Article first appeared at BigFightWeekend.com

To each their own. Every generation venerates a new clutch of heroes. My grandfather was born in the era of Jack Dempsey, marvelled at Joe Louis and was a contemporary of fellow Doncastrian Bruce Woodcock, who could fight a bit. His voice whispered through the pages of the books I inherited on his passing in 1984 too, Ali was the best of them all the collection suggested. He was gone before Iron Mike tore through the late 80s and before the seeds of love for the sport he planted blossomed into interest.

For children of the 70s like me, it was all about Tyson; inescapable, unique, intoxicating. But he was also out of reach. Seen through the prism of highlights and delayed screenings. Domestically, it was Nigel Benn and Chris Eubank, with a fleeting dose of McGuigan, and a sprinkling of Big Frank.

Continue reading “Eubank, nostalgia and the glow of the past” →