This month, sitting unnoticed at York Hall was a former player who once made as many headlines as Chris Eubank and Nigel Benn.

Writers have made comparisons between Colin “Sweet C” McMillan and Sugar Ray Leonard.

“When I was growing up, my inspirations were Muhammad Ali and Sugar Ray Leonard,” said McMillan, a former WBO featherweight champion, now 58.

“Ali and Leonard were smart fighters, fighters who punched and didn’t get hit.”

At his peak, McMillan was almost untouchable, as Dennis Adams knows better than anyone.

Adams and McMillan fought countless rounds of sparring when both were trained by the overdue Howard Rainey.

They stayed in touch after their boxing careers ended, and McMillan now works as an advisor to Adams’ son, Billy, who he saw win all six rounds against Marvin Solano at York Hall this month to improve to 4-0.

“His jab was like lightning,” recalled Dennis Adams of his sparring sessions with McMillan.

“The gym used to say, ‘When you feel it, throw it.’ As soon as he hit you, you had to throw him. If you had waited a split second, he would have been gone.

Those he didn’t hit had doubts about McMillan.

The Boxing News headline before his fight with Maurizio Stecca for the WBO featherweight championship in May 1992 read: “Fighter Or Phoney?”

There were those who considered McMillan a fraud in this most arduous business. He was too shrewd, too pretty and too nice for boxing.

“My parents wanted me to go to university and become a lawyer or an accountant,” he said, but instead he struggled for money and had the confidence to take on the venture.

“I had problems in the boxing world,” he said, “because I wanted to take more control of my career.

“I went to the promoters and asked, ‘What can you do for me?’ and they didn’t like it because they were used to deciding.

“But if you’re a fighter who has some potential, you can take care of yourself and still be successful.

“I talked to many former champions and learned from their mistakes.

“I wanted to be in control of my career so that when it all ended, I wouldn’t have anyone else to blame. I wanted to make all the decisions.

“Sweet C” was good enough to do it and attracted celebrities to the ring who loved his lisping suaveness and breathtaking skills.

Coming off an early defeat to capable north London midfielder Alan McKay, McMillan took the British featherweight title from Gary DeRoux in May 1991.

“I remember being told before the fight, ‘He doesn’t like pressure being put on him,’” DeRoux recalled, “but it’s challenging to execute your game plan when you’re getting hit with quick shots from behind the scenes.” all angles.”

What was better was that 26-year-old McMillan challenged Stecca at the Alexandra Pavilion.

The Italian won gold at the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics, and in 45 previous professional fights he had only been beaten by high-class cinematographer Louie Espinoza.

Stecca reigned as WBO champion for the second time, winner of six of seven world title fights and known as a boxer who made few mistakes.

Promoter Frank Warren had enough faith in McMillan to pay Stecca handsomely to come to north London and voluntarily defend his championship.

Stecca “Sweet C” achieved such versatility that he became arguably the top British boxing star of the time.

“I had a great time,” McMillan said. “Chris Eubank, Nigel Benn were there and my name was there with them. I was in good company.”

The performance against Stecca was compared to British champions of previous eras.

“Master McMillan’s show is a throwback to the days of Winstone, Buchanan,” we read on the front page of Boxing News after McMillan’s masterclass.

For all his experience, Stecca had no answer to what Jim Watt described in commentary for ITV as “perfect boxing” from the challenger.

Already after the bell that ended the second second, the Italian expressed his frustration, and McMillan never allowed him to fight.

Time and time again, Stecca missed and ate the pricks. McMillan barely threw a right hand until the final rounds. He didn’t have to.

“This evening was the culmination of all the years of challenging work by both amateur and professional,” McMillan said, “and I was perfectly prepared for it.

“I didn’t want to miss my chance.

“I wanted to show everyone that I am the best in the world. I have always been very competitive and wanted to be the best.

“I went in there, took control and put on a show. I controlled the pace. I fought my fight.”

McMillan won by eight rounds on two cards, two on the second, and what’s more, he left the ring without a trace.

This night looked like a possible platform for McMillan. Instead, it turned out to be the highlight.

McMillan was ruled out of his first defense with a shoulder injury in the eighth round against underrated Colombian Ruben Dario Palacio.

