At ONE you often hear state-of-the-art fans debating who is the greatest British player of all time. Most of the names that appear are those of men whose professional careers took place over the last 30 years. There seems to be a view that state-of-the-art fighters, due to access to better training resources and improved diets, are better than their counterparts from 50 or 100 years ago. They are not.

Tough times breed tough fighters, and former champions often had to struggle with physically demanding jobs as well as a career in the ring. Few of them could afford to live solely on boxing earnings, and most of them worked full-time throughout their professional career. Many of them were, for example, miners, and today there would be few people willing to do this type of work.

Ted “Kid” Lewis is, to me, the greatest warrior to come from these shores in the pre-World War II era. His only rival at that time was Jimmy Wilde. Ted was the British Featherweight Champion at the age of 19 before moving to the States where he really made a name for himself. After winning the world welterweight title in 1917, he returned to Britain and within 12 months won a further three British titles at welterweight, middleweight and airy heavyweight.

At the time there were only eight weight classes and Ted won the British title in four of them, which was a remarkable feat. Ted grew up on the mean streets of London’s East End during the Edwardian era and had to struggle to survive as an immigrant Jew from Eastern Europe. He had nearly 300 professional careers and fought through the toughest times of all, on both sides of the Atlantic.

In February 1922 he boxed Tom Gummer from Rotherham in a 20-round match at Brighton Dome. In his previous two fights, Lewis had defended his British middleweight title against Johnny Basham, winning the European title in the process, and then won the airy heavyweight title with a 14-round victory over Boy McCormick. Gummer’s fight was scheduled for the British and European middleweight titles, but Gummer was overweight and the fight ended without a title.

Gummer knew a thing or two about strenuous times himself. Having lost his father at the age of eight, he took up boxing so he could bring home extra money to support his mother. During the Great War he served with the Lancashire and Yorkshire Regiment and was wounded twice in action and was awarded the Military Medal for bravery in the trenches.

After demobilization in 1919, he resumed his boxing career, winning the British middleweight title in 1919 in a fight against Jim Sullivan at the National Sporting Club. He was Lewis’s great rival, although much less well-known, and a fight between the two men became inevitable.

Lewis was a good athlete as well as a great fighter and refused to accept confiscation from Camp Gummer when their fighter was overweight. He was disappointed that he wasn’t defending his titles, but decided that revenge was best sought inside the ring. He was in devastating form that evening.

Immediately engaging in combat with Gummer, BN reports that “Lewis looked determined and most perilous, attacking fiercely from the gong and rushing in with his head down to deliver a barrage of body blows.” Gummer hit the deck with a count of nine midway through the first round, and Lewis wasted no time with him anymore, driving the Yorkshireman to the body, weakening his guard, and then nailing him with a finishing left hook.

In his next competition, Ted suffered his worst ever defeat, losing in one round to Georges Carpentier when he was hit by a shot when he did not defend himself, thinking that the referee had called a “timeout”. Lewis, a welterweight, would be anyone’s opponent today, and he’s an all-time great.

Years pass and memories fade, or at least some of them. It was 18 years ago that this writer had the absolute privilege of sitting ringside for a fight that everyone knew would be special. As it turned out, no one knew how special he was. And as far as memory goes, the war, slugfest, classic – call it what you want – that Jamie Moore and Matthew Macklin put on when they fought at light-middleweight/154 pounds still resonates powerfully today.

How could it not be?

It was a scorching and steamy night at a packed George Carnall Recreation Center on September 29, 2006, and the fight had long since sold out (in retrospect, this epic should have been fought in front of a much larger crowd, but the fact that it did was not , gave/gives those who were there a huge “I was there” – they claim, along with a treasured memory). Moore, the defending British champion, gave his all against challenger Macklin, who stripped himself of himself that night and his effort was simply mesmerizing.

Southpaw Moore was 24-3 and Macklin was 17-1. Moore was 27, Macklin 24.

Together they fought a fight that would forever secure their place in British boxing tradition.

Macklin, trained by Billy Graham (remember Ricky Hatton who was there that night), came out, as it was written at the time, “like a train that had lost control of its brakes” and continued to attack: on and on…. But Moore, trained by Oliver Harrison, a little smarter, a little smarter and a lot more experienced than Macklin, pulled up, fought against the ropes, fired off some pointed, grueling counterattacks. Macklin told the writer many years after the war that he “fought with his heart in the third round.”

