𝓤𝓷𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓝