In my career I had some great victories – Bernard Hopkins, Chris Eubank, Mikkel Kessler – But Jeff Lacy was the number 1. I was weaker – I was answered by the British press and the American press, who said that I intend to be knocked out – but everything combined for me and it became a turning point in my career.

I was 33 years aged and started fighting an injury, so fighting as I did: it was great to win, be a champion and put up a great performance that people remember.

In October 1997 I beat Eubank for the free title of Super Middleight WBO and, like every master, I wanted to unite 168 pounds, but unfortunately with boxing policy, fights, and the opponents wanted too much money that I could not. I boxed opponents such as Robin Reid, Richie Woodhall, Charles Brewer and Byron Mitchell as soon as they lost the titles when I had everything to lose and nothing to get.

Before Lacy was bothering Evans Ashira, I broke my hand very badly in the fourth round and fought with the last eight with one hand to win a unanimous decision. I remember how I felt very low, and then I had to listen to Gary Shaw, promoter Lacy, tearing out from America that I was a chicken.

I suppose that that’s why they came to Manchester to fight me: they thought it was over.

Everyone said Lacy was a fresh, super-medium version of Mike Tyson. He was very intimidating: he had six packages of the Sports Illustrated year and was an Olympian who knocked everyone and came to fight what they thought was an aging master. Robin Reida died, and people compared our fights, the second when I wounded my hand. It was a huge test for me: I thought it would be a tough fight, but my dad Enzo, who was also my trainer, thought it would be basic, that my speed and movement would be bambo.

I wanted to prove to everyone that being a WBO champion for nine years, I was number 1: not only the world champion, but the world champion. It was my first struggle of unification: I was very, very nervous about gathering, but my fear was never an opponent or he was hurt, he lost.

I ran at 1am 2am – the fight took place at 2 am – when it was quite shadowy and freezing, but my times: I didn’t run, I ran. I did a five -field run and my time was faster than ever before; My recovery was brilliant. I was wearing a suit and my dad followed me with a car with a car: I knew I was so productive.

Then I hurt my right wrist in pairing about eight, nine days before the fight and I was really stressed. I went to Harley Street in London to have an injection and I thought I would have to withdraw, worrying that he would go in the biggest fight in my life, but my dad said: “If you get a chance, he won’t come again. You must fight this fight: even with one hand.” It was all
I had to hear.

A few days before the fight I woke up and there was snow outside. I love snow – it was simply surreal, I can’t explain it – I woke up, I was nervous, but something just raised me; I didn’t think about my wrist. My dad asked: “Are you okay, Joe?” Because he saw another person, there was no nerves. Then I just knew it was my time. A guy woke me up at night before fighting the mystification, saying: “Lacy will get you, Lacy will get you,” but I just laughed.

On the day of the fight I was early, as always. I tried to go back to sleep, but as soon as I closed my eyes, butterflies in the stomach. I was really tired during the day and thinking that ** t, I need a box
And I’m impressed. “In the evening I went to the arena and yawned along the way, but as soon as you go – TV cameras are there; lights – adrenaline begins and wakes you.

I remember Lacy coming to the arena with his girlfriend and I thought it was a bit strange: for me it looked like a weakness. I liked to pretend, so I couldn’t be hand in hand with my girlfriend.

In the locker room it was relaxed; I had the same routine that I always did-my headphones, making robots-I remember that I felt very piercing, very swift and excited.

I felt incredibly going to the ring: I came to Spitfire, from the wonderful I loved. I liked climbing to the ring and I remember how I looked at him, trying to get eye contact: he had his great entourage there, when only I, my dad and my horns, and I sensed that he was nervous.

He caught me in the first round, but it didn’t move me at all. He charged every time, and I just threw combinations, sliding into the right, throwing myself every time he threw, and then landing four, five, six blows at once.

My speed and movement bambo go bambo and my corners worked perfectly: he had no plan B. I think he was shocked how mighty I was – he said that I hit, well, I hit quite difficult – and I think he felt this power, and this is only combinations: hitting him, hitting him, hitting him. After a few rounds he was like a training bag and tried to land this one shot. I was a really high pace, but I knew I could continue it: I knew I was in this form and I had a good time.

Every time he hit me, it never hurt me: I had so much energy and so much will, everything that he threw from me. That night I felt like a superman –
I think I would overcome every super-medium weight of every era-I felt good.

I didn’t think about my wrist either, because I hit it so cleanly and I didn’t really load myself. The plan was to utilize my speed and angles, so if you throw five, six, seven blows in one explosion, it will not hurt as it did if you are trying to land one shot.

Many of them are blur, but I remember how I was bossing in every round, and when he called, I always told him to walk around me or said something – “Yes, there are six of them left” – or you gave him a look or a smile. I threw so many blows and a condition in which I was mentally and physically: I could make 15 rounds at this pace. There were a few opportunities in which he could be stopped, like the end of the seventh, or when the judge, Raul Caiz Snr, helped him a bit, because the bandages on his wrist were a bit loose, or I would make him grab him, and he jumped and saved him, and I thought I would stop him in 11 and 12 rounds.

But I just remember that I was under full control. The fight went nice for me
Quick: until the last round I was so concentrated. I remember that I wanted to stop him in 12th place, but he managed to hang there.

It would be much better for Lacy if it was stopped: I ruined his career that night. Psychologically, more than physically, he never recovered after the beating he received.

He was a warrior to stay in him for 12 rounds – if anything showed too much heart – and I respect him for it. It was there that his corner should pull him out: I thought they could do it at the end – he looked so depressed at the end of 10 and 11 – both his eyes were cut and swollen, and he did not know what such a round was.

I am glad that it went a distance: I liked 12 rounds. At the end I had such relief, an amazing feeling: I was always my worst critic, but I knew I did something special.

After almost withdrawing, so that it finally happened, against another master, it was just a stunning moment. It was also a debt collection for my father; Many people were unaware of him because he never boxed, but he was the best coach for me.

Later I received a huge cover and it was nice; Especially after writing back.

Thank you Gary Shaw and the people who put this fight.

There has always been something more than Guinness, Karaoke and drinking naked at dawn in Las Vegas between Ricky and Matthew Hatton. Every time they sat to look at the fight, they felt blows. They took each of the blows, every failure and moment of glory. This is the fighting brothers. When it looked like Ricky had finished boxing, he was one last week of great fight for boys. It was Matthew, this time Ricky.

At the end of 2010, there was the offer of Robert Diaz from Golden Boy, that Matthew would fight the saul “Canelo” Alvarez; 10 rounds in a welterweight in Los Angeles in March 2011. Alvarez was a child of 20 years, undefeated in 36 fights, and his name began to wear a challenging currency in our company. Oscar de la Hoya was very excited about a child.

“We agreed on the conditions of the fight within 10 rounds at 10.7, and then a few weeks before the camp they dismissed,” Hatton remembered. “The title of WBC WBC was empty and asked if I was fighting him for this title at 10.10. We talked about money and we made a contract.” Hatton has never been a great welterweight weight, but it was a proper welterweight; Alvarez was always a beast, a beast with every weight.

The boys came to Los Angeles a week before the fight. Initially, they began to defeat the residence low, they hide, a silent gym, without receiving in red. No confusion, only a tight diminutive group. There was Ricky, Bob Shannon, Ray Hatton, Gareth Williams, their lawyer. More friends and relatives arrived a few days before the first bell – it was Hatton Way.

They switched to a wild card and suddenly landed in the land of great fight; Children in Canelo hats, ancient men speak Spanish about a child, Freddie Roach is a diplomat. The Hattones saw and heard all this earlier, there was no great fear or surprise. Everyone was gigantic boys, they knew how the company works.

Matthew could fight, never forget about it. His record of this week in Los Angeles is 41 wins of 47 fights, he defeated Gianluca Branco for the European title, did two good defense and was sewn over 12 against Lovemore N’dou in a program promoted by his father. That night the ring looked more like a crowd in a baptism family than a great fight. House, father and brother’s advantage never helped: “I could take them off my Christmas card list,” Matthew told me.

Alvarez beat over 12 rounds in his last fight. Yes, Hatton could fight, not make a mistake, and any canopy of protection extended by the reputation of his brother has long disappeared. I don’t think it ever exists.

“We’ve still heard that he would never bring importance and that he was huge,” added Hatton. “Everyone on a wild card spoke about him. I did not care about the weight, but I still told Gareth, our lawyer and my father to make sure he was 10.10 when we got into the scales.” Everyone knew that Alvarez was unlikely to be weight.

“I entered the scales and I had 10.9, and then he began and was 10.12. It wasn’t a shock,” said Hatton. “I returned to the hotel and left Gareth and my father to solve it. He had an hour to bear the burden – he returned and was a bit heavier; he did not bother, he never intended to bear the burden. It was never his plan.”

Hatton returned to the hotel, relaxing, eating. Without panic, he knew what he signed, he knew exactly what he was in Los Angeles.

