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By Thomas Gerbasi - Most of the time it doesn’t feel like 20 years.
It probably feels longer for Nigel Benn, a lifetime perhaps. Maybe the man dubbed the “Dark Destroyer” can’t remember what his existence was like before February 25, 1995, a night that produced his greatest victory and haunted him for years at the same time.
Yet the man he defeated that night in London for the WBC super middleweight championship, Gerald McClellan, doesn’t remember anything of the fight, an epic struggle that if not for its tragic ending would probably hold a place as one of the most dramatic title fights of all-time.
And it was. We can’t talk about it in this fashion as a great fight, not after McClellan suffered a brain injury in the bout that irrevocably altered his life. The ten rounds of sanctioned battle have turned into boxing’s dirty secret, a reminder of the dangers the sport holds every time the bell rings, but that most don’t want to address.
I’ve seen it firsthand. When McClellan was brought to New York in 2002 to help celebrate the Boxing Writers Association of America “Good Guy” award presented to his friend Teddy Blackburn, I offered to help get the word out and hopefully get some media coverage for McClellan’s plight.
The night he arrived, one reporter, Wally Matthews, then of the New York Post, showed up. The only other person there outside of McClellan’s immediate circle, Matthews, Blackburn and myself was then-middleweight champion Bernard Hopkins.
Hopkins, not one to get rattled by much, was affected by seeing the condition of the man who once held his title, yet while the two were together, it was almost a guilty pleasure seeing them interact. McClellan asked Hopkins to put his fist on his chin. Hopkins responded “I don’t want to put you to sleep.” [Click Here To Read More]
It probably feels longer for Nigel Benn, a lifetime perhaps. Maybe the man dubbed the “Dark Destroyer” can’t remember what his existence was like before February 25, 1995, a night that produced his greatest victory and haunted him for years at the same time.
Yet the man he defeated that night in London for the WBC super middleweight championship, Gerald McClellan, doesn’t remember anything of the fight, an epic struggle that if not for its tragic ending would probably hold a place as one of the most dramatic title fights of all-time.
And it was. We can’t talk about it in this fashion as a great fight, not after McClellan suffered a brain injury in the bout that irrevocably altered his life. The ten rounds of sanctioned battle have turned into boxing’s dirty secret, a reminder of the dangers the sport holds every time the bell rings, but that most don’t want to address.
I’ve seen it firsthand. When McClellan was brought to New York in 2002 to help celebrate the Boxing Writers Association of America “Good Guy” award presented to his friend Teddy Blackburn, I offered to help get the word out and hopefully get some media coverage for McClellan’s plight.
The night he arrived, one reporter, Wally Matthews, then of the New York Post, showed up. The only other person there outside of McClellan’s immediate circle, Matthews, Blackburn and myself was then-middleweight champion Bernard Hopkins.
Hopkins, not one to get rattled by much, was affected by seeing the condition of the man who once held his title, yet while the two were together, it was almost a guilty pleasure seeing them interact. McClellan asked Hopkins to put his fist on his chin. Hopkins responded “I don’t want to put you to sleep.” [Click Here To Read More]
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