No Middle Ground

by Sanjeev Shetty

  That was reflected in the way he fought. Since he had hooked up with Jimmy Tibbs in the summer of 1992, he had fought with measured aggression (in the first fight with Galvano), with the air of a champion (against Piper) and like a man going through the motions (in the rematch with the Italian). Absent from that list was the one kind of fight with which he was synonymous – a tear-up. But one of those was on the way. With so much vulnerability evident in his last bout, Benn was matched, sensibly, against journeyman Lou Gent, who had no real right to be in the same ring as his fellow Londoner. But the ratings can be manipulated if the occasion demands. Gent held the WBC international middleweight title, which gave him an automatic top ten spot in the governing body’s list of contenders. There were almost certainly twenty or thirty men more deserving of the chance to fight Benn and the fact that Gent had won just three of his last six didn’t seem to bother the capacity crowd at Earl’s Court on a tense June evening. It didn’t bother ITV, either, who were also showing the fight live on a Saturday night. Why? Well, in Eubank they had a guy who apparently everyone wanted to see lose (although the cheers for his name which seemed to multiply with every fight seemed to suggest popularity and loathing in equal measure), and in Benn they had someone who could lose at any moment. And if you’re selling sport to a Saturday night TV audience, predictability is not a valued asset. Apart from that, it seemed the preamble for Benn–Eubank II had gone on for too long. As the wait continued, the viewers needed entertaining.

  The sales pitch for this bout was that Gent, a natural light heavyweight, would enter the ring maybe a stone heavier than Benn, having gorged himself after making the weight the night before. The challenger’s father had bet on his son to stop the champion in any one of the twelve rounds. If there was fear in the Benn camp, it wasn’t obvious. He told those close to him that he saw fear in Gent’s eyes. The first two rounds were pretty even, as the balding, tattooed Gent forced the pace. But at the start of the third, Benn landed a left hook that illustrated the challenger’s problem. Having slimmed down to make the weight, he had neither the strength nor the power to discourage the champion. He went down from that hook, got up, fought back and then went down again. From the start of the third through to the middle of the fourth, he was floored five times, on each occasion falling heavily but getting up without much difficulty. By the time of the fifth knockdown, Benn had worked out that Gent’s abdomen could not take the punishment, each hook south of the ribcage causing the challenger to wince. Referee Larry O’Connell signalled enough was enough after Gent hit the canvas for the fifth time and promoters on both sides of the Atlantic breathed a sigh of relief. The big fight was already being talked about as an event in October at recently crowned Premier League champions Manchester United’s Old Trafford. Now all that needed sorting was the money. Given the animosity that lingered between Benn and Eubank, it wasn’t just a case of how much they would be paid as who would get the most.

  Scene IV

  ‘Judgement Day’ was the title of the promotion that saw Nigel Benn and Chris Eubank square off for the second time nearly three years after their first bout. At stake would be the WBC super middleweight title that Benn held, but after the initial negotiations Eubank’s belt would not be. By the time the fight was staged, both titles were on the line in what was, at the time, a rare unification bout and the first between two British fighters in their own country. October the 9th was the date and the venue was Old Trafford. Eubank had never professed any great love for football whereas Benn had always been marketed as an East End boy, a West Ham man, like his cousin Paul Ince, who was now playing for Manchester United. Privately, Benn would admit to being only a casual football fan and that if he did have a team it was the one at whose ground he was about to fight. ‘Judgement Day’ seemed to reflect the nature of the rivalry and it also mimicked the subtitle of one of the most popular films of recent times, the second of The Terminator films.

  Benn had managed, through his adviser Peter DeFreitas, to negotiate a million pound purse for the rematch, a couple of hundred thousand more than his opponent, who was paid less because the value of his belt wasn’t as high – the WBO still had no credibility in America. There was also an increasing darkness around Benn – the criticism of the way he fought, his vulnerability and the fact that he wasn’t knocking people out as regularly as he once had. And, of course, he was about to fight Eubank. When his hatred for the WBO champion was put to one side, the cold, hard fact was that he had lost their first fight, without controversy. On paper and in the opinion of virtually everyone, he could not claim to be the better man. All those criticisms, which were entirely valid, irked him in a way that only his opponent otherwise did. His training for Eubank was done in secret, in Tenerife, with no deliberate leaks to the press about either his condition or his mood. Behind closed doors, Benn was taking things very seriously indeed.

