Scotland Boxing Scene: Small Halls and Big Hearts

By Donald “Braveheart” Stewart (At Ringside)

This is no column about the massive cards on Vegas show bills. It is not about the guys who shall go on to Madison Square Garden, this is about the upturned bread and spread about butter of the boxing world that makes our sport so great. In here there are some superstars but not that they know it nor will you either but they are all stars of the evening; all worthy of the support they receive.

Recently I was making my own debut as a boxing correspondent at a boxing show over here in Scotland. I have written about the sport for years but had not been ringside, pen in hand, phone in other hand tweeting and Facebooking about the event before my very eyes. I had been given a task, provided with a mission and asked to go seek and see.

My mission? Report back on the 8 fights that were part of the Lock, Stock promotions bill at the Bellahouston Leisure Center in the southside of Glasgow – a place well known to the boxing world as a place of hardened but not yet bitter professionals. I had covered sporting events before but this was my first in the ring, outside of it if you get me?

Spookily the first thing I noticed on the way to the venue was the ambulance that followed me into the car park. This was the same night that Nick Blackwell ended up in a coma so how prophetic did that feel?

Having been asked to be part of the reporting team for the evening by the promoter was good and as he was busy, organizing the evening, I was left to form my own opinions and make my own judgments. VIP passes got you into the free bar and as alcohol has lost its attraction for me, being in the hall watching the action was my dream come true for the night.

I was ably aided by the presence of two young guns – Chris Glover and his apprentice Rory – who conjured up a table and chairs for us before the Sorcerer and Apprentice gave me the run down on British boxing. Soon we had a number of other voices behind us as the main event began. Their chiding and encouragement washed over me in equal measure as they weighed up the merits of each boxer and spoke to everyone in particular about their own special judgments of each.

First in the ring was Jon Slowey 19-3, who gave us the shock of the evening when he was outpointed by Jamie McGuire 7-1, over 4 rounds. Slowey was last out in Italy where he fought unsuccessfully for a European title. To return and be beaten by a guy with 7 pro fights until that night was harsh for him but difficult to argue with the decision, Slowey had a nightmare. Busy enough in the early rounds this was a fight that the vastly more experienced Slowey should have put to bed early on. It was interesting to see a young fighter who has won a WBC international silver belt as well as a Scottish Championship falter.

It was then a privilege to see one of the great warriors of the ring in William Warburton 18-94-7 in against the debutant of the night, Craig McIntyre 1-0. McIntyre hardly stepped out of first gear as he gave Warburton several tastes of his power though Warburton was able to dodge, weave and provide enough of a battle to earn his wage whilst keep it entertaining. This was supposed to be a learning fight which meant that McIntyre preserved his pretty boy looks; Warburton fed his family for another week.

Kieran Smith 4-0, 2 KO’s then entered to continue to obliterate his disappointment in not winning a medal in front of his home crowd at the 2014 Commonwealth games by progressing in the pro ranks. Casey Blair 3-7 of Belfast was the tricky guy in the other corner and gave Smith a lot to think about before he finally heard the final bell and all was over. Smith took the win and did so with some ease, looking all the minute like someone who could be going places. I, along with my two Harry Potter style pals took notice and got his name in the book for future reference, them for their own publication, me for Ringside Report – I know how much Brad likes to be on the inside track!

The night paused for breath as the entertainment, as if the boxing was not enough, came thanks to the Wallace Clan. They have become big on the back of the bonus of Braveheart and the resurgence of Scottish nationalism. They are made up of a lot of hairy people – mainly men – who drum and play the pipes. Rousing and stirring it is good enough to get your heart pumping at the side of a boxing ring and people were up dancing along with the screech of the pipes before they returned to their seats for the screech of the action.

