As we lament a late promoter, there has been no shortage of press conference incidents as sport's connections battle for fans
Everyone has a Mickey Duff story. My favourite arrived while he was giving evidence in the high court in 1987 during a libel action he had brought against the Sunday Times. I was there to advise the paper's barrister, Louis Blom-Cooper QC, on boxing detail in a case that lasted three days.
When Duff was called to give evidence, he limped into the witness box, looked balefully at the jury, then turned to the judge and asked if would be all right to sit down as he had suffered a fall during a recent golf match in Spain. His honour nodded and the jury craned forward. Duff proceeded to set out the moving tale of his family's escape from the war clouds gathering over Europe, how he could neither read nor speak English until he was 11-years-old and how he went on to forge a new life through boxing in his adopted country.
It was plain he had the jury in the palm of his hand – and no great shock that he got the decision.
*THE BIG SELL *
Duff was resolutely old-fashioned in a changing era in boxing but, while he was as shocked as anyone when Errol Christie and Mark Kaylor engaged in their brawl at a press conference in London in 1985, he and his promotional partners in the Cartel knew the resulting front-page coverage did the show no harm: 12,000 turned up at Wembley Arena, and Kaylor stopped Christie in the eighth round of a terrific fight.
There has been no shortage of press conference "incidents" lately. While cynics sniff, promoters relish these meat-and-drink moments of the business.
I understand there were more than 700,000 enquiries for the 60,000 available tickets after Carl Froch responded to George "Rubik" Groves's niggling wind-up at Wembley by shoving him in the chest. Clearly the demand was there already but the video, which went viral, didn't hurt and now you couldn't swap your grandmother for a ticket. It was like a gold seal from Which magazine: this was real.
Another 10,000 tickets will go on sale soon and fighters, their connections and various industry types, including the inevitable sell-on merchants, will scramble for them alongside punters with similar urgency.
Fans, along with promoters, love excitement at the fight and they don't mind an appetiser or two – although you rarely see much bother before small-hall shows. Tyson Fury did his you-could-see-it-coming shtick last week when he kicked over a table, swore a bit and stormed out, leaving his opponent Dereck Chisora to slow-clap him on his way. Knowing laughs and quick Tweets followed. Francis Warren, Frank's son, was in charge but recovered his composure soon enough, aware that Tyson's tantrum will have driven a few more clicks on BoxNation.
Gnarled hacks (such as yours truly) have seen too many of these to be convinced of their authenticity without more proof, although having come uncomfortably close to copping a wild swing during David Haye's post-fight brawl with Chisora in Germany in 2012, I can say some are more convincing than others.
When the stakes are high, fighters' emotions inevitably red-line just before the big day – which is reason to wonder about these two carry-ons, which arrived so far ahead of the real thing. But they have become boringly predictable. It is difficult to recall a major fight in recent years that wasn't garnished by some low-grade trash talk or gratuitous handbaggery.
And who better than Don King to list his top-10 pre-fight tiffs. My personal favourite is Cassius Clay, as he was, hyperventilating before he beat Sonny Liston the first time in Miami in 1964. Tame by the gross standards of some others, it was crazy and hilarious at the same time, a master at work – and Sonny didn't have a clue what was happening (it is impossible not to crack up watching Bundini Brown in full flow).
The most unsavoury probably was the exchange between Adrien Broner and Paulie Malignaggi in Las Vegas last June, when they "dissed" the reputation of one of Paulie's girlfriend's in the crudest terms, not only naming her but calling her on the phone. Utterly low-rent, guys.
But how about these boilovers?
Danny Williams and Audley Harrison, 2006. Fernando Vargas and Ricardo Mayorga, (check the perspex), 2007:, Bernard Hopkins and Felix Trinidad (check the flag), 2001 and Hopkins and Winky Wright (check the commentator's schmooze), 2007.
*PLUS CA CHANGE*
Stunts and bluster have been part of persuading people to watch men fight probably since David slung a rock at Goliath, although you might have imagined Muhammad Ali invented the phenomenon when he opened his mouth in public more than 50 years ago.
Ali, the loudest voice in 20th Century sport, was following in a grand tradition, mind. PT Barnum is unreliably credited with giving life to the phrase, "There's a sucker born every minute," in pushing a variety of entertainment, including fisticuffs, at the original Madison Square Garden.
