Nigel Benn

by Nigel Benn

  Finally, the ref decided he’d seen enough. I was declared the winner on a technical knockout.

  Now that I had secured my superior belt, Eubank was fuming. He didn’t like the fact that I held the premier belt and could dictate the terms of our next fight. I told everybody that perhaps I should be like him and line up ten fighters and fight a bum a month. But that wasn’t my style. I’d fight anyone, and not pick and choose like Eubank.

  On 6 March 1993, I retained my world title in Glasgow against Mauro Galvano. It was a long 12 rounds, but I won on points even though he caught me with a good shot at the end which made my legs go.

  My next fight was against Lou Gent, the Cockney WBC International Champion, at Olympia on 26 June. This was a fight that whetted the public’s appetite for the match everybody was waiting for — the unification fight against Eubank which was scheduled for 9 October in Manchester.

  I had total respect for Lou Gent. We didn’t go in for any of the pre-fight stuff, slagging each other off. But, as I’ve said before, you can tell a lot from a man’s eyes, and when I studied his I could tell that he was totally intimidated by me. He went down three times in the third and twice in the fourth, but respect to him, because he kept coming back. But he was weak by the end, and the ref had to give it to me in the fourth.

  So the next fight was the big one against Eubank. But before that, something even more important happened. On 12 July 1993, Sharron gave birth to my second daughter, Renée — the most beautiful little girl in the world. I didn’t even know that Sharron was pregnant until she told me in the middle of an argument.

  We were quarrelling, and I told her she was overweight. ‘Look at the state of you,’ I said.

  She turned on me. ‘You bastard! I’m pregnant.’

  In sheer surprise and shock, I stupidly retorted, ‘Who’s the father?’ before realising my inexcusable mistake. I was, of course. She went mad, but I didn’t mean it to come out like that.

  Sharron had a difficult time with the pregnancy, but the result was wonderful, although Renée got us really worried when she went blue at birth, and had to have a tube inserted up her nose. I thought she was going to die, and felt so angry and helpless I could have punched someone. She has big, big eyes and a cute face. Such a beautiful little girl, and funny with it. Really bright and inquisitive. At six months she had already worked out the TV controls.

  I was the first British boxer to be paid a purse of £1 million for a British-staged fight. My opponent, Eubank, who held a lesser title, had to accept £850,000. A global TV audience of over 100 million was expected. Our measurements, apart from Eubank’s swollen head, were very similar. We were evenly matched in height, weight, reach and chest. The bout was staged at Manchester United’s Old Trafford Stadium because neither Eubank nor I wanted to meet at Tottenham’s White Hart Lane as that is where Michael had suffered brain damage.

  Peter De Freitas rubbed salt into Eubank’s wounded pride by saying, ‘We now have a contract with Barry Hearn and Don King, who acts for Showtime TV in America. We are being paid £1 million but I understand Eubank is on considerably less. This is because Nigel Benn is recognised as the premier champion. King and TV are only interested in our WBC super-middleweight title. They want the winner in unification bouts with James Toney and Michael Nunn. Eubank’s WBO championship is not really relevant. It hasn’t the prestige of the big three — the WBC, WBA and IBF. Now, it is finally settled that Nigel goes into the ring as champion. Chris will have to wait for him on the night. The fight will be handled by WBC officials and Nigel has all the rights of the title holder — as well as the major purse.’

  Eubank’s explosive mouth would now be publicly put to the test and, to help him remember, the newspapers printed some of his big-headed remarks which he was forced to swallow after the contest. He had said of me, ‘I want to put Benn on the floor — just 10 or 11 seconds will do. Long enough to leave no room for controversy … He said we can now meet for the re-match — even my wife thinks he will duck it … I’m a clever, intelligent boxer, but he is an ignorant man … Benn is a Fairy Liquid fighter and one day the bubble will burst. Class will always prevail — I have it, he doesn’t.’

  At the press conference, I started as I meant to go on. I walked round to his chair and snapped, ‘I don’t fucking like you!’ It’s true — I really thought he was a total prick, with his monocle and stupid clothes, pretending he was from the silver spoon society. He still talks a load of bollocks to this day!

