Nigel Benn (16 page)

Barkley was going down from the beginning, anyway. What was important was that I had retained my WBO belt. On television afterwards, I ripped up my BBBC licence, saying, ‘The Board have made it very hard for me, but they still want to get paid by the WBO. If they won’t entertain me, then I won’t entertain them.’

Bob Arum was ecstatic with my win. ‘Nigel’s undoubtedly the most exciting fighter in the world today and the best English boxer ever to come to the States,’ he enthused. I returned triumphantly to London two days later on 20 August, asking to fight Sugar Ray Leonard, Tommy Hearns or Roberto Duran. My present to myself was a £90,000 Bentley. However, back in Britain, Chris Eubank, a man I really had no time for, was itching for a chance at my WBO middleweight title.

Barry Hearn, the promoter, claimed he was offering the highest purse ever to a British fighter and gave me a deadline to accept the Eubank challenge. Mendy was holding out for £1 million but I was keen to have a go at Eubank. Under the contract that was eventually signed, I received only £400,000, although the press reported that I received a million, and there was no option clause providing a re-match. Peter De Freitas told me that this is sometimes a standard clause and would have allowed me to have a second shot at Eubank within 90 days rather than waiting for three years, and that Mendy’s lack of experience as a manager was the reason for not having it.

I thought I would have Eubank. I hated him. I remember thinking at the time that he needed to come down a couple of pegs and go away to America and win the world title and get some respect. My hatred towards him was not hype. I genuinely loathed him.

Eubank, in a rare moment of modesty, declared himself to be ‘… a boxer, slugger, trickster, craftsman, a mover, skillster and a chess player. Critics claim I am over-confident, but ability gives you that feeling. They say I’m arrogant. I say I’m assertive.’ That may be acceptable but when he denigrated his own profession it wasn’t only me who was angry with him. Fighting fans all over Britain were incensed when he called it ‘a dirty business … barbaric, a mug’s game’. Eubank was from south London but had been brought up in the south Bronx, New York, since the age of 14. He said of me, ‘Benn is a fraud, there is nothing genuine about the man … he is not capable of teaching me any lessons …’

Boxing has been very good to me and I don’t like it when people knock the sport and say it’s a mug’s game and barbaric. When I first heard him say that, I thought the only mug was him, because boxing had made him a very wealthy man and given him a lifestyle he’d never have had. Before he began boxing, he was just like me, a kid from the street. I would never knock boxing. We don’t need that kind of talk in the game. Boxing has already got a bad name after the Michael Watson incident and the last thing we need is more people putting it down.

You’ve got to stand very firm in boxing because it can be a very crooked game. You have to let people know that you are not going to be mugged and you won’t let anybody take liberties with you, which happens in boxing all the time.

Towards the end of September 1990, I accepted the offer to fight Eubank and made peace with the British Boxing Board of Control. The Eubank fight was to be staged at the National Exhibition Centre in Birmingham on 18 November. A lot of pre-fight ‘hate’ between us was generated in the press but in my case, as I have already said, it was 100 per cent genuine. The
Times
billed me as ‘… a wild animal in the ring, and we had rarely, if ever, seen anything like that in this country. He was the epitome of an all-out warrior bringing a rage and fury into the ring that one might only encounter in the United States. Only Mike Tyson and Marvin Hagler have exuded such menace.’

Eubank was no newcomer to insults. He may have seen the world through a rose-tinted monocle when he dressed in his ridiculous clothes, but the garbage that flowed from his mouth was closer to his real background.

Never a favourite of the BBBC, Mendy was making further trouble as the fight neared. He insisted on being in my corner, despite being banned by the board, and threatened to sue over the issue in the High Court. A lot of my money seemed to be spent on court battles. Mendy was later fined £2,000 for appearing in my corner before the fight. Earlier, he announced, ‘This is a dangerous sport made more dangerous by the
board, who are a bunch of buffoons and don’t have a clue. They had said that under no circumstances will I be able to go into Benn’s corner. The only way I won’t be there is if I’m six feet under! It’s becoming more than boxing now — it’s a war between me and the board.’

The NEC was packed and our fight attracted the biggest celebrity turnout for a sporting event the country had seen. More than 150 stars turned up.

