Best of British

I swear that once I've seen the first round of a fight, I can tell you who is going to win. Jammy as I may sound, I was right on both occasions this weekend, so you know, that's basically science right there. Saturday night was everything I wanted it to be; entertaining, dramatic and full of surprises. The winners of both fights (Khan v Judah and Chisora v Fury) were hungry for victory as soon as the bell rang. It was awesome stuff.

Cool, Khan, collected...

  

The second I saw Zab Judah with his top off, I panicked. Not because I swooned or owt, but because he was cut like a mother trucker. He'd clearly taken the prep for this fight very seriously and despite my confidence in the Khan + Roach + Ariza formula, part of me wondered if Zab's experience just might prevail. Then I saw the first round and like I say, I knew differently.

From the off Khan brought the fight to Judah. The bell sounded and a second later Khan was lunging in, letting Judah know that he'd come to play with the big boys. Round 1 - Khan. No contest.

Less BS, more boxing please

Cook gets Burn-ed

This weekend saw Ricky Burns (WBO Super Featherweight Champion) face Nicky Cook at the Liverpool Echo Arena; if you happened to blink in the first round then you'll have been unlucky enough to miss the whole thing. With a clean right hand shot to the body, Burns managed to completely annihilate his evidently injured opponent. 90 seconds later and Cook's corner threw in the towel.

This kind of bollocks really annoys me. Cook has a degenerative spinal conditional, which (whilst obviously awful) in my book renders him unsuitable as an opponent in a title fight. Now that may not be fair, but life, and more specifically boxing, is not fair folks. Of course I admire Cook and his dogged determination, but the reality is that this fight should never have happened.

Thinks aint look too shabby where I'm sat.

In the wake of Haye's defeat, there has been some concern over the future of British boxing. To those casting the damning prognosis, my response is simply this: just you wait for July 23rd. Amir Khan (and his newly reinforced chin) will be kicking off Vegas style against Zab Judah; plus the heavyweight fight of the year (yes, I actually mean that) will be taking place at Wembley between Dereck Chisora and Tyson Fury (his name is Fury!).

It would appear therefore, that the Haye / Klitschko 'panto' was merely a prologue for the main acts of the boxing summer. So, let's have a look at what we can expect from these two epic battles...

All mouth, no Hayemaker...

Anyone who knows anything about boxing will tell you that balance is crucial.  Good connection with the floor and steadiness are the bedrock of proper technique.  So yes, a broken toe is going to bugger things up a bit, if you happen to be boxing in the biggest heavyweight fight of the year.

Going into this bout, I really wanted Haye to win (I thought Klitschko would clinch it though, hence my reluctance to put my moola where my mouth was).  His instinct to blame his injury immediately after losing, shocked me a little and smacked of poor sportsmanship.  Don't get me wrong, I love the guy, in fact I'd quite happily have his babies (I'm a sucker for the guns, what can I say?!).  I just wanted more from someone I respect as much as him.  Haye's since acknowledged that Wladimir was just the better boxer, but he kind of has to say that really, since it's the truth.

Pass me a bucket...

Now, as I write this, Murray is bringing his A game to Nadal and every other sports related tweet I read is about the fight tomorrow.  It is a good weekend for sport.  That said, there's one thing which irks me a little, so I thought I'd share it with you lovely lot.

It's all getting a bit bromanitc for my liking.  McIlroy loves Murray, who loves Haye, who loves him as well etc.  All this patting on the back makes me want to vom.  I think it's great when sports people support one another, but there's a line, and flying back from Hamburg to watch a Wimbledon final, in my book crosses it a bit.

Camaraderie, yes.  Bromance, no.  

There weren't nothin' Calypso about this Cricket

I had the most amazing day on Monday.  I got myself down to the Curzon Cinema, Soho and bought a ticket to a screening of Fire in Babylon - a documentary chronicling the sensational history of West Indian cricket.  Now I'm a sucker for a sports doc, and am fairly easy to inspire, but seeing what this incredible team had to endure really was something else.

'It's a hard, tough, but beautiful sport'

I'm pretty inspired by most professional boxers.  Almost without exception they'll have had to overcome financial and/or personal adversity, demonstrate a level of discipline few of us can begin to understand, and I expect, have a million things tempting them to quit.  But they don't.  They get up at dawn and they work.  Relentlessly.  


One such boxer who epitomised this beautiful, all consuming scenario I've described, was Welsh legend, Howard Winstone.  Aside from possessing a remarkable skill for the sport, his tale is more interesting than most.  In a horrific factory accident, before his professional career had even begun, Winstone lost the tips of three fingers on his right hand.  Now I don't know about you, but losing any of my fingers would definitely stop me doing a fair few things.  Boxing being one of them.  Thankfully, Winstone did not share this mindset.  Undeterred by this seemingly disabling turn of events, Winstone went on to go pro and won 61 of his 67 professional boughts.  Truly epic.


Documenting a story this dramatic seems only fitting, so I'm thrilled that a film (Risen) has been made, capturing the life of this amazing man.  I was lucky enough to have a chat with Stuart Brennan, the actor who's performance as Howard Winstone has just earned him a Welsh Bafta.  Here's what the jammy so and so had to say...