No Middle Ground Read online

  Bruno’s defeat did nothing to dent the popularity of boxing in Britain. If anything, it encouraged a new generation of fans to fall in love with the sport. A trio of videos, with Tyson’s name adorning the cover, were released, with the current champion invited to talk about the great warriors of the past. To his great credit, Tyson was able to discuss the merits of Ali, Louis and Dempsey, having watched their bouts on numerous occasions when staying with his mentor and first trainer, Cus D’Amato. His enthusiasm was infectious.

  ‘I remember in 1986 [and for a few years after] that there was a period when Mike Tyson won the world title and Lloyd Honeyghan beat Don Curry – and we literally had kids outside the gym before it opened, waiting to train with us,’ recalls Mike Costello of his coaching days. Honeyghan was a British welterweight who had done then what was considered unthinkable – gone to America and beaten Don Curry, the man then regarded as the best fighter in the world. He may have developed a reputation thereafter as being flash and brash, but his victory was a reminder of why people get involved in sport. ‘Kids box because they want to win. It’s not necessarily true that they go to gyms to get away from poverty and imagine a life of riches by becoming a boxer,’ says Costello, who adds that ‘boxing was massive in that time – just in the south-east of London we had at least fifty clubs or gyms.’

  Around that time, Costello also remembers a buzz about a young middleweight who had set the amateur scene alight with his ferocious punching power. This fighter had lost just once, had taken the coveted ABA title and was about to turn professional, having missed out on a place at the Commonwealth Games in 1986. A former soldier who had served in Northern Ireland, the most dangerous place for a squaddie to be during the mid-1980s, much was expected of the apparently fearless Ilford-born Nigel Benn.

  Having changed his hairstyle for the fight, Benn also arrived in the ring in a different manner. ‘The Dark Destroyer’ danced in wearing an all-in-one silver jumpsuit, having been announced into the arena by several members of his old Royal Fusiliers regiment. As he appeared from the entrance at one end of the tent, the sign ‘Who’s Bad?’ glistened above his head. Mendy, by his side, was also dressed in a similarly garish fashion, with Benn having insisted some time ago that if he was to look ‘different’ so should his manager. It seemed over the top then, but no one was willing to argue with a man who had knocked out his last twenty-two opponents. When he finally arrived in the ring, Benn began to shadow-box, as so many fighters do before the first bell. It can often be seen as a nervous reaction, the adrenalin kicking in as a fighter prepares for battle, but there was no such hyperactivity in the Watson corner. The challenger knew what lay ahead – in fact, he had predicted a sixth-round knockout to his closest friends, all of whom made sure to make a trip to the bookmakers before each Watson contest.

  Once the two men disrobed, it became obvious to the neutral that Watson was the bigger man. ‘He looked twice my size, built like a brick shithouse!’ says Benn. Watson was taller and thicker and impassive when the two men were brought together before the first bell for their pre-fight instructions from referee John Coyle. The noise inside the tent made it hard for people to hear themselves speak and that included British commentating duo Reg Gutteridge, the voice of boxing on ITV for over twenty years, and his analyst, Jim Watt, a Scot who had held the world lightweight title during the late 1970s and early 1980s. The balance of support was overwhelmingly in favour of Benn. ‘If I thought about it too much, I’d have frightened myself to death,’ says Watson, whose core support came from those he’d grown up with – a sizeable number – and boxing devotees, who admired him for his diligence in the gym and the quality of his opposition prior to this bout. What neither man had were significant doubters who turned up merely to add their support to the one they disliked the least. You were either in one camp or the other.

  In America, Dr Ferdie Pacheco told the TV audience, ‘The excitement here is crackling’, as the first bell sounded. In the UK, Gutteridge told viewers it was ‘one of the hottest domestic showdowns I can remember. It’s really like sitting on the red alert here, waiting for the bomb to explode.’ Both Gutteridge and Pacheco’s voices seemed to accelerate in pace as they talked – that’s what a real, well-matched boxing contest can do. ‘I make no bones about it, a really good, even match, which way is it going to go, it makes the hair on your neck stand on end,’ said Jim Rosenthal, the veteran TV presenter.