  ‘Nigel wanted revenge. When we finally got the chance for revenge, we trained really hard,’ says Jimmy Tibbs, who, despite talk in the media that he would be dropped from the team, remained Benn’s cornerman for the bout. ‘I said to Nigel, “What you’ve got to do to this guy, you just can’t go out there and hope to slug him out. And knock him out in three rounds. It might happen, but it probably won’t. You’ve got to be in front of him and make him work for three minutes of every round. Bobbing and weaving, bobbing and weaving.”’ It was an extension of the strategy that Benn had been employing since he’d taken Tibbs on a year earlier. The difference was that the opposition was superior.

  In contrast, Eubank was delighting in the spotlight, the place in which he was happiest. As he had done before previous fights, the Brighton man would hold public training sessions, hitting the pads held by trainer Ronnie Davies and pontificating at length about the fight game and his opponents, past and present. It was a reminder of one of the inner battles that Eubank faced – he might have hated the sport that made him, but he loved the sport that had made him a star. And now he had a contest which, everyone hoped, would take him out of his comfort zone and bring the best out of him. In the first Benn fight, he had demonstrated a champion’s heart and the knack of knowing when to strike. And against Watson, he had shown in their second fight an unbelievable ability to take punishment and still think clearly, even when defeat seemed on the cards.

  To handle a star, you need to be either patient, tolerant or understanding. Ideally all three. That summed up Ronnie Davies, who Eubank used as cornerman for his fights as well as camp manager. Davies admitted in the build-up that their relationship had not always been as easy as it seemed. ‘There were times in the past when he used to drive me mad. He was working in my gym and telling me what to do and that caused some terrible slanging matches,’ said Davies. ‘But he’s a perfectionist and in the end turned out to be right. He now gets his own way, deciding what time he trains and when he runs. In fact he’s a dream to train and I don’t really train him, no one can. He comes out with moves I’ve never seen.’

  Davies also had to be aware of where Eubank had taken him in the sport. During his own career as a lightweight during the 1960s, his best ever purse was £175. Now he was earning thousands more without having to take any of the punishment. And because Eubank insisted that everyone associated with him had to dress in the style he approved of, Davies was also the owner of some custom-made designer suits.

  The fight game in Britain was booming – just a week prior to ‘Judgement Day’, WBC heavyweight champion Lennox Lewis defended his title against national hero Frank Bruno in the first ever all British world title fight in boxing’s glamour division. The bout was staged in Cardiff, at the city’s much loved rugby stadium, the Arms Park. The fight had plenty of bad feeling, maybe more than the Benn–Eubank rematch, ostensibly because Lewis called Bruno an ‘Uncle Tom’ in the build-up, in reference to the challenger’s amiable countenance and ability to poke fun at himself in interviews and regular appearances in pantomime, which ran counter to the image of black fighters in Britain at t
he time.

  Lewis would win inside seven evenly contested rounds on a night that suggested problems for the promotion the following week as well as boxing in the future. Cardiff on an early October evening was cold, especially with the bout taking place in the early hours of the morning and in an open-air stadium. One of the enduring images of the night was Lewis wrapped in a blanket between rounds, in order to prevent his muscles seizing. And the stadium, which could hold around 60,000 spectators, wasn’t even half full. Just over 25,000 made it that night but the cost of the tickets did not reflect the demand. And the undercard, as it was, provided unremarkable entertainment, the exception being the professional debut of a heavily hyped former amateur star called Joe Calzaghe.

  More worrying were those empty seats. A fight between two London-born men should not really have been taking place more than 200 miles away from the place where both had entered the world. Making matters worse was the time of the fight – shown late so that TV audiences in the USA could watch at their convenience – as well being screened on satellite TV in Great Britain. A week later ITV devoted nearly three hours to their coverage of the Benn–Eubank rematch, with an audience of over sixteen million turning up the volume. A fraction of that number would even be able to watch the heavyweights duke it out and, whereas four years earlier, six million had tuned in to see a preview of Bruno’s challenge for Mike Tyson’s title, this time round there was no preview to be found on terrestrial television. For all its uniqueness, Lewis–Bruno had failed to fire the imagination of the common man.

