded by grieving family, a window carved into his skull and a blood clot 8 centimeters by 6 centimeters removed from his brain; the survivors dancing musical chairs around the profits; and the public arguing whether boxing should be banned for at least the 500th time (i.e., one debate for each boxer killed in the ring since the Marquis of Queensberry Rules brought civility to boxing in 1884).
.
It is hard to imagine that boxing will ever be banned. Surely the people who make their business from the sport have no fear of it. Details of a man's brain slamming against the walls of his skull seem only to heighten the interest. The details aren't shocking because everyone understands the risks. The TV audience of more than 10 million Britons was attracted by the likelihood of a vicious fight.
.
Boxing will survive because the public is no mood to ban it. At the same time everyone who watched this fight (or any other tragedy) mourns sincerely for McClellan, and perhaps feels a twinge or more of guilt for having cheered his demise. Is this guilt the reason we allow the sport to subsequently make a charade of his life?
.
After a respectful day's silence, boxing officials held a news conference to defend their sport against the usual charges of inhumanity. It was pointed out that Britain does more than most countries to certify the health of boxers before they fight, and to provide medical help thereafter. For prestigious fighters this is certainly true, but the protection no doubt breaks down at the lower end of the boxing food chain.
.
But the most ridiculous claim is when boxing officials say that, statistically, their sport is safer than rugby, horse racing and motor racing. And we are supposed to respond idiotically, "Well, there's no arguing with statistics;" but tell me how many punch- drunk rugby players have you ever met? How many jockeys, when they reach middle age, find themselves unable to communicate?
.
"I kissed his hand and prayed he'd live," read the front-page headline of The Sun newspaper. Nigel Benn, the world super-middleweight champion, was revealing his agony after punching his challenger, Gerald McClellan, into the hospital for emergency brain surgery. A page-two headline promised, "I will quit if he dies."
.
It was all sorrow and mourning until you got to the back page. "I WANT EUBANK: I'll shut that prat up," the headline there said, quoting Benn. Chris Eubank is Benn's chief rival in Britain.
.
So here were the two timeless sides of boxing.
.
"I must have Eubank," Benn went on from the back page; even while on the front page he was saying: "At the moment I can't even think ahead to more fights - I want to check that Gerald is O.K."
.
Back page: "The British public want me to shut that prat up and I want that too," he said of the next fight.
.
Front page: "It has left me empty and totally devastated," he said of the last one. "If Gerald doesn't pull through then I think that will be it. I think I'll be too scared to get into a ring and hit someone like that. I'd be too frightened that someone would get hurt again."
.
The debate continued from both sides of Benn's swollen, sutured mouth. Would Nigel really retire? Or would he rise up to give Eubank one last good beating? Back and forth, back and forth, my fingers smudged with the ink of McClellan's blood until the truth rose biblically off page 31, column 6, paragraph 3: "The fight could fill Wembley four times over and there would be a lot of money in it. Then the winner can fight Roy Jones Jnr to decide who is the best fighter on the planet. Could you imagine?"
.
By the following day, Tuesday, Eubank's camp was predicting a fight that would be worth $15 million - $4.5 million from the gate alone; plus the American TV companies will be battling to televise Benn after, well, you know. Plus the ****e of "pound for pound" star Roy Jones at ringside.
.
So here are the three sides of boxing at the moment. A man lying near death, surrounded by grieving family, a window carved into his skull and a blood clot 8 centimeters by 6 centimeters removed from his brain; the survivors dancing musical chairs around the profits; and the public arguing whether boxing should be banned for at least the 500th time (i.e., one debate for each boxer killed in the ring since the Marquis of Queensberry Rules brought civility to boxing in 1884).
.
It is hard to imagine that boxing will ever be banned. Surely the people who make their business from the sport have no fear of it. Details of a man's brain slamming against the walls of his skull seem only to heighten the interest. The details aren't shocking because everyone understands the risks. The TV audience of more than 10 million Britons was attracted by the likelihood of a vicious fight.
.
Boxing will survive because the public is no mood to ban it. At the same time everyone who watched this fight (or any other tragedy) mourns sincerely for McClellan, and perhaps feels a twinge or more of guilt for having cheered his demise. Is this guilt the reason we allow the sport to subsequently make a charade of his life?
.
After a respectful day's silence, boxing officials held a news conference to defend their sport against the usual charges of inhumanity. It was pointed out that Britain does more than most countries to certify the health of boxers before they fight, and to provide medical help thereafter. For prestigious fighters this is certainly true, but the protection no doubt breaks down at the lower end of the boxing food chain.
.
But the most ridiculous claim is when boxing officials say that, statistically, their sport is safer than rugby, horse racing and motor racing. And we are supposed to respond idiotically, "Well, there's no arguing with statistics;" but tell me how many punch- drunk rugby players have you ever met? How many jockeys, when they reach middle age, find themselves unable to communicate?
.
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