  Watson, wearing red shorts, walked to the centre of the ring at the sound of that first bell and actually threw the first punches, a trio of left hooks which Benn, who had abandoned his now trademark black shorts in favour of white, blocked. After maybe ten seconds, ‘the Dark Destroyer’ unleashed his opening salvo, a fusillade of hooks with either hand, power punches with the intent to knock out his opponent. Watson, with hands up, gloves cupped around his head, elbows tucked in by his ribcage, defended stoutly and without too much discomfort, although the sheer power coming from the man in white forced him from one side of the ring to the other. ‘Can Watson survive the dangerous early rounds, it seems the only concern in his mind,’ said Gutteridge, choosing his words carefully, fearful that anything could happen at any moment. If there were psychological blows to be landed, they were being delivered by Watson, who pushed Benn away, reminding the champion of his own undoubted strength, and also establishing his jab, a punch that kept Benn at distance. Even so, the punches continued from the pursuer, left hooks and right hands, aimed at body and head.

  ‘The crowd are absolutely baying for Benn, aren’t they, Jim?’ said Gutteridge, as Watson retreated to the ropes.

  ‘Well, I thought Watson may have been a bit negative in the opening rounds, especially the opening minute, but he hasn’t. He’s been on the defensive, he’s been on the retreat, but he hasn’t been negative. He’s thrown good punches, he’s looking at Benn all the way through and keeping his own defences tight,’ answered Watt.

  And so the pattern continued for the next two minutes, with Benn going forward, following Watson in a circle, throwing punches to all parts of the body and head but not connecting cleanly. He never hit air, but the damage he was used to inflicting wasn’t apparent. Watson hadn’t winced, wasn’t cut and was still thinking clearly, making sure to throw a jab or hook at Benn’s head when the opportunity arose. His tactic of moving to his left, away from the power of Benn’s favourite punch, the left hook, meant he was largely untroubled for the majority of the opening round. At the bell, with Benn a yard from his corner, the pair exchanged a glance – Benn’s seemed to say, ‘I’ll get you soon’, while Watson smirked, as if to say, ‘I’m still here’. In America, Pacheco had told viewers that it was the first time Benn had faced a man ‘this big. Solid legs, solid middleweight and that may pose a problem.’ He also noted that every one of Benn’s punches was as hard as it could have been.

  The second round began as the first had: Watson out in the middle of the ring, throwing the first punches, showing that he could stand toe to toe with Benn. Watson threw the first blows, a combination of jabs and left hooks, controlling the first ninety seconds of the action and blocking what came back. What he was unable to do was force Benn back. The circle continued, Watson moving to his left, stalked by the champion. ‘Smart countering and covering by Watson,’ remarked Gutteridge. During the final thirty seconds, Benn pinned Watson in a corner of the ring and landed a right hand. ‘Benn got through with that one, Reg,’ said Watt. A left hook and other hard punches followed but Watson took them all and continued to throw punches back. ‘Can Benn keep this up for twelve rounds? He’s using a lot of nervous energy!’ said Pacheco. ‘He’s banking everything he’s got on these hard shots.’ Slow-motion replays showed that Benn had connected cleanly with a left hook and right hand, but Watson took the combination better than any of Benn’s previous opponents. ‘Watson is braced to take punches at all times,’ added Watt during a second round which was even more punishing than the first, with both men walking back to their corners a little
more gingerly than they had at the end of the first.

  Both seemed to have recovered their energy for the start of the third round, with Benn once again unloading with power punches. ‘Benn is standing off a few inches, and normally when he does that, he’s looking to land the really big stuff,’ said Watt, perhaps momentarily forgetful of the fact that all he had done for the previous two rounds was exactly that. By the end of the round, Benn’s punch output was down considerably from the previous two and he was happy to engage in clinches with Watson, the first sign that his energy levels were going down. All the while, Watson was controlling the tempo of the action with his concise movement around the ring and the use of a stiff jab. ‘Benn is wide open,’ noted Pacheco, who also observed that he hadn’t learned much from his brawl with Logan. The majority of the crowd seemed oblivious to the shifting nature of the fight, the chant of ‘Nigel, Nigel, Nigel!’ prominent throughout.