  Forty-seven thousand people were at Old Trafford for what was going to be one of the biggest fights in British history. The atmosphere was absolutely brilliant — Old Trafford was the best venue I have ever fought in. It was the only time I ever had a £1 million purse, but to be honest, I was still reeling from being world champion. The money was nice, but it was only secondary.

  It was a long fight — the full 12 rounds, but by the end I was sure the match was mine. And I wasn’t alone — when a draw was announced, the crowd booed, and the boxing press afterwards seemed to be on my side.

  I was disgusted with the score. I was convinced I had won and believed, like many others, that I had beaten Eubank on points, even with the lost penalty point. Hearn wasn’t looking too happy with his man so he obviously feared the worst. I was too angry to face the press conference. Judge Castellano had me winning in the last six rounds, but what the hell was I doing in the first six? Later, yielding to pressure, they released details of the judges’ scorecards, which makes it clear that new rules ought to be drawn up on the scoring system. Harry Gibbs scored a victory for Eubank; Carol Castellano and Chuck Hassert scored a points victory for me, before deduction of the penalty point. This is the official score:

  OFFICIAL SCORECARDS

  [My scores are recorded first]

  GIBBS CASTELLANO HASSETT

  R1 9-10 9-10 9-10

  R2 9-10 9-10 10-9

  R3 10-9 9-10 9-10

  R4 10-9 10-9 10-9

  R5 9-10 9-10 10-10

  R6 10-10 9-10 9-10

  R7 10-9 10-9 9-10

  R8 9-10 10-9 10-9

  R9 9-10 10-9 10-9

  R10 10-9 10-9 10-9

  R11 9-10 10-9 9-10

  R12 10-9 10-9 10-9

  Totals: 114-115 (Eubank) 115-113 (Benn) 115-114 (Benn)

  I was then deducted a point by each judge for a low blow in the sixth:

  Totals: 113-115 (Eubank) 114-113 (Benn) 114-114 (Benn)

  Don King, the American promoter, had taken part in the promotion of this match and guaranteed the purse. Under the terms of our contract, both Eubank and I, regardless of whether we won or lost, would have had to sign with Don King for each of our next three fights, and King was, at that time, negotiating with Frank Warren for a TV tie-up in the future. In our respective agreements, no option was given for the unlikely event of a draw, as a result of which Eubank was no longer committed to King. That was good news for Hearn. He had already lost Chris Pyatt to Frank Warren and would not have wanted to lose one of his big earners to King. Eubank was worth in the region of £200,000 per fight to him, so God was obviously smiling on the pair that evening.

  My only consolation after the fight was being able to forget some of my anger through the diversion of a superb party laid on by my pal Rolex Ray. He’d organised a Manchester club for an all-night bash and then hired a Pullman coach at £2,000 a day — the only one in Britain and which had been used by Madonna — for our return to London the following day.

  17

  GERALD McCLELLAN

  American promoter Don King is a larger-than-life figure, and a powerful man. I signed a three-fight deal with him in October 1993, the first of which would be my mandatory defence against Henry Wharton in four months’ time. King joined forces with Frank Warren, with the hope that Jarvis Astaire and Mickey Duff would participate in the future. He described me as ‘an awesome performer. The Americans will love his style.’

  Don himself is not short of style. He came over to Britain for my
fight and wore his diamond-and-gold jewellery at a press conference in the House of Commons. Opinions vary about Don. Some wouldn’t touch him with a barge pole; others have made mega bucks. Larry Holmes, who was a heavyweight champion, said, ‘Even now, people whisper in my ear about how he exploited me all those years. Well, I made 20 million bucks with Don King. If that’s exploitation, keep it coming.’

  Another American heavyweight, Randall ‘Tex’ Cobb, said of Don, ‘Don King is one of the great humanitarians of our time. He has risen above prejudice. He has screwed everybody he has ever been around — hog, dog or frog, it don’t matter to Don. If you got a quarter, he wants the first 26 cents.’

