Ricky Hatton, a legendary champ who was only too human

young new delhi: Ricky Hatton was ne'er supposed to bunk Kostya Tszyu – the Russian-Australian had reigned for o'er a decade. When the Manchester fighter challenged him for IBF and The Ring junior welterweight titles in 2005, few gave him hope. But Hatton overwhelmed him, forcing the champion to seize the belts. That night elevated Hatton’s status from local hero to global star and reignited Britain’s interest in boxing.

But what set Hatton apart was more than his record – 45 wins in 48 bouts, multiple titles at light welterweight and one in welterweight – it was the way he fought and the way he lived. He was an aggressive, entertaining pressure fighter in the ring and that’s enough for fans to get behind a fighter. But even outside it, he was a working-class lad who liked a pint, football and a laugh, making him really relatable.

Fans saw themselves in him and they followed him in thousands, across continents to Sin City. No British fighter since, be it Anthony Joshua, Tyson Fury or Amir Khan, has farmed the same aura as Hatton did.

After unifying belts in the light-welterweight division, Hatton stepped up to 147 pounds to beat Luis Collazo for the WBA crown.

But like his intense rise, his unravelling was so too. In hindsight, in a career spanning fifteen years, his biggest nights came in defeats. First to Floyd Mayweather, then Manny Pacquiao. Those losses stripped his unbeaten aura and left him questioning his place in the sport.

Away from the ring, darker battles emerged. Hatton spoke openly about depression, drink and drugs about panic attacks that left him weeping in pubs before a drink was even poured. “We all laughed at Ricky Fatton,” he once said of his notorious weight ballooning, “but life kicked my arse with a vengeance.”

With depression comes self-criticism enough to knock you out if the illness doesn’t do that itself. He continued to grapple with his identity that was once defined by what an incredible fighter he was to how he was a wreck. That did a number on his mental health more than anything.

He attempted an ill-advised comeback in 2012 against Ukraine’s Vyacheslav Senchenko, but the old magic was gone and so was his health and fitness. Still, Hatton never really left boxing. He became a trainer and manager, guiding younger fighters while remaining one of the sport’s most approachable figures. In 2022, he returned for an exhibition with rival turned friend Marco Antonio Barrera that gave him something to hold on to.

Even in his mid-40s, the itch never left. Just days before his death, Hatton posted photos of himself preparing for another exhibition in Dubai. It aligned with a man who, through triumph and turmoil, wanted to fight. In the ring and off it.

Ricky Hatton’s career was full of great nights. He made ordinary fans feel extraordinary and eventually, reminded them that even the toughest can break. Through it all, the chant that his fans sang on the night against Tszyu remained true – ‘There’s only one Ricky Hatton.’

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