After seven arduous rounds, McMillan was ahead on all three scorecards.

“I was in good shape and so much was expected of me,” McMillan said. “There was talk of fighting for unification [WBC champion] Paul Hodkinson.”

McMillan finally got a chance to regain his world title. Palacio tested positive for HIV just 48 hours before his scheduled defense against John Davison, with Welshman Steve Robinson stepping in to fight the North East crowd favorite for the vacant belt.

Boxing without nerves Robinson, whose record was an unflattering 13-9-1, won a deserved split decision. In his first defense, he faced McMillan and defeated him on points.

“After the shoulder popped out, I was never the same again,” McMillan said. “I became British champion but I wasn’t the same player anymore. A shoulder injury interrupted my career.”

The end came after Paul Ingle took the British title in January 1997.

“I’m philosophical about it,” said McMillan, who finished with a 31-4 (14) record.

“Looking back on it, I’m glad the shoulder injury happened after winning the world title and not before it.

“My goal has always been to go to the Olympics and win the world title. I didn’t go to the Olympics, but I beat the Olympic champion and won the world title.

“I know I could have achieved bigger and better things. But it wasn’t meant to be.

McMillan sees similarities between himself and Billy Adams, the stylish southerner from Upminster who won all 18 rounds he boxed as a professional.

“Billy’s dream was to go to the Olympics,” he said, “and that was my dream too.

“Billy couldn’t keep that weight. It wasn’t supposed to be for either of us.

Although he didn’t make the Olympics, Adams gained international experience with Great Britain during his 53-7 amateur career and showed his skills coaching the threatening Solano.

“I watched a lot of Billy’s amateur fights,” McMillan said. “I saw it had potential.”

McMillan thought he was done with boxing management after working with Audley Harrison early in his professional career, as well as Terry Dunstan, “Mighty” Joe Youthful and Nigel Benn’s cousins ​​Paul and Michael Bowen.

Since 2012 he has focused on the Colin McMillan Boxing Training Academy based at the Redbridge Sports and Recreation Center and also visits local schools to promote the values ​​of boxing.

McMillan received the British Empire Medal in the 2019 Up-to-date Year’s Honors list in recognition of his charitable work, before returning to professional boxing with Hamzah Sheeraz and his cousin Umar Khan.

“I still go to shows and do a dinner show once a year for the Barking Amateur Boxing Club,” he said.

“Hamzah’s dad, Kam, is energetic among amateurs [with Five Star ABC] and he wanted me to see Hamzah and Umar.

“I saw them working, I talked to them and I said, ‘Yes.’ I came as a technical advisor and mentor.

“I give them some technical tips and advice about life outside of boxing.

“I have been with them for four or five years. It’s electrifying to be able to fight some talented fighters again.”

Sheeraz said: “I watched Colin fight and he was restless and swift. Boxing is like chess and the key is to think a move or two ahead. You don’t want them to know what you’re going to do next.

What makes a fighter or boxer scary? Bad impact force? Really nasty personality and behavior? Utterly intimidating looking down skills that terrify not only the other guy in the ring, but also us, the fans, who are watching?
Maybe all this and more.

Here today or tonight, when it’s shadowy and the wind may howl and the kids come calling trick or treat, let’s look back at some of the scariest, most fearsome warriors of all.

In no particular order:

Edwin Valero.

Valero is truly a nightmare, and not in a fun and cordial, “Joyful Halloween” kind of way. Valero, a man seemingly possessed both in and out of the ring (pardon the pun), was actually a good fighter and potentially a great boxer. But aside from his achievements in the ring, Valero is best known today for the brutal murder he committed, and the mad fighter tragically took the life of his own wife. Valero then took his own pathetic life in his cell, and the tortured former champion hanged himself.

In miniature, if there is a place called hell, Valero is burning down there.

Sonny Liston.

Liston was a man who could turn an opponent’s legs to jelly, with both a punch and a baleful glare, before hostilities had even begun in the squared circle. Liston had truly terrifying punching power, and one bad look from Sonny caused many proud fighters to sink mentally. However, beyond his shadowy side portrayed in the media, Liston was considered a genuinely nice guy who loved children and had a great sense of humor.