  The fourth round began with the first, unquestionable change in the momentum of the bout. Watson lured Benn into a corner and, after the champion had missed with a power punch, Watson took advantage and threw a handful of shots at Benn, who, for whatever reason, decided to drop his hands and invite more punishment. ‘That was a stupid thing to do,’ said Watt, as Benn finally returned fire. ‘Watson knows he can shake Benn, can drive him back,’ added Watt. ‘I can see in his movements that those punches have hurt him.’ As the Scot was uttering those words, Watson hurt Benn again, marching him back down the ring, throwing and connecting with jabs and right hands. Again, Benn returned with those big hooks and roundhouse rights. ‘His power is so natural to him, even on his way down, I think Nigel Benn could still knock somebody down,’ said Watt. But, by now, Watson knew that if he had to take the odd lick to land a dozen, it was worth the sacrifice. In America, Pacheco and his colleague Marv Albert believed that Benn was trying to lure in Watson, that he was ‘playing possum’. Perhaps more pertinently, he had now run out of ideas. All the while, Watson was growing in his role as matador: ‘look at that rope-a-dope, look at peekaboo!’ exhorted Pacheco, as the challenger rode a succession of Benn blows before returning fire towards the end of the fourth. As the bell sounded, Benn gave his opponent a respectful tap on the back. It was probably the last clean blow he’d land.

  An anecdote that Benn related about the fight for years revolves around instructions given to him by trainer Brian Lynch before the start of the fifth round.

  ‘Just go out there and steam him, Nigel,’ Lynch is reported to have said.

  ‘I’m looking at the boxing manual and I can’t find that phrase! I know I’m in trouble. All he had to say was cover up and take your time and land your shots,’ says Benn. At the same time, Watson saw his opponent’s father and winked at him. The gesture’s significance was obvious – Watson was telling Dickson Benn that he ‘had his boy’.

  The fifth round was the most savage of the fight – both men dug in and landed brutal, vicious punches. But the sight of Benn retreating on two occasions signified that his fire was starting to burn out. Dispirited and now swollen around his eyes – some blamed the haircut for the swelling, but not Benn – he looked more the destroyed than destroyer as the bell sounded to end the round. Neither man could continue for twelve rounds at this pace, but Watson looked better equipped for the immediate future. The statistics, which had always favoured him, were now being quoted by ringside sages – Watson averaged over five rounds of action per fight, while Benn was programmed to brawl for two. ‘Watson’s fighting a very intelligent fight,’ added Pacheco as the fifth round came to an end. ‘There are no lumps or marks on his face.’

  In his corner Watson could feel the fight had swung his way. Benn’s punches, ‘the hardest I ever felt’, were no longer as painful as they had been during the first four rounds. He had, after all, told his inner circle that the sixth round would be his moment of glory. With Benn being instructed by Lynch ‘box him, box him’, Watson opened up with a flurry of punches, culminating in a straight right hand. Benn backed away, holding a glove to his eye. ‘He got thumbed, he got thumbed,’ shouted Pacheco. A thumb in the eye is an old professional’s trick, designed to close the opponent’s eye. Benn would suffer such a trick at the hands of another British fighter later in his career, but at this moment he had just been discouraged. ‘A perfect punch, Reg. There was nothing wrong with that punch,’ exclaimed Watt. Referee Coyle urged Benn to continue, which he did. But by now, the end was in sight.

  ‘I was just exhausted,’ says Benn. ‘I was hitting him hard, and he just rolled, rolled. He always knew what was coming. All week, Michael had heard the talk that I was going to come out like an express train and all he had to do was cover up and I’d burn myself out. He never hurt me.’

