To casual fans of the sport in polite conversation in the office or across the pool table I can appear to know everything about boxing. Of course I don’t, in fact I can barely scratch the surface if really pushed on fighters of the modern era or times gone by in comparison with true boxing historians. I just appear, in comparison to those for whom boxing is a by-gone curiosity or a console game, to be the Obi-Wan Kenobi of the noble art. I state this to alleviate the disappointment I felt on realising Cedric Boswell would not be the dangerous watershed for Roman Greenberg I presumed he would.

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