Liston has for some time become known by many people as the most misunderstood fighter of all.

Mike Tyson.

How could Tyson not make such a list? Capable, in truly insane mode, of biting a man on the ear or trying his hardest to break another ring foe’s arm, Tyson was at one point capable of giving many children nightmares. Tyson in his prime was ferocious and regularly uttered some terrifying sounds: “I tried to grab him by the tip of his nose so the bone would go into his brain,” Tyson once said of his opponent.

Tyson, like Liston, had a truly kind side, but to many he was always considered a heavyweight terrorist that no one could defeat before everything fell apart.

Carlos Monzon.

Some say that “Escopeta” deserves to be called the best middleweight of all. But one thing Monzon didn’t deserve was freedom. It was a truly ghastly turn of events that ended the lives of Monzon and his wife Alicia Muniz in February 1988. Monzon, who had already shown the shadowy side of his nature, choked Muniz unconscious, then threw her (and himself) from the balcony. When confronted by authorities, Monzon claimed that the incident was the result of an accident.

Monzon, who was (legally) cold-blooded during the fight, had a blood-curdling mixture of ice and warm rage coursing through his veins as his shadowy side overwhelmed him.

The celebrations continue, as do the tributes, pieces of nostalgia and spoken word, wonderful memories of those people who were there. We’re talking about a simply epic fight – called the “Rumble” – between heavyweight gods Muhammad Ali and George Foreman. Half a century since this astonishing fight, result and advancement in the heart of Africa, fight fans who may not have been born at that time read and hear all about the historic fight that took place in the early morning hours in Zaire.

It is complex today to understand how much of a threat Foreman was considered not only to Ali, but to ANY heavyweight. Foreman, with a record of 40-0(37), was seen as truly unbeatable. How could any fighter, especially the aging Ali (yes, 32 really was considered the age for a boxer, even a heavyweight, in 1974), beat Foreman? The man had macabre power in both hands, and Foreman’s sheer physical strength was also terrifying.

Added to this is the fact that the two men who defeated Ali – Joe Frazier and Ken Norton – were destroyed almost effortlessly by Foreman. No, few people were willing to give Ali a real chance to upset “Huge George” and regain the title. Instead, many people were genuinely concerned about Ali’s health and life.

But Ali’s longtime trainer (apart from his first professional fight), Angelo Dundee, believed in his guy. “Angie” told anyone who would listen before the fight that Ali would find a way to win. Ultimately, Dundee was proven right, even if Ali may not have won the fight as anyone, including Dundee, had imagined. Holding on to the ropes (“a stunning thing for a heavyweight,” said the victorious Ali) and alternating between blocking, sliding, or occasionally absorbing Foreman’s lethal bombs, Ali allowed Foreman to wear him down and then went in for the kill, getting it in the eighth round .

Before he passed away in February 2012, Angelo was kind enough to talk to me on the phone about Ali and his huge victory over Foreman. I also learned that while Foreman’s win was outstanding, Dundee placed Ali’s next win even higher.

“Oh God, this [the win over Foreman] was one of his best,” Dundee told me. “But the best win of all was [first] beat Sonny Liston. To have [Sonny] he truly was the worst man in the world and no one gave my child a chance to get inside. This one was special too.”

Angelo again talked about the “loosened the ropes” myth that absolutely refuses to go away.

“What happened was that I went to Kinshasa – we were 45 minutes from Nsele and stayed in a villa. That day I went to the arena at 4:00 and tried to tighten the ropes, Bobby Goodman and I. These were 24-foot ropes for a 20-foot ring. It wasn’t straightforward, but we pressed them, regardless of the heat in Zaire. The fight didn’t break out until 4 a.m. the next morning, and the heat once again loosened the bonds. I never wanted Muhammad to lie on the ropes; in fact, I patted his ass whenever he lay on the ropes near the corner. The ring was six feet off the ground and I was worried that Foreman would punch him in the chest and throw him out of the ring. If that happened, the fight would be over.”

However, many myths still exist around this epic fight. You may read about some of them in the coming days. Ali’s greatest victory – or, according to Angelo, his second greatest victory – will live on forever. Just like the cartoons that accompany it.