Losing my title to Eubank was gutting, but looking back he beat me fair and square, and I boxed well, too. I was practically blind in one eye for most of the match, and I pushed Eubank like he’d never been pushed before. I fought till I had nothing left to offer, and the ref called it a day after about three minutes of the ninth of twelve scheduled rounds.

Eubank became more respectful towards me after the fight but I was gutted. Chris had damaged my eye and broken my heart. I wanted a re-match as soon as possible. Eubank said of me, ‘He hit me in the guts, the mouth and on my head — man, it hurt. I didn’t know people had that kind of power. I had to keep asking the Lord to help me out on this one. That man hits mega, mega hard. He is one in a million — I didn’t know people could have that kind of power. He was strong enough to kill me. His power is savage and he extended me the way nobody else in life has done. For that, I love the man.’

The referee said of our fight, ‘I’ve refereed 79 world title fights and this was in the very top
category. It was too bad one had to lose. They are both champions in my book, but I was doing my duty to stop it, so Benn can come back and win that title again. Benn was really gallant, but just could not see out of the left eye.’

I had two goals now. To beat Eubank and win another world title. But first I had to pick myself up again and shake off the disappointment of this fight. And so I turned to my family.

A
fter Eubank beat me, I thought there was no better way of shooting myself than getting married. Sharron was there for me when I went down to Watson and she was there for me again after Eubank. In spite of our somewhat unpredictable relationship, there was deep love. I asked her to marry me on my birthday, giving us two months to prepare.

We’d already been engaged for a couple of years without naming the day. I might have been in a zimmer frame by the time I’d got around to marriage had I not been encouraged to set a date. The engagement itself had caught her totally
off-guard
. I had asked her to become my fiancée at a New Year’s Eve party and slipped a huge diamond ring on her finger. Then I got down on one knee in front of my parents and proposed to her. She was so shocked that she spilled her drink but said yes. I would have laid her out if it had been otherwise! Not really, but then it was the third happiest day of my life. The other two were when our children were born.

For the first time in years, we had some space to ourselves. My next fight was some months away and I planned a romantic wedding in Las Vegas.

First stop on our journey into wedlock was Bell Harbor, Miami, to kit us out with some wicked outfits. I bought most of Sharron’s clothes. She and I have always had similar tastes in fashion. Her wedding dress was unbelievable. She looked like a princess. I had on a black number and she wore white. Her outfit cost about
£
6,000. It was really expensive and I feel like taking it back because she hasn’t worn it. I fell in love with the outfit and it made me love her even more. It was like an evening dress and she looked stunning in it. I had wanted a wedding in England but that would have cost £100,000 and involved too many people. We preferred a small ceremony.

Sharron’s brother Scottie, her sister Joanne, Ambrose Mendy, Bob Arum (my USA promoter) and his girlfriend and other American friends came to the wedding. I was really nervous and the night before our nuptials we slept apart. We had chosen the Little White Chapel where Joan Collins had got married and, afterwards, a reception at Caesar’s Palace Hotel where they had specially opened the roof for us. The wedding party stayed at the Alexis Hotel. Sharron and I had a beautiful suite with a Jacuzzi the size of a swimming pool, a massive double bed and huge bouquets of flowers in every room.

When she walked into the chapel to marry me, she looked stunning. I tried not to look at her but she kept her eyes on me. I nervously rubbed my
hands together. The ceremony was beautiful. We exchanged vows and kissed tenderly.

Ambrose made a speech at the party at Caesar’s Palace but it was hard to follow. I thanked everybody for coming and then it was time to cut the cake and drink champagne. Sharron drank a little too much — in fact, so much that she became steadily more drunk and any romantic notions I entertained for our bridal suite went out of the window. She was out like a light. I sat up watching telly. I asked if a kiss might be out of question but felt there was a possibility she might throw up. I wished I’d brought a blow-up rubber doll; I might have got a better response from that than my bride. What a way to spend your wedding night!

The next day, the first of our married life, we started to argue and continued doing so all the way back to England. What a disappointment. I had placed romantic messages behind the bed and wanted our time there to be really special. I fantasised that it would be the happiest day of our lives. As we were leaving for the airport, we argued again and Sharron walked off, leaving the wedding cake and her bags. I had to go back and get them. Then we argued for the first four hours on the plane back home and, for a further eight hours, refused to speak to one another. So this was wedded bliss!

