Ricky Hatton: The heart and soul behind a boxing wonderland - P30
- Shidonna Raven
- 5 hours ago
- 2 min read
By Tris Dixon
This Article has been curated by UDBN
September 25, 2025
Source: Boxing Scene
Then, typical Ricky, he would acknowledge a recent social media post or say, “You all good?”
Ricky also routinely called me “my mate.”
I know he did that to a lot of people, but it didn’t feel like that when he said it to you. It ring-fenced you as someone special. It made you Ricky Hatton’s mate.
And there were thousands of us.
He was far more concerned with making us all smile than finding his own.
We loved his self-deprecating humour. He was as comfortable making himself the butt of any joke as he was walking to the ring in front of a stadium full of passionate supporters. He loved Only Fools and Horses, Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley, Fawlty Towers, Bernard Manning and, of course, City. He was cheeky, ballsy, and was as fast with his wit as he was his left to the body.
Calling him funny does not do him justice. He had the timing and delivery of a skilled comic.
Around 2010, Ricky was considering suicide regularly. By 2021, he told me he was delighted that he had not because of everything he’d been able to enjoy. Add that to the present day, and Ricky – aged 46 when the unimaginable happened – wouldn’t have met his granddaughter, Lyla, he wouldn’t have seen Oasis reunite, or Manchester City win the treble, or been present for his induction into the International Boxing Hall of Fame, and Campbell’s entire 16-fight pro career.
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