  He’s a tough man. He spent time in prison for manslaughter after growing up in a Cleveland ghetto. Now he’s worth around half a billion dollars and has a lot of clout. People don’t mess with Don.

  I trained in Tenerife for the fight — described as the ‘finest’ in my career — the title bout with Henry Wharton. Sean, my cook, Jimmy Tibbs, my trainer, and Peter De Freitas, my personal manager, accompanied me.

  Apart from being a good companion and friend, Sean is a terrific cook who always ensured that I took my vitamin pills. I once met a chap called Arthur who wrote about nutrition and on reading his theories, I was convinced this man would make me a world champion. I flew to his home town in America to check it out and he drew up a list of vitamins for me to take, as well as a nutrition plan. He suggested plenty of iron tablets — about 50 a day, which supplies more oxygen to the blood. The diet included eating chicken and fish for breakfast. Sean would cook me salmon, which I love with sweet potatoes, vegetables and red peppers. In total, I had to take about 120 tablets a day to ensure I was getting the right amount of vitamins and minerals, such as calcium and potassium.

  I needed all of these supplements throughout my rigorous training schedule, otherwise my body would seize up. I could lose up to six pounds of body fluid in one training session and I wanted to come out firing on all cylinders and give it my best shot. Training for this fight was hard. It really brought home to me the strain I was putting my body through. That was an indication I should think about quitting.

  I got my schedule down to a fine art. I’d get up about 9.00am and have breakfast of fish or chicken and a bowl of porridge with a banana. Then I’d take 15 iron tablets, two zinc, two multivitamin and some other tablets and, afterwards, drive to Mount Teide to a level of 8,000–9,000ft above sea level. That would take 45 minutes, by which time the tablets would have been digested. The air up there is really thin. It took me quite a long time to understand about altitude training but I eventually mastered it.

  I ran about eight miles every day for a week. Then I increased the distance to ten and then twelve, before reducing it to eight, and then up again to as high as fifteen. I was careful not to overdo it. As I’ve said, I love the altitude; it’s the only place where I feel so much at peace with myself. There is no one to bother you. It’s like paradise. It’s so beautiful.

  For lunch, Sean would vary my diet. One day it might be tropical fruits, or chicken and pasta or fish. I had fish three or four times a week. Fish, chicken and pasta, in rotation. I’m not a fussy eater. I can eat anything except mushrooms and butter beans.

  After my training session, which included gym work with Jimmy as I’ve already described, I’d relax in front of the television or play Playstation games. The body needs time to relax. We used to train three times a day but that was too excessive, so we cut it down to twice a day. Jimmy knew how to get me buzzing. He and I both liked the pads and he always got the best out of me. He is very aggressive but knows what he is doing. Some people who had trained me in the past didn’t really know what they were doing. Jimmy pushes me to my limit, which is important. We tried to cover every muscle of the body, even the neck. We put 100 per cent effort into training.

  The training is so intense that it is difficult to believe you’re putting yourself through such a strenuous regime. Compared to that, the fight is easy. Timing is also very important. You’ve got to pace yourself and not peak too early. You have to know when to slow down or even stop for a day. I’m not going to kill myself. I only wish I knew what I know now when I was 25.

  Another thing I learned was not to underestimate my opponent. Henry is a very good fighter and he reminds me of myself. He had knocked out almost everybody else, just like I had, but I thought he still had a lot to learn and I would start teaching him. He was a dangerous fighter, but I’d been with them all — Barkley, De Witt, Simms, Watson, Eubank. I’d been with all the tough guys and I wasn’t scared. I just wanted to be the king of the tough guys.

  Wharton was one of my toughest fights. Not necessarily the hardest, but certainly the toughest. Although I beat him on points and retained my title, I’d never come out of a ring as bruised as I did after that fight. My kidneys were quite badly affected and I had to undergo hospital checks which, thankfully, quelled my fears and found my kidneys to be 100 per cent OK. I’d been whacked in the kidneys before, but I’d never felt it like I did with Wharton. I thought our fight would run the whole course so I didn’t go for a knockout. Henry could be a future world champion. He was a strong boy.

