Boxing’s brutal dark side should never be underestimated
It’s a hard sport to watch and an even harder sport to stop watching.
“No boxing, no life”, as multi-weight world champion Canelo Alvarez often mutters. It’s a modern-day adage that many fans of the noble art can instantly relate to. I’ve been interested in the sport since Eubank-Watson in 1991.
The Monday after their first fight, we rumbled around the playground, four jumpers for four corners of the ring; shirt sleeves rolled up to replicate the two combatants. One person played Eubank, the other Watson.
In the real ring, it ended in a majority decision win to the mercurial Brighton man. Three months later, almost to the day, their rematch would end in tragedy as Watson suffered life-changing injuries.
Many of the playground pugilists had forgotten about boxing by then and moved back to football. I retained a fleeting interest that swiftly turned into fascination around the Tyson-Bruno era, and later an obsession when Lennox Lewis was at his peak.
The Watson tragedy, unfortunately, is the kind of incident many recite whenever the subject of boxing is brought up. Ignoring the element of prizefighting nobility or any talk of the sweet science, they view boxing as an opportunity for two primal beings to try and take each other’s heads off.
Almost 20 years ago, I moved from Wolverhampton to Belfast, a city that reveres its fighting men. Statues, books, exhibitions, and a spider’s web of boxing clubs weave around the entire city. It has it all.
As Steve Bunce often remarks whenever he visits Belfast, everyone he speaks to either boxed themselves, has a family member who boxed or knows somebody who donned the gloves in some capacity.
While the knockouts and displays of astounding bravery are satisfying payoffs, any ardent fight fan can appreciate the artistry, intelligence and guile that is often required.
The barbaric nature of punching someone repeatedly in the head and body can turn off fans, old and new. It’s not unheard of for people immersed in the boxing game to witness something so dark and despairing that they question their love for the sport, walking away entirely, never to return.
You can support Steve’s Boxing updates by:
❤️ Liking the post (a free shot that makes you feel good).
🗣️ Leave a comment to get things off your chest. Agree with Steve? Think he’s talking nonsense as usual? Let me know.
🥊 Subscribe! It’s all free. Get everything I write or say directly to your inbox.
☕ Buy me a coffee. If you’ve got a spare couple of shillings 👇👇👇
Over many years following and covering boxing, I’ve had a few fleeting brushes with the darker side. When unbeaten featherweight Ludumo Lamati slumped into his corner following a 12th-round stoppage to Nick Ball in 2023, we watched for several minutes as medical staff dealt with the ailing South African.
The longer it took, the more concerned the crowd became. Lamati was eventually stretchered to a nearby hospital, where it was revealed that he had suffered a stroke in the ring and was placed into a medically induced coma. Now back home in Johannesburg, Lamati, who had arrived in Northern Ireland undefeated, will of course never box again.
In 2016, on Channel 5, Nick Blackwell’s resilience was displayed to millions of viewers following a 10-round pounding from Chris Eubank Jr. Blackwell had waited patiently for his chance to get stuck into Eubank Jr, but the fight became increasingly one-sided. When the doctor pulled him out, a smattering of boos could be heard. Moments later, he was fighting for his life.
Chris Eubank Sr later claimed that he could perceive Blackwell’s body was failing in battle. He implored his son to switch downstairs to end it as an act of compassion rather than a tactical move to drain any last droplets of Nick’s energy.
True or not, Eubank Sr could be forgiven for his spidey senses tingling when it comes to such events, given his part in the aforementioned Michael Watson incident 25 years earlier.
During my podcasting days, one Sunday evening, I was presented with a guest who had been involved in a ring fatality. Declan Spelman came on to talk to the panel about the night his opponent, Scott Westgarth, died following their 2018 English title eliminator.
It was a harrowing discussion, difficult to navigate through. Spelman (below) spoke with dignity when describing the evening’s events to a captivated audience.
On February 8, 2025, my own list of borderline brushes turned into something vivid and unforgettable. The single horror you hope never to witness happened in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, playing out in real time.
I pushed my ringside seat in as tight to the table as I could manage, allowing medics to rush John Cooney’s stretcher out to the waiting ambulance. The Galway boxer’s clash with Welshman Nathan Howells had become increasingly one-sided before he was stopped in round nine.
MC Craig Stephen did his professional best to calm the tension and play the incident off as a medical precaution. The signs, however, pointed to something different for ardent, longtime observers of the sport. Cooney slipped into a coma and passed away days later from a severe brain injury.
“No boxing, no life” sounds like a cool mantra until boxing causes a loss of life. Then, we have to sit back and take stock of what we are actually watching.
Sitting at home or beside the ring, cheering them on through the good times, perhaps slightly complicit during the bad. It’s a hard sport to watch at times and an even harder sport to stop watching.
Image Credits: The Mirror, Sky Sports.
About Steve…
Current existence: Boxing writer, eLearning educator.
Previous lives: Online editor at Boxing News Magazine. Author (8 books), podcaster (500+ eps), scriptwriter for Motivedia channel, newspaper journalist, copywriter & educator.
For work enquiries, contact: stevenwellings1982@gmail.com
Thanks for this thought-provoking piece, Steve. I have the same complex mixture of emotions watching MMA. As an admirer of the sport and casual practitioner myself I love observing the skill and courage executed in the ring, but seeing people getting hurt - sometimes pretty seriously - is kind of upsetting, to put it simply.
Steve, great post. I've had a sort of love/hate relationship with boxing for years. While I admire the athleticism, skill, and dedication required to be a good boxer, watching someone get knocked senseless makes me wonder about my own morals. Still, it's a tough sport to stop watching. You perfectly spell out several competing emotions some fans deal with.