“They called me in a hotel and asked what I want to do and I had a choice,” continued Hatton. “I could pull out and still get 20 or 25 percent, but I had about 30 families and friends there: I was going to fight. Then they told they asked for double. I told them:” They won’t pay twice. ” I just ate and then called and they said they would pay double. “

There was a fresh agreement with the weight, submitted by men desperately to save the night; It was agreed that Alvarez could be no more than 10 pounds the next day. It sounded good, Alvarez listened and was almost kept. “They conducted the last control from 17:00 to noon, and he got on the naked scales. Later he weighed us-I had 11.1, and he was 11.12. What could I do? I always intended to fight. I never went there on vacation.”

Alvarez entered the ring about 20 pounds heavier than the initial agreed weight and was probably a heavier stone than Hatton.

“In the ring I enjoyed the atmosphere, I really was, and then came in, in one of these enormous Mexican dresses,” added Hatton. “He took it off and I looked at: the fuck, he looked like Popeye after spinach. He was huge.” I witnessed it from the ring and it really must be a nightmare vision for his opponents.

“I immediately felt the importance of his shots and the way he moved,” I knew in about a minute, “I knew it would be a hard night,” said Hatton, as honestly, as you might expect, and I could feel the emotion of the arms in his voice. “I just had to fight.”

And fight, he did it. This is not a fight you imagine, remember or a fight that was said to be so. Look, it won’t be a waste of time. Full 12 rounds tonight in Los Angeles Alvarez won points. The rest, as they say, is a story.

Boxing in Great Britain has always had a powerful connection with football fields. In recent years, Tony Bellew He fought at Goodison Park and Josh Warrington at Elland Road, while Ricky Hatton boxed before nearly 60,000 people in Manchester Stadium, now known as the Etihad stadium. In 1993, Nigel Benn and Chris Eubank aroused a classic meeting in Ancient Trafford. The most celebrated of all, Wembley Stadium was the scene of one of the largest British competitions. The first took place in 1924, when Jack Bloomfield met American, Tommy Gibbons, in a program that went bankrupt the promoter, while Muhammad Ali and Henry Cooper there in 1963.

Unfortunately, some of these great stadiums have been demolished. For the second time, when Cooper crossed the gloves from Ali, on this occasion for the heavyweight world championships, he was in Highbury in 1966. Do not outdo, the great rivals of Arsenal, Tottenham Hotspur, allowed the operate of White Hart Lane, also a long time ago, for Frank Bruno and Joe Bug in 1987 in 1987. Featherlight massive title, rejecting Harvey’s great linen. Elsewhere Bombardier Billy Wells in St James’ Park, Newcastle, in 1916, where he defeated Dick Smith from Woolwich for the title of British heavyweight.

This week I would like to talk about a series of high -class programs that took place in 1948–1951 in Selhurst Park, the Crystal Palace house, now so well in the Premier League. The land was built in 1924, but there was no boxing there after the war, when the original Crystal Palace, a magnificent glass structure built in 1851, was nearby. This building, which burned on Earth in 1936, regularly performed in boxing in the 1930s, both in the room and in the open air.

In 1948 there was an extremely good medium yield, airy and heavyweight from Croydon and nearby. Selhurst Park was only a few kilometers from here, so it was an obvious place to organize vast -scale events in this area. After the war, the sport will then flourish, with a vast number of desperate people, to return to some normality after six years of savings and difficulties. I suspect that something similar can happen this year.

Six concerts were held on Earth in this four -year period and all of them took place, as you can expect in the summer months. The weather was not only more reliable in the case of outdoor shows, but there was no football with which you could compete. The promoters of the first five events were Bill Goodwin and Alf Hart, and for the last Ron Johnson in 1951.

Albert Finch was the undoubted star of these programs [pictured above]. In 1950 he ruled the British medium champion, defeating Dick Turpin for the title, then lost him with his brother Dick, Randolph, six months later. During the first performance in Selhurst Park, in 1948, Finch beat Jock Taylor from Sidcup, in seven rounds on the bill crowned by another Croydon Middle, Mark Hart. Nine weeks later, Finch returned to win the eliminator of the Southern Medium Southern weight title against Bert Sanders Kilburn before 10,000 people. Then he defeated Hart for this title in All-Croydon, staged in the city of Davis Theater.

In 1949, in his last fight, before he challenged Dick Turpin in his first, losing, offering the British title, Finch knocked Bob Cleavera in seven rounds on earth. He returned there the next summer, in his first competition as a novel champion, when he detained Juan Torrecilla from Spain in the third. In his last duel in Selhurst, Park Finch stuck the South African Billy Wood in five rounds in May 1951. He won all five competitions at the stadium, four of them at a distance and as the crowd loved him. Finch died in 2003, but many are remembered by many in Croydon and outside.