Indeed, the scorching pace set by Macklin was fit for nowhere other than the depths of hell. Both men will pay for the cruel skin they have put on their hands. At times, “Mooresy” felt like a punch or two, a way to overwhelm, and maybe stop. But every time danger loomed – and it did visit both corners many times – Moore would pull him in, maybe drop the ropes or spin his man to the center of the ring and regain control.

And finally, inevitably, Macklin’s hourglass emptied, so slowly and so painfully, to the benefit of the warrior and his followers. There were two, maybe three rounds that were Round of the Year material, and until the very end no one was sure who would win. Ultimately, the fight ended brutally when Moore scorched Macklin with a brutal two-punch combination upstairs, and a final left hand from the defending champion left Macklin face down on the canvas.

And just like that, although Macklin seemed moved, the previously swaying crowd fell hushed. Deafening. The sound of silence hit us all for a while. Fortunately, as we know, Matt was fine and his career continued and he was involved in several bigger fights. Over time, the two would work together; this added to the “it was a British Gatti-Ward” speech that had already started circulating that evening due to the great action.

Neither Moore nor Macklin ever became world champion. It doesn’t really matter. Together these two proud, fiercely determined, brave, courageous and fierce warriors will fight in a fight that is one of the best and greatest ever seen in a British ring.

Without a doubt, Moore KO 10 Macklin is by far the greatest, most stimulating and most memorable fight this writer has ever had, and let’s say it again, a privilege to be right there in front of it!

Eighteen years have passed and this fight still sends shivers down your spine.

As winner Moore said years after the fight, “I wish I was a fan of that fight at ringside!”

It was 38, a long time ago, when mighty underdog Lloyd Honeyghan won what was then called a “miracle victory”. After Honeyghan, whether he was an 8/1 underdog, a 9/1 underdog or a 10/1 dog, there was, literally, dancing on the streets of Britain, Donald Curry took the spotlight.

According to most experts, Curry was not only the welterweight king, but also the best pound-for-pound fighter in the sport at the time. What’s more, Curry, a perfect 25-0, was called “the next Sugar Ray Leonard.” Instead, Honeyghan became British boxing’s biggest star and a fresh sensation, weighing in at 147 pounds.

The fight took place in Atlantic City, and although “Ragamuffin Man” Honeyghan was also unblemished at 27-0, the Jamaican-born Briton had never faced anyone as good and unique as the Texas Curry. Special? Curry fell just tiny of the keen and chilling Milton McCrory, and some say this two-round victory already cemented Curry’s greatness. Damn, Curry was so good, so talented; his statement about increasing weight to challenge middleweight ruler Marvelous Marvin Hagler was taken very seriously.

But now, against the seemingly caring Honeyghan, Curry was to be annihilated. And he fell in on the way.

Curry may have struggled to reach the welterweight limit, but nothing – nothing – could or can be taken away from the great challenge he presented to the challenger. In tiny, Honeyghan’s speedy, relentless, often street-fighting approach was something Curry’s superior boxing brain couldn’t calculate. It was, to the surprise of all boxing, a beating. And Curry was taking it.

After throwing in a few cigarette butts for good measure, Honeyghan had beaten and bloodied the champion, and Curry’s reputation meant nothing to Lloyd. Curry couldn’t get into his rhythm……No, he couldn’t get into any kind of rhythm. It was stunning. After six rounds, most of which were led by Honeyghan, Curry elected to remain on the stool; the fight completely knocked him out. The fresh King Honeyghan fell to the mat in pure elation and joy.

The shrewd Micky Duff, Honeyghan’s manager, knew he would soon be heading to the bookies to claim his fortune as Duff had placed a large bet on his guy to win.

Honeyghan, the fresh bad boy of the sport and one of the most entertaining players, caused the biggest away upset ever scored by a British player. After all these years, Honeyghan’s completely unexpected victory is still being celebrated.

When it comes to the biggest upset ever suffered by a British boxer, that distinction goes to Randy Turpin’s monstrous victory over Sugar Ray Robinson in London in 1951. But the greatest victory ever achieved by a Briton in America, well, that title remains today with Honeyghan WRTD6 Curry.

And it’s quite possible that nothing will ever beat it.