Ringside Report Remembers Boxer Scott Westgarth (1986 – 2018)

By Donald “Braveheart” Stewart

There is a photograph of Scott Westgarth, 7-2-1, 2 KOs, his hands held high on either side of a slightly crooked smile. It says a lot. He had just won a fight and his future was beginning to clear. But it didn’t.

Born in Hexham, Northumberland, in the north of England it is the date of his death and the place where it happened that has become the most significant thing about Scott. But it shouldn’t be.
Scott Westgarth died on the 25th of February 2018, in Sheffield as a result of injuries sustained in winning a contest in the ring against Dec Spelman. He was a light heavyweight, filled with the joy of winning the biggest boxing contest of his career. Going into the fight he was the underdog, the seriously under fancied fighter. After the fight he stood and gave an interview and then walked to his dressing room. Thereafter tragedy unfolded.

I was brought to this by reading his trainer, Glyn Rhodes’ biography earlier this year and by the fact that very recently John Westgarth, Scott’s dad passed away. John, himself, was a heavyweight boxer from the 1980’s who fought for the European title in his time. That fight, a late call up, did not go his way – a split decision loss he felt was unfair – and led the victor to a world title shot against Michal Spinks. John also shared a competitive ring with Herbie Hide and Donovan “Razor” Ruddock, and though he ended with a record with more losses than wins, his history is the backdrop to his son’s.
After boxing John turned his hand to rugby and supporting his family – including his son, Scott.

For neither father nor son was there riches. For neither son nor father was there glamour. Hard, honest graft made their careers, and they share the same types of records – fought hard, fought on and fought fairly. For boxing, careers like these are vital. They fill up undercards, they give local young lads and lasses something to aim for in a gym and they sustain the sport through their training at local gyms. They make it busy and perform on small hall nights under lights so that those starting out have something to aim for, they can dream of their names being projected in long drawn out drawls that announce them within their own communities.

Scott fought only 10 times as a professional, making his debut in Sheffield, his hometown, against Craig Nicolson and winning on points on the 21st of September 2013.

His final fight was on the 24th of February 2018, in Doncaster. He beat Spelman on points in an English title eliminator. In terms of his career, it was the finest hour. He had been knocked down in the final round but raised himself up to take the fight on points. After completing an interview, Scott walked to the dressing rooms. He deteriorated in the room, had a doctor summon an ambulance and on the way to hospital deteriorated further until he died, the following day, from complications arising from a blood clot on his brain. At the inquest and through tears, trainer Rhodes said, “He’d just won the biggest fight of his career. He didn’t want to be going out on a stretcher. He wanted to bask in the glory. He wanted to walk out. To be aware of that, he must have been sound of mind. He was alright.”

But, as I write this, there are several thousand fighters with a similar story to tell in the UK, the US and further afield who shall tonight go into a ring to fight. They shall do so with the worry of their family ringside, the skill they have developed in the gym on display and a wish, a want, a need, a desire to win. They may well have come from one of the worst housing estates or cold water flats in the world, they many have escaped war, famine, hunger and abuse. They may see this as the only way to get out of the gutter which is the bed made for them. And they shall whisper the names of heroes and heroines on their way in. They will want to be the Ali of the 70s and not the Ali thereafter. But they do so to entertain us: the general public, the boxing purists, the boxing tourists, the occasional fan and the persistent watcher. Scott Westgarth was a fighter unlikely to be a super star, but he was his own star. Like many others, he came to clash and weave, to bob and balance their diet so they can fight, win and progress in the hardest fight of all. And in the end, the only thing that really matters is that they get home safely. For Scott, for John, his father and for the sake of the sport, that has to be the paramount result. We know that Scott will be replaced by X or Y, or Z. Death is inevitable for someone along the way. There is little point in arguing that it is not – we need to work out to what level that risk is worth it and work diligently to create a sport which is clean, free of abusers, dealers, cheats and criminals. And that is why watching the antics of people like Ryan Garcia and Connor Benn can be hard. It is also why the authorities need to sort things out swiftly – literally, lives depend upon it.

For many, Scott’s legacy was he beat Dec Spelman. The record nooks may well reflect that, but for me, the legacy needs to be wider, better and further reaching – and people need to be reminded regularly of their responsibilities.

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