‘The saint of Manchester’ – Ricky Hatton and his city, a love story

It is the Thursday after Ricky Hatton died and the Cheshire Cheese pub in Gee Cross, one of the boxer’s locals, is serving up drinks as regulars chat away. Normal life goes on, just as Hatton would have wanted it to.

Just a short walk around the corner is The Heartbreak – which is not a pub but the gated property fit for a champion that was Hatton’s home. It was named by Hatton after Elvis Presley’s chart-topping Heartbreak Hotel.

Fans and friends come and go, leaving flowers and tributes. There are Manchester City shirts, boxing gloves, the odd can of Guinness, Only Fools and Horses memorabilia – Hatton was a huge fan and owned a three-wheeled van – and more tokens of appreciation.

Two mourners who have stopped off to leave a tribute are Trev and his wife, Sue. Trev grew up in Gloucester but moved to this part of the world when Hatton was in his pomp.

He would regularly see ‘The Hitman’ in some of the local pubs after his retirement and recalls how Hatton helped to raise funds for a charity which was supporting Sue’s late son, who had cancer.

“I wasn’t from here, but he showed me what it takes to be a Mancunian,” said Trev.

“He should be known as the saint of Manchester.”

Hatton was a hero far beyond where he grew up, even if the fact he stayed so true to his roots is why so many loved him.

Brought up on a Hattersley council estate, he was still based nearby until his tragically early death at just 46.

The two-weight world champion, who many believe is Manchester’s greatest ever fighter, was someone who put his city’s name up in lights in the boxing world.

Hatton was a figurehead for Hyde and Tameside who became a national and international superstar.

These are among the many reasons thousands will line the streets of the city centre and Greater Manchester on Friday to honour the life and say goodbye to Richard John Hatton – an icon of the north-west.

The late Paul Dunne was coaching at Sale West ABC in the 1990s when he walked into the Lively Lobster pub in Ashton upon Mersey one Friday night and proudly declared a future world champion had walked into his boxing club.

Hatton had just recently moved to Sale West, but he had begun boxing closer to home in Hyde, at the Louvolite Gym – now Hyde and District ABC – under the guidance of the late Ted Peake.

Boxing reporter Steve Lillis remembers evenings at The Junction Inn in Ashton-under-Lyne. A Hatton relative was running the pub so his name was regularly mentioned as he progressed in the amateur code.

Lillis, along with now BBC 5 Live boxing voice Steve Bunce, would travel to Birmingham to watch Hatton win the ABA title in 1997.

“It was like a spaceship taking off into orbit,” said Lillis, who covered almost every one of Hatton’s professional fights.

“From that moment on, we knew we were on an incredible journey.”

But Hatton wasn’t always a big draw.

“He had his first fight in Widnes and he sold three or four tickets,” said Frank Warren, the promoter who guided Hatton all the way from turning professional to the IBF light-welterweight title.

Paul Speak was Hatton’s long-time manager, close friend and dealt with his media engagements.

“When Rick was boxing, there was no social media so you couldn’t build yourself that way,” said Speak.

“It was word of mouth. Ricky and his dad, Ray, would leave tickets in the local pubs and the landlord would sell them, he’d get a free one for doing the work.”

Hatton would share cards with other well-known Manchester boxers like Anthony Farnell and Michael Gomez and his profile grew.

Rock band Oasis, who Hatton adored and would later befriend, were building on Manchester’s reputation as a capital of the music world.

Manchester United were dominating English football.

Hatton was playing his part in the ring and also giving his Manchester City-supporting backers something to cheer while their team struggled in the Red Devils’ shadow.

In the city centre, a new venue opened and staged a Torvill and Dean performance on its opening night.

“It was fortunate that they built the Manchester Arena when they did,” said Speak of the indoor venue that welcomed its first customers in 1995.

This is where Hatton had 15 of his professional fights. “It would become his fortress,” Speak said.

By the time Hatton fought Kostya Tszyu in 2005, he was selling out the arena.

Hatton stopped the man who was regarded as the world’s best light-welterweight to win the IBF title.

Danny Jackson, a close friend to Hatton and Manchester City’s matchday announcer, delivered an emotional speech in memory of his pal at the recent City-United derby.

He gives Hatton credit for putting his beloved football club – now giants of the world game – in the spotlight.

“You look at Rick’s time as a boxer, there wasn’t a lot to like about City then,” Jackson said.

“Rick was a bit of a shining light in that period. He got City’s brand out there to millions of people.”

Retired world champion Anthony Crolla described the Tszyu fight as “one of the greatest nights Manchester has ever had in any sport”.

The next day, Hatton set up camp at the New Inn in Hyde for what had become a regular celebration – nicknamed the not-so-nice shirt nights.

“He didn’t want to swan off to celebrity hotspots; he wanted to be around his mates and having a laugh,” said Jackson.