On our return, I had to get down to training for my fight against Robbie Sims at Bethnal Green on 3 April. If I lost this one I’d be washed up for good. Sims had never been stopped in an 11-year career and was the half-brother of my idol, Marvin Hagler.

Around this time, I was also becoming disillusioned with Mendy. We began drifting apart. And I started questioning the fact that I was doing all the hard work — fighting and training — and Ambrose was the one with the big house and swimming pool. This wasn’t quite right as far as I was concerned. Nevertheless, he was still making arrangements for the Sims fight which was originally planned for the NEC until death threats were made against me.

They were telephoned to Mendy’s offices and referred to my military connections with the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers, who advised me to take them seriously, particularly as I had been in Northern Ireland. I had always been conscious of this type of thing and made sure I was even more careful regarding my movements and cars. At the end of the day, however, I had to accept that the IRA, if indeed it was them making the threats and not Ambrose trying to sell more tickets, would always get you if that’s what they really wanted. I had no personal quarrel with them.

Before fighting Sims, I had a ridiculous offer to fight Chris Eubank for
£
250,000 and rejected it out of hand. Eubank then rejected my demands for the purse to be split down the middle and said I had priced myself out of the market and that his next objective was a fight with Michael Watson.

On my return from training for six weeks in Miami, I felt a little nervous but was, nevertheless, confident that I would beat Sims. I would be more controlled in my next fight. Although Marvin was
my hero, Sims bad-mouthed me before the fight. He called me a monster, a ‘junkyard dog’ who didn’t care about anyone else and said of himself, ‘I’ve never been stopped and I’ve never been dropped on the floor and I’ve not come all this way to take a fall for the first time.’ I’d heard it all before.

Robbie Sims was a very good fighter. He’d been around a long time and was a good warhorse. He was a southpaw and I was wary of fighting him. At the time I still had Vic Andreeti as my trainer but things were starting to change. Peter De Freitas was now working with me and it was vital I regained a strong position. My army discipline helped me focus my energies. After the Eubank fight, this was going straight back into the deep end. It would have been the end of my career if I’d lost. You can only drop so much. Sims was not a journeyman like you get in England.

I came in strong from the start, jabbing him in the face, giving it to him in the body. He was underweight so I knew he had prepared for the fight but I had reserves of power to call on if needed. Sims was stronger than anyone I’ve ever met, including Watson and Eubank, and I had to watch out for his body punching.

At first, I was a little worried that I’d chosen to fight him but then that helped my mental resolve to beat him. In the past, I’ve tended to be
overconfident
as well as immature against certain opponents.

My left hook exploded on his chin in the seventh round and knocked him spark out. The ref
stopped the fight a couple of minutes into the round and I thought,
Yes,
I’m back!

After the fight, Marvin Hagler (meeting him was like meeting God) came to me and praised my style. ‘You gave him a fucking good hiding. You was good. You was good,’ he told me. Then he pulled Sims aside and told him, ‘Handle defeat gracefully. Respect the guy, he beat you and that’s it.’

The following week, Mendy was due to appear in court on the
£
65,000 fraud conspiracy for which he was sent to prison. I gave character evidence on his behalf and later visited him inside and paid about
£
15,000 for his court case. I had also lent him my Porsche which he smashed up. It cost me £6,000 in repairs. I then paid further lawyers’ fees but no money was paid back. I would have stuck by Ambrose 100 per cent but, after a while, I thought this was no longer a wise thing to do. I’d lost a lot of money and I had lent him another
£
2,000 in prison. It was time to say ta-ta. But it was difficult severing a loyalty that had been so absolute for several years.

My next fight, against Kid Milo (his real name is Winston Walters), who was then reigning WBC International super-middle king, at Brentwood on 3 July, proved to be another turning point for me. Following the fight, Vic Andreeti and I called it a day and, after our amicable parting, I trained with Graham Moughton at Barry Hearn’s Matchroom gym in Romford. Milo had lost to Eubank a year earlier, but only after the eighth round, with a stoppage on cuts. I dispatched him in the fourth. I
hit him so hard he could hardly get back on his feet.