  The likes of Barry Hearn and Don King must have been slightly concerned about the wisdom of making two London-born middleweights scrap it out 200 miles away from the nation’s capital. But in 1993, Old Trafford held around 45,000, and by the night of the fight over 40,000 tickets had been sold, with terrace tickets going for a much more reasonable £25. Hearn and King were also aware that this fight needed no ‘Uncle Tom’ type of insults to increase the hype. Fight fans had been waiting nearly three years for something they’d have paid for several times during that period. Still, on the night before, to the surprise of no one who lived in Manchester, it rained. With those sitting on the seats erected on the Old Trafford turf exposed to any rainfall, the expected downpour could well dampen spirits.

  As it transpired, the rain stayed away. The fight was broadcast just after 10 p.m., inviting a mainstream audience, and the temperature was around 50 degrees Fahrenheit in the ground and likely to be higher in the ring. And those who were watching at home were probably feeling the heat as well. In a departure from the normal broadcasting format, ITV had recorded a preview programme for the bout, with both boxers brought together in the studio to be interviewed by rising celebrity Jonathan Ross. An audience, comprised, it seemed, of stars from showbiz and sport were in attendance. For a brief moment, Ross interviewed both men together, asking them why they didn’t like each other. Eubank professed to having no dislike for his fellow champion, a claim that would be undermined by a quote from him in which he said, ‘Nigel, you’re not the man you portray yourself to be. I always said you were a fraud and I don’t mean to be impolite.’ For Benn’s part, he would tell Ross, ‘Chris has beaten me and I respect him as a boxer. He punches hard and I respect him. As a person, I don’t like the way he conducts himself.’ At no time was there any chance of an unscheduled confrontation. Both men smiled and displayed the charisma that seems to have bypassed so many athletes before or since. At one point, when answering a question about how hard Benn punched, Eubank reeled off a series of stats about his opponent. After a moment, Benn got up from his chair and walked over to Eubank, who stood up to meet him, but Benn simply made as if to put some money in his rival’s hand, as if saying thank you. Then, for one of the few times during their rivalry, the two men exchanged a grin. People always expected Benn to lose his cool when Eubank was standing next to him. There were stories of him threatening to do Eubank harm when, by chance, they bumped into each other in lifts before both fights and that only the presence of Barry Hearn or Ronnie Davies prevented a brawl. But Benn knew that when the cameras were on he had to keep his fists to himself, unless the pair were in a boxing ring. Benn had not mellowed with age but he understood that if he started something in a studio he risked losing some of the support and goodwill he had.

  After a few more questions, Ross interviewed both men separately. Sir Henry Cooper was invited to pass comment on the fight and said simply that there seemed to be too much anger in this one, perhaps forgetting how much dislike there had been between him and Joe Erskine back in the 1950s and 1960s. There was also a prescient moment when Barry McGuigan said he felt that Eubank was slightly misunderstood, describing him as a ‘genuinely good guy’. There was time for an excerpt from Spitting Image, which mocked Eubank, and also a sparky satellite link-up with a gym in Miami. Sitting in a seat there was actor Mickey Rourke, who at the time was having the occasional fight at middleweight, while also hanging out with some of boxing’s cognoscenti. As it happened, he had got to know Benn when the Englishman was based in Florida after losing to Michael Watson. Rourke was there to add a little glitter, as well as sell himself, but the real reason was to introduce an acquaintance of his, the IBF super middleweight champion, James ‘Lights out’ Toney. While the WBA champion Michael Nunn, in theory, awaited the winner at Old Trafford, it was Toney who was regarded by many as the one to beat. He had knocked out both Nunn and Iran Barkley on his way to winning world titles at middleweight and his current division. And he had done all this at the age of just twenty-five. He also had victories over Mike McCallum and Doug DeWitt and was a candidate for boxing’s mythical ‘pound-for-pound’ title, the unofficial award for the boxer considered the best at any weight. He was also a boxing writer’s dream, because he could and would say anything to his opponents. Benn and Eubank were about to become his latest targets.

  When asked by Ross who he thought would win in Manchester, Toney’s response was simple and to the point: ‘I don’t care who wins. I’ll fight either one of them. In fact I’ll fight them on the same night if you want.’ Benn and Toney exchanged a few words, although it proved to be lightweight compared to the treatment Eubank received. As the WBO champion pondered his choice of words, Toney lashed out again: ‘When I see you, I’m going to beat you and your momma’s ass. There are no fighters in England. They’re all bums.’