Paul Smith, the Liverpool world title challenger who trained alongside Hatton, remembers one fancy dress party when Hatton dressed as ‘Ginger Spice’ Geri Halliwell.

Those kind of images would get out and help to keep Hatton in the hearts of those from Manchester, because they could see he was one of them.

That never changed. This summer, Hatton attended a friend’s stag do in Portugal.

They set him up by giving him dissolvable swimming shorts to wear in the pool.

“There were a group of lads there from Leeds by the pool idolising him and they were saying ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this to a superstar’,” said Jackson.

You could say that Hatton ‘united’ Manchester. But, being a boyhood Blue, Hatton might have preferred to say that he brought the city together.

Even with his close connection to City, United fans avidly followed him. They tended to all cheer and sing when he came out to Blue Moon in the colours of City, too.

“For one night only,” said Speak. “It was a bit like the First World War when they played football on Christmas Day.”

The setting aside of football rivalries showed what Hatton meant to the whole of Manchester.

All the same, Hatton never shrank from his own allegiance.

“It was a special relationship between the club and a special person, who showed everyone what Manchester had to offer,” said former Manchester City striker Jon Macken, who was playing for the club when Hatton was at his peak.

“[Kevin] Keegan loved him and wanted him around. The players loved to talk to him, get a story off him back then.”

News of Hatton’s death emerged on the morning of the Manchester derby on 14 September. He was honoured by both sets of fans at Etihad Stadium.

“Nowadays, the Mancunian ones like Phil [Foden], they knew him and knew what he was,” Macken said.

When Floyd Mayweather came to Manchester Town Hall in 2007, Hatton’s followers were ready.

Steve Tallo-Brady, a boxer-turned-coach who worked with a young Hatton, said: “I remember having a coffee with his mam and she said to take some eggs because Mayweather has been going at Rick in the other cities.”

The Mayweather fight in Las Vegas was one that was guaranteed a big build-up. Manchester was a stop on a media tour to hype the mega bout.

“I went to my in-laws who grew fruit and vegetables, and I got two big bin liners of tomatoes and plums. We pelted them at Mayweather when he was in his [Manchester] United shirt,” said Tallo-Brady.

“Carol [Hatton’s mum] rang me from the pub across the road and she said ‘Steve did you just throw tomatoes at Mayweather?’ and I could hear the pub erupting.”

The world got to know about Hatton’s Manchester character thanks to a fly-on-the-wall HBO documentary called 24/7.

It showed Hatton inside the gym and his gruelling sessions.

Yet any punter could see this in person as sessions with coach Billy Graham at the Betta Bodies gym in Denton would sometimes be public events.

Paul Smith remembers chaotic scenes.

He said: “There would be Michael Gomez’s kids running around, Campbell [Hatton’s son] would be in there when he was small, the lads in the weight room next door would come in and watch the training, sometimes with pitbulls on leads.

“There were Billy’s iguanas in his office walking around, there were African bullfrogs.

“Billy would be in there with his feet up, window open and having a smoke between sessions. It was the maddest gym ever, but it just fitted.”

Hatton had become a star in Las Vegas as well as home. He had five fights in boxing’s unofficial capital as Hatton gave so many Mancunians an excuse to go to Sin City.

Hatton was an ambassador for numerous charities, including Manchester-based Barnabus, which helps homeless people, and mental health organisations such as Campaign Against Living Miserably (CALM).

He always wanted to give back.

“I would get invited to a whole range of things and events and I would spot in the corner of my eye, across the other side of the room, Ricky just chatting to people,” said Andy Burnham, the mayor of Greater Manchester.

“I will always think about that when I think about Ricky Hatton.

“He was the kind of person who turned up to things. Not everyone is.”

‘The Hitman’ retired, after a comeback in 2012, with a record of 45 wins and three defeats in 48 fights having won world titles at light-welterweight and welterweight.

He was an MBE and is a member of the International Boxing Hall of Fame.

“He loved everything he achieved,” said Speak.

“But he always said to me ‘The biggest achievement I had was not the belts or the awards, it was the fanbase and the love of the fans’.

“That was his greatest achievement outside of his children.”

Hatton paved the way for so many to follow in his footsteps. Manchester fighter Crolla was just one of them.

“When Ricky was fighting, every schoolboy boxer in the area would be trying to throw body shots like Ricky Hatton – probably to the annoyance of their coaches,” said Crolla, who remembers fondly the buzz of boxing on an amateur show when Hatton would show up to hand out trophies.

“The gyms are bursting at the seams because of Ricky Hatton,” said Tallo-Brady, who got Hatton to open his Tameside Elite Boxing Academy 22 years ago.

“If you looked at Madonna in the music industry or a Bruce Springsteen, Rick’s got that aura about him [in boxing].”

Speak said a foundation in Hatton’s name is already being set up. The gym will continue to operate in Hyde, and Speak, along with many, would love to see a statue.

Burnham plans, when the time is right, to begin discussions about a permanent memorial for Hatton.