From the social club of the Sale chemical works where he first laced on the gloves, to the swirling glamour of the Las Vegas Strip, Ricky Hatton took his journey to the top of the boxing world in his stride.
With thousands of boisterous supporters trailing in his wake, Hatton called out and took on the greatest fighters of his generation, earning global acclaim for his all-action style and down-to-earth demeanour.
Barring a few deviations for pints of Guinness, Hatton’s rise was as straightforward as it was enthralling – just a kid who fulfilled his dream of conquering the world while resolutely refusing to stray too far from home.
He sold out the then MEN Arena on a series of unforgettable nights that culminated in his breakthrough IBF light-welterweight title win over defending champion Kostya Tszyu, the great Australian who had won all 39 of his previous professional fights but ended the evening retiring on his stool.
His irresistible rise continued in the United States, where he crunched in a trademark body shot that buckled Mexican great Jose Luis Castillo to his knees at the Thomas and Mack Centre in 2007, a blow that reverberated around the boxing world and set up his subsequent super-fight against Floyd Mayweather.
As acclaim cascaded from all quarters, Hatton continued to train in a ramshackle gym above a carpet factory in Hyde, where swelling media ranks would pay pre-fight homage both to Hatton and his trainer Billy Graham, who held court in an office alongside his beloved snakes and other reptiles.
When he walked out to face Mayweather at the MGM Grand for a fight that was to be beamed to tens of millions of people across 187 countries, and would earn him in the region of 10 million US dollars, his ring robe still carried an advert for his father’s carpet shop.
Bruised and beaten after a game attempt to dethrone the greatest fighter of his generation, Hatton returned home and headed straight to the New Inn in Hattersley, the estate where he grew up, for the traditional ‘s*** shirt’ competition, and a well deserved pint or 10 of the black stuff.
He never really changed from kid who made his boxing debut at the age of 11.
Grainy video footage exists of the confident 11-year-old, clad in a white vest and blue shorts, pouring out of his corner, hurling hooks and giving his hapless opponent the mother of all hidings.
Sadly, Hatton’s crash back down to earth was every bit as dramatic.
If there could be few regrets about his crushing loss to Manny Pacquiao back in Las Vegas in May 2009, then his return after three years of restless retirement in 2012 was especially ill-advised.
Taking on Vyacheslav Senchenko, an opponent he would have wasted no time in cutting down in his prime, at his beloved home city arena, Hatton was forced to admit painful defeat in round nine and face a difficult future without lacing on the gloves that had defined his life.
Hatton found some success as a trainer, proved an especially sought-after after-dinner speaker, and beamed with pride at the rise to the professional ranks of his son, Campbell.
Hatton became a grandfather to Campbell’s daughter, Lyla, soon after his 40th birthday.
Hatton talked like he fought, and was painfully honest about his battles with drinking and mental health as he struggled to fill the gap vacated by his sport.
He fought an exhibition bout against Marco Antonio Barrera in 2022 and was scheduled for another in Dubai in December.
But nothing would recreate nor eclipse those glorious nights on both sides of the Atlantic when he reigned supreme – the boy next door who courted global acclaim and whose pockets burned with millions of pounds like an awkward after-thought.
Hatton, who has died at the age of 46, is survived by his children Millie, Fearne and Campbell and granddaughter Lyla.