  In later years, Eubank would rue the exchanges, although it should be pointed out that he was merely the recipient of the barbs and not the giver. He believes that his association with such behaviour deprived him of the kind of endorsements and sponsorships which could have made him even more of a crossover star. But his response at the time was fascinating. When asked by Ross to explain why he had been so quiet, this was his reply:

  ‘This is one of the many aspects as to why I don’t like this sport. This is what I’ve got to be dealing with here. The guy is talking about my mother. I don’t need that. I’ve never said anything about Nigel I couldn’t justify. This, I can’t sleep at night, when people talk to me like this.’

  It was part of the Eubank no one could ever understand. He had traded barbs with Benn and Watson, with some of the insults quite personal. But when the brash American Toney did the same, he took offence. Eubank had said many times that he did not like hype, that it demeaned the sport. But it made him rich beyond his dreams. People wondered why he couldn’t just accept it and move on. After all, very few expected him to go to America and fight Toney, especially after the series of less than threatening opponents he’d faced in the past year.

  At the end of the show, Benn and Eubank were encouraged to shake hands, which they did. Just as had been the case three years earlier, when the pair signed a contract on television, Eubank avoided eye contact with Benn. It was something he always did, especially with ‘the Dark Destroyer’. It wasn’t a slight – Eubank had no interest in seeing the fury in Benn’s eyes, especially given the pain that he’d gone through that night in Birmingham. />
  While the public remained fascinated as to why there seemed to be so much animosity between the pair, such contempt for each other, the boxing press treated it as more or less another fight. Reporters covering the sport would have heard such talk many times before. It predated Muhammad Ali, although ‘the Greatest’ was probably the finest exponent of it. Even so, they struggled to get to the bottom of why, even after a first fight which had forced both men to go to places they hadn’t gone to before, there was still dislike.

  Eubank wasn’t the only one who thought boxing was a nasty game. There is video footage of Benn saying almost exactly that as he prepared for their second fight. Eubank’s opinion stemmed from the way his brothers had been treated during their careers, frequently used as opponents rather than promoted as potential stars, Benn’s from his numerous rows with promoters as well as the experience of missing out on a Commonwealth Games appearance. Both men had got into trouble on the streets. Eubank’s regular brushes with the law in London led to him being sent to the United States by a despairing father. Benn was made to join the army, again after personal intervention from his father. Both men took charge of their own careers, Eubank essentially managing himself, while Benn went to court in order to gain independence from his manager. They would both say that boxing had enabled them to secure their children’s futures. And although Eubank’s dress sense was both unique and bold, it would not be true to say that Benn didn’t enjoy wearing expensive designer gear, although his style then was more in keeping with that of a footballer.

  In the ring they could both hit hard and, while Eubank relied on boxing skill to set his pace, his love of ‘the sweet science’ was at odds with what he would say about the sport. Being a boxer allowed him to be Chris Eubank the showman, the extrovert he had always been. It was an outlet for him in the same way it was for Benn, who could channel his aggression and hatred into combat. If as a teenager Eubank had had a reputation as a master of petty theft, Benn was known throughout those neighbourhoods in Essex for having an ‘intimidating’ personality. The resentment came from how both men conducted themselves in the eyes of the other. Both spoke with a lisp, but while Eubank had taught himself to speak in a certain way, pausing to find the right word, Benn’s conversational skills tended to be more off the cuff. And neither man could understand why the other disliked him. Eubank would often say ‘if you dislike me, dislike me for the right reasons. And as far as I can see, there are no right reasons.’ A self-made man, he may have seen something of himself in Benn but knew the difference was that he had learned to control his emotions and had also given himself an education in the USA. Why, with all the money at his disposal, had Benn not sought to better himself? Benn couldn’t see what was wrong with himself – yes, he liked to party hard, but he also trained hard. Since losing to Watson, he had not taken any shortcuts. And both men gave to good causes. Eubank worked hard for charity and helped the homeless in Brighton. Benn paid special attention to a small child with disabilities and made sure he was always ringside. And he had gone out of his way to help Michael Watson. From his point of view, he was no less a man than Eubank. And yet Benn was called a ‘fraud’ by a man who dressed like a country gent and drove a Peterbilt. It wasn’t just the words that hurt; when the pair met, in or out of the ring, Benn always felt that Eubank looked down on him.