I was back on course to challenge Eubank until the tragic fight on Saturday, 21 September 1991 when Watson suffered brain damage in his title contest against Eubank. Watson was winning the fight until the eleventh round, when Eubank put him on the ropes with a crushing uppercut. Nobody was to know at the time how seriously he’d been injured. I was ringside and thought it was right that the referee, Roy Francis, allowed the fight to go on. Michael would have beaten Eubank. I visited him in hospital a few days later and tried to talk to him and comfort his girlfriend. It hurt to see him in that condition.

In October, I announced that Mendy and I no longer had anything to do with each other and that I would not be taking part in over-the-top activities which had been the Ambrose trademark of the past. It had been good while it lasted and at least it was another learning experience.

For my next fight, against Lenzie Morgan at Brentwood on 26 October, I moved up in weight from middle to super-middle. Eubank had also moved up and I still had him very much in my sights. I knew that Morgan would be a tough cookie and that it wasn’t going to be an easy fight because I’d seen him in the States. But I knew I had the power and was determined to beat him. It was a good test for me. It put me under a lot of pressure which I liked and I was pleased with the result, winning on points against a difficult opponent.

A few days after the fight, I spent a little time
with Geoffrey Dickens, the Tory MP, filming a campaigning pop video for the anti-child abuse rap record ‘It’s OK to say No’. It warned youngsters to stay away from strangers and featured Mr Dickens and me chanting the lyrics. I was to become involved in music in a much bigger way later on, but for the moment I had to go straight back into my training routine for the next bout, against Hector Lescano at the G-Mex Centre in Manchester on 7 December.

Hector’s nickname was ‘The Dog’ but, as one journalist said, ‘He didn’t come to lie down …’ He hit the floor in the third, though.

After the fight, I was challenged by his manager Mickey Duff to a £150,000 showdown with Henry Wharton who offered to share the purse on a 50-50 split. Duff said his man was the most exciting puncher in Britain. ‘We will put big money to Benn if he thinks he can handle Wharton’s fierce punching.’

I waited a couple of years before proving them wrong. In the meantime, Barry Hearn began talks for a re-match with Eubank, saying we could gross £2 million. First, however, he wanted me to fight Canadian Dan Sherry at Muswell Hill on 19 February.

Sherry, a Canadian, came close to beating Eubank in Brighton in 1991 but lost the WBO challenge after he was head-butted in the tenth round. Hearn said, ‘Sherry has given me aggro since he lost to Chris Eubank and I want Nigel to cork him once and for all.’

Both Sherry and his cornerman Pepe Correa
tried to give me aggro at a pre-fight press conference. Both said I would end the fight lying on the canvas. ‘We’re here to whip you.’ When they began haranguing me, I walked off. I wasn’t going to get involved with the loser. The ref stopped the fight in the third.

Chris Eubank, with whom I had been itching for a re-match, kept avoiding my challenge. The WBO recognised me as the number one contender and I felt that Eubank was just a piece of chicken shit to put off the fight. How could he call himself a world champion and be scared to come in the ring with me? I had never turned down other fighters. I was quite prepared to face Iran Barkley again even though he swore he’d kill me in revenge for my earlier victory. But Eubank wouldn’t face me. When he was warned that he would forfeit his title if he did not go through with the mandatory defence, all Eubank would say was that people couldn’t tell him what to do. ‘The only thing I have to do is stay black and die,’ was his smart-ass comment. He called himself ‘Simply the Best’, but I reckoned he was ‘Simply a Pest’.

Dad says my fight with Sugarboy Malinga was one of my worst performances so I can’t argue about that. He told me afterwards, ‘You won it and just thank your lucky stars you had the decision. If it had been my decision, the best you would have got was a draw. But it was one of your off-days and any fighter can have an off-day so don’t worry about it.’ Point taken, Dad! But the judges gave it to me on points, anyway.

Although negotiations seemed to have reached
a stalemate with Eubank, he suddenly relented and agreed to a re-match in September. In the meantime, my challenge to Italian Mauro Galvano had finally paid dividends and he agreed to defend his WBC super-middleweight title against me in Marino, Italy on 3 October. As a result, the WBO were forced to drop me from their ratings. My long-term plan was postponed. I would meet Eubank the following year, 1993. With the Mauro fight scheduled, my chance had finally come for a shot at a second world title championship.