  Benn had one last burst of energy, tempting Watson on to him and throwing a handful of blows, all of which were blocked. His balance now gone, the champion was finally floored by a straight jab. ‘Oh, he’s gone!’ shouted Gutteridge, ‘so the big hitter has been hit.’ ‘Down goes Benn!’ said Marv Albert on the other side of the Atlantic. ‘A pinpoint left hand.’ Benn, for what seemed like an eternity had been in midair, until he landed flat on his back. It almost felt as if, as his body landed, the crowd didn’t know what to think. For the briefest of moments there was silence. And then a roar, from Watson’s supporters, who, like their man, had waited patiently before really letting themselves go. Benn, oblivious to the noise, rolled slowly to his right, got himself on to one knee and cut a dispirited, pathetic figure. The referee counted to ten, all the while looking at the timekeeper, ignoring the fact that Benn had got up at nine. As he turned to Benn, Coyle automatically waved the fight off, perhaps indicating that he had already decided to end the bout after the knockdown. There were no protests from the beaten man, who immediately sought out an exuberant and elated Watson for a congratulatory hug. Benn was being spoken to by Duff. All the while, Watson was being feted by friends and his cornermen, very few of whom had genuinely believed he could pull off what was already being described as an upset. In the end, he was brought to a neutral corner for an interview with ITV’s Jim Rosenthal.

  ‘The main object was to keep my composure. I knew if I used my left hand, everything would flow from there. I was catching him with some good shots … I was punching with bad intentions,’ Watson told Rosenthal. ‘I must give credit to Nigel Benn. He promoted this fight very well. He gave me one of my hardest fights so far – he was very strong. He throws some solid shots.’

  Benn had by now fled the ring, chased by Frank Bruno. The pair were friends, who would eventually spend time training together in Tenerife and could often be seen ringside cheering on the other. When Bruno found Benn on this evening, his friend was in his changing room, crying. By now, manager Mendy had been alerted to the fact that his fighter had left the ring and joined the inquest. ‘It’s all gone, the gold, the girls, the houses, it’s all gone! I’ve fucked up,’ said Benn. Boxer and manager had a frank exchange of views, before Benn was encouraged to go back into the ring, as he had done at the start of the night, flanked by his former Fusilier comrades. The beaten man grabbed the ringside microphone and told the audience how great a champion Watson was. When asked by NBC television what had happened, he replied simply: ‘I got my arse kicked! But make no mistake, I’ll be back.’ Operation Save Face had begun.

  The evening had started as Nigel Benn’s coming-out party. Twenty-two wins over opponents that few had heard of had made him a television fixture because of the way he knocked them out. But he hadn’t been tested. His supporters believed he would win but expected some resistance from the opposition. As Watson had covered up and fired back in the early rounds, it had looked as if it might be a tricky night for Benn. But by the time the end came, as sudden and dramatic as it was, it wasn’t a surprise. Out of ideas and stamina, with his eyes swollen, he had the look of a beaten man. Even so, seeing someone so feared on his backside, a man who many felt was unbeatable, was an unforgettable image. If you were old enough t
o remember Foreman’s cloak of invincibility being removed by Ali, the sight of a ring bully being dismantled wasn’t a new experience. But for those who were new to the sport, who had climbed on to the Benn bandwagon because of the violence and the glitz, the sight of their man on the floor, devoid of fight, was shocking. In the battle of the two most promising middleweights in the country, a definitive answer to the question of who was the best had been given. They’d expected one punch to end the fight and it had. But it had not come from the fighter they believed in.

  For Watson it would be the biggest win of his career and would earn him a fight with the WBA middleweight champion Mike McCallum, the talented Jamaican who had recently beaten Herol Graham. In theory, the world was his oyster. But boxing never works as smoothly as fighters hope. Nevertheless, Watson would watch his Arsenal team win the league title five days later and then see his mate McDonnell beat Barry McGuigan as their bet came in. The questions about his talent had been answered – he might never be box office, but here was proof that old-fashioned values of dedication and hard work could prosper. He’d watched the vast majority of the country get carried away by Benn’s ferocious demeanour, which he knew was part real but also part of the business. He knew he was a more complete fighter but he also wasn’t prepared to say or do the things that Benn would to remain in the spotlight. There was always a bit of theatre about Benn, an aura and also an expectation that he’d say and do things that made people notice. He represented so much of a period in which people got rich quickly and then found that their wealth had been built on uncertain foundations. Watson offered a stark contrast to Benn’s approach – there were no short cuts on his road to the top. He’d learned his trade, how to box, fight and defend. His journey to the top had been longer and more demanding but the proof of whether it was worth it would be examined again when he fought McCallum.