That was half a century at least before the arrival of Doc Kearns, no slouch himself in dressing mutton as lamb. Kearns (not a doctor, obviously, but a skilled alchemist in turning bluster into gold) famously bankrupted an entire town when he staged Jack Dempsey's world heavyweight title against Tommy Gibbons in Shelby, Montana – not long before the champ cottoned on to the fact his mentor was skinning him alive.
Thereafter, there was no shortage of quality chutzpah to sustain the business, from Mike Jacobs, who ran the Garden as if it were his personal property, through to King, who pretty much owned boxing for awhile, Ali and a string of imitators.
All of which brings us back to Tyson and Dereck and Carl and George, the latest in a long line of salesmen in the most fascinating sport of them all.
*THE KID'S GOOD BUT HE'S NO PRINCE*
As expected, Dominic Ingle's unbeaten stylist, Kid Galahad (known to friends and family as Abdul Barry Awad) looked sharp and smooth in outclassing the pedestrian Spaniard Sergio Prado for nearly ever minute of their 12-rounder to win the European super-bantamweight title at Pond's Forge in Sheffield. It was the very venue in which Naseem Hamed, the city's original wizard at that weight before he moved up to feather, won the same title 20 years ago, when he did a similar job on the Italian Vincenzo Belcastro, with Dominic's father, Brendan, beaming proudly in the corner.
Brendan was there again on Saturday night. Unsurprisingly, Hamed was not, as they have never healed the deep rift that ended one of the game's great fairytales.
But it was good to see the old boy still smiling and chatting ceaselessly, apparently recovered from the epilepsy that cut him down recently. He is not as hands on now as he once was but his Wincobank gym is ticking over nicely under the stewardship of his sons.
Galahad is in outstanding division in this country, trailing Scott Quigg, who defends his WBA "'world" title against Nehomar Cermeño in Manchester on 19 April, and Carl Frampton, who will have a WBC world title shot if he beats Hugo Fidel Cázares in Belfast on 4 April.
Can the Kid emulate the Prince? Nobody can – despite the enthusiasm of Channel 5's Al Bernstein, although he is good enough to put himself in the mix for major honours. His power is growing and he carries a catchy fight name in the long tradition of such showbiz flair at the Ingle academy.
Barry is the fifth fighter to bear the name Kid Galahad (not counting Elvis Presley). But there was only one Hamed. And thank God for that, Brendan probably thinks in quiet moments. Reported by guardian.co.uk 6 hours ago.
Everyone has a Mickey Duff story. My favourite arrived while he was giving evidence in the high court in 1987 during a libel action he had brought against the Sunday Times. I was there to advise the paper's barrister, Louis Blom-Cooper QC, on boxing detail in a case that lasted three days.
When Duff was called to give evidence, he limped into the witness box, looked balefully at the jury, then turned to the judge and asked if would be all right to sit down as he had suffered a fall during a recent golf match in Spain. His honour nodded and the jury craned forward. Duff proceeded to set out the moving tale of his family's escape from the war clouds gathering over Europe, how he could neither read nor speak English until he was 11-years-old and how he went on to forge a new life through boxing in his adopted country.
It was plain he had the jury in the palm of his hand – and no great shock that he got the decision.
*THE BIG SELL *
Duff was resolutely old-fashioned in a changing era in boxing but, while he was as shocked as anyone when Errol Christie and Mark Kaylor engaged in their brawl at a press conference in London in 1985, he and his promotional partners in the Cartel knew the resulting front-page coverage did the show no harm: 12,000 turned up at Wembley Arena, and Kaylor stopped Christie in the eighth round of a terrific fight.
There has been no shortage of press conference "incidents" lately. While cynics sniff, promoters relish these meat-and-drink moments of the business.
I understand there were more than 700,000 enquiries for the 60,000 available tickets after Carl Froch responded to George "Rubik" Groves's niggling wind-up at Wembley by shoving him in the chest. Clearly the demand was there already but the video, which went viral, didn't hurt and now you couldn't swap your grandmother for a ticket. It was like a gold seal from Which magazine: this was real.
Another 10,000 tickets will go on sale soon and fighters, their connections and various industry types, including the inevitable sell-on merchants, will scramble for them alongside punters with similar urgency.
Fans, along with promoters, love excitement at the fight and they don't mind an appetiser or two – although you rarely see much bother before small-hall shows. Tyson Fury did his you-could-see-it-coming shtick last week when he kicked over a table, swore a bit and stormed out, leaving his opponent Dereck Chisora to slow-clap him on his way. Knowing laughs and quick Tweets followed. Francis Warren, Frank's son, was in charge but recovered his composure soon enough, aware that Tyson's tantrum will have driven a few more clicks on BoxNation.