Having seen the veteran, the upset and the ladder of redemption we were ready for razzmatazz. That came in the shape of Jason Easton’s, 5-0 3 KO’s, shorts which sparkled almost as much as he tried to in his fight with James Gorman 8-17-1, 3 KO’s, who also hailed from Belfast, alongside Casey Blair in the fight before. Easton gave Gorman plenty to eat as he peppered at will but Gorman was game and fought well to hang on when lesser fighters would have been happy to take an easy way out of there. Ultimately, sparkly shorts or not, Jason Easton got his next win.

This being a new company, Lock Stock have found a fascinating tie up – with Erik Morales. One of the promoters is Willie Limond who went to Mexico to fight Erik Morales. Losing the WBC silver belt to the Mexican was sore but it has led to a friendship that is now bearing fruit as Morales and Limond are swapping training facilities and opportunities for their fighters. The first evidence of this partnership came next as “The Russian” Konstantine Alexandrov 5-14, came into the ring, all the way from Bulgaria to face the Mexican Paul Valenzuela, JR., 10-2, 6 KO’s. It was here that we had to contend with some translation difficulties as we had an Irish Master of Ceremonies announce a fight between a Russian and a Mexican whilst a host of Geordies behind me bemoaned the Russians’ lack of willingness to fight. The Geordies were here to scream on one of their own, Lewis Ritson but warmed up with frequent outbursts as the Russian just seemed interested only in getting to the end of the fight. The international flavour of it all was underlined when it stopped at 6 rounds and the Mexican was expecting 8. With the Russian still standing the Mexican won tough was probably looking to stop it in the late rounds – pity he was denied them.

The championship action then began with two fights for two belts. The first between Newcastle’s Lewis Ritson 9-0 and Bence Molnar 15-7, 8 KO’s was for the WBC Youth Silver lightweight belt. Ritson was slick and sure of his combinations, keeping Molnar at bay. The crowd were partisan and well up for it all as Ritson supporters gave a massive amount of encouragement. There were times, particularly in the 4th round that Ritson looked like he was going to get the stoppage but the gutsiness and bravery of Molnar kept coming through and he kept it going to the final bell. With the fight over, Ritson’s hand was raised and having had a decent night’s work he purred about the next stage of his career back home in Newcastle being for bigger prizes and bigger belts – another fighter of the future.

Finally, we ended with the British Masters title fight between Ally Black 5-3, 2 KO’s and Craig Kelly 9-8-1, 2 KO’s. This was a true old fashioned and wonderful scrap. There was no quarter given nor asked as they met in the middle and clashed. It was not long before blood was pouring out of cuts both had received and I got blood on my notepad, there was blood in the ring and a baying crowd loving every minute of it. This was teetering on a knife edge as both fighters seemed to have abandoned aby idea of having a game plan – apart from just beating the other guy up. Of all the fights on the night this was the one you wanted to go the distance so to see it stopped in the 7th due to the cut above Black’s eye being too open was a pity. Kelly got the belt and the win.

By the end of the night we were getting our heads round the news of Nick Blackwell’s coma. It was a sobering thought as I walked back to my car, past the ambulance I had followed on the way in. I stood for a moment or two and thought what it all meant and whether I had witnessed raw sport or Neanderthal brutality dressed up as a sport. Was there skill on display or should I just readily admit that it is just things with a licence to spill? This type of event happens in the UK every weekend as new boxers, old boxers, contenders, journeymen and no hopers mix and mingle with the champs, the chumps and the never were who hoped they would be one day. People came from miles around and stayed to see; I know that I did.

If I saw big hearts on display then I stood in the car park of this small hall amongst the lifeblood; the spectator, the fan, the people who paid their money. Without opportunities like this the Warburton’s don’t feed their kids, the McIntyre’s don’t get a start and the Russians who live in Bulgaria don’t get to fight the Mexicans. It took me seconds to absorb the news that Nick Blackwell was so badly injured before smiling that I had also seen the reason why such a brave man kept getting off the stool to take the center of the ring and try, try and try again; because they can and they want to and they need to. I got into the car, drove off and started planning my own return journey.

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