  I think the incentive for me to prove myself in that fight was less for me, which was also a sign of getting older. I wasn’t as hungry. Immediately after the bout, I felt I was losing it a bit because this was the worst I’d ever been beaten up, worse than with Eubank. I needed a new challenge, a new title to keep the hunger alive. I think if I had been the contender, I would have sparked him, but I was the veteran now, the old boy. Let him go for it. Everyone thought it was my best fight but I wasn’t sure.

  A couple of days later I fell over on the stairs outside my flat. I was in lots of pain and went back to hospital. It was as though there was a voice telling me, ‘Hey, hurry up and end your career.’ Still, Wharton fought well, but not well enough.

  In spite of my pain, I still went out afterwards to a champagne party Ray threw in a Kensington disco, and dee-jayed until the early hours of the morning. Booze was flowing by the gallon but I was too absorbed as a DJ to drink much. Besides, my kidneys were aching. The next day, I passed blood and went immediately to hospital at Redbridge — on the same site I had once guarded as a security man.

  Wharton also said it was the toughest fight of his career and was grateful I had given him the opportunity.

  Throughout this time, my personal life was as traumatic as ever. Things had been going badly with Sharron, and we just seemed to spend our time hurting each other and arguing. We split up in a whirlwind of acrimony, although it was not until 1996 that we actually divorced. When I think back on my life with Sharron, I feel bitter. OK, I know I did things wrong, but it takes two to tango, and no one can claim that she can’t also take some share of the blame.

  By this time, though, I was together with Carolyne, the beautiful woman I was later to marry. Over the years, we’ve been through some tough times. But she’s always been there for me.

  We first got to know each other in about 1991, and when we first met, I knew from the way she made me feel that she was different. Even in the early days, if we couldn’t see each other, we’d speak on the phone for hours on end, talking about anything that came into our heads. She was not like the other girls I had known — she was particularly genuine and intelligent. She understood me for what I am, and I, in turn, felt an affinity with her like I’d never felt before. She was, and is, everything to me.

  Carolyne never asked me for anything, unlike some of the other gold-diggers out there I’d met from time to time. She brought a whole new meaning to my life, and I will always be grateful to her for being there for me, for understanding the pressure I was under and sticking by me through thick and thin. I know I’ve done things to hurt her in the past, but since meeting her I have changed so much for the better — I’m a different man, and it’s all thanks to Carolyne. She is now my wife, my lover, my mentor and my very, very best friend.

&nb
sp; It was more than six months until my next fight. At the beginning of my career, I was fighting 13 times a year. Now I knew the end was in sight, so I started becoming more selective, concentrating on the big-money fights. Juan Giminez came and went on 10 September 1994, beaten on points, and then there was a five-month build-up until I went into the ring with Gerald McClellan.

  Carolyne and I had moved out to LA earlier on in 1994, because we needed to get away from the pressure of being in England. And in LA we had some wild times. The first day we arrived, we checked into a fantastic hotel, and it was like paradise — we were on our own, no one to hassle me, money rolling in. But we couldn’t live in hotels all the time, so I found us a wicked apartment in the Marina del Ray. It took me a week to furnish it to my taste, with floor-to-ceiling TVs, a huge seven-foot bed, sofas, the works.

  I bought my Porsche 959 out in LA, too. I wandered into a showroom and said to the guy, ‘How much is this Porsche 959?’ He told me it was such-and-such thousand dollars.

  ‘I want that Porsche,’ I told him.

  ‘OK,’ he said. He walked off and didn’t return. He must have thought I was one of those rough street hoodlums or something.

  So two days later, I had a banker’s draft ready. I went back to the showroom and said to the guy, ‘You thought I couldn’t buy this car, didn’t you?’

  He spluttered, ‘No, sir … no, sir.’

  ‘Yes, you did.’ I just thought, Fuck you, I’ve got the money. I assumed he was just looking at me thinking, He’s a black man, he can’t have all that. Well, like fuck I can’t, mate.