Gnarled hacks (such as yours truly) have seen too many of these to be convinced of their authenticity without more proof, although having come uncomfortably close to copping a wild swing during David Haye's post-fight brawl with Chisora in Germany in 2012, I can say some are more convincing than others.
When the stakes are high, fighters' emotions inevitably red-line just before the big day – which is reason to wonder about these two carry-ons, which arrived so far ahead of the real thing. But they have become boringly predictable. It is difficult to recall a major fight in recent years that wasn't garnished by some low-grade trash talk or gratuitous handbaggery.
And who better than Don King to list his top-10 pre-fight tiffs. My personal favourite is Cassius Clay, as he was, hyperventilating before he beat Sonny Liston the first time in Miami in 1964. Tame by the gross standards of some others, it was crazy and hilarious at the same time, a master at work – and Sonny didn't have a clue what was happening (it is impossible not to crack up watching Bundini Brown in full flow).
The most unsavoury probably was the exchange between Adrien Broner and Paulie Malignaggi in Las Vegas last June, when they "dissed" the reputation of one of Paulie's girlfriend's in the crudest terms, not only naming her but calling her on the phone. Utterly low-rent, guys.
But how about these boilovers?
Danny Williams and Audley Harrison, 2006. Fernando Vargas and Ricardo Mayorga, (check the perspex), 2007:, Bernard Hopkins and Felix Trinidad (check the flag), 2001 and Hopkins and Winky Wright (check the commentator's schmooze), 2007.
*PLUS CA CHANGE*
Stunts and bluster have been part of persuading people to watch men fight probably since David slung a rock at Goliath, although you might have imagined Muhammad Ali invented the phenomenon when he opened his mouth in public more than 50 years ago.
Ali, the loudest voice in 20th Century sport, was following in a grand tradition, mind. PT Barnum is unreliably credited with giving life to the phrase, "There's a sucker born every minute," in pushing a variety of entertainment, including fisticuffs, at the original Madison Square Garden.
That was half a century at least before the arrival of Doc Kearns, no slouch himself in dressing mutton as lamb. Kearns (not a doctor, obviously, but a skilled alchemist in turning bluster into gold) famously bankrupted an entire town when he staged Jack Dempsey's world heavyweight title against Tommy Gibbons in Shelby, Montana – not long before the champ cottoned on to the fact his mentor was skinning him alive.
Thereafter, there was no shortage of quality chutzpah to sustain the business, from Mike Jacobs, who ran the Garden as if it were his personal property, through to King, who pretty much owned boxing for awhile, Ali and a string of imitators.
All of which brings us back to Tyson and Dereck and Carl and George, the latest in a long line of salesmen in the most fascinating sport of them all.
*THE KID'S GOOD BUT HE'S NO PRINCE*
As expected, Dominic Ingle's unbeaten stylist, Kid Galahad (known to friends and family as Abdul Barry Awad) looked sharp and smooth in outclassing the pedestrian Spaniard Sergio Prado for nearly ever minute of their 12-rounder to win the European super-bantamweight title at Pond's Forge in Sheffield. It was the very venue in which Naseem Hamed, the city's original wizard at that weight before he moved up to feather, won the same title 20 years ago, when he did a similar job on the Italian Vincenzo Belcastro, with Dominic's father, Brendan, beaming proudly in the corner.
Brendan was there again on Saturday night. Unsurprisingly, Hamed was not, as they have never healed the deep rift that ended one of the game's great fairytales.
But it was good to see the old boy still smiling and chatting ceaselessly, apparently recovered from the epilepsy that cut him down recently. He is not as hands on now as he once was but his Wincobank gym is ticking over nicely under the stewardship of his sons.
Galahad is in outstanding division in this country, trailing Scott Quigg, who defends his WBA "'world" title against Nehomar Cermeño in Manchester on 19 April, and Carl Frampton, who will have a WBC world title shot if he beats Hugo Fidel Cázares in Belfast on 4 April.
Can the Kid emulate the Prince? Nobody can – despite the enthusiasm of Channel 5's Al Bernstein, although he is good enough to put himself in the mix for major honours. His power is growing and he carries a catchy fight name in the long tradition of such showbiz flair at the Ingle academy.
Barry is the fifth fighter to bear the name Kid Galahad (not counting Elvis Presley). But there was only one Hamed. And thank God for that, Brendan probably thinks in quiet moments. Reported by guardian.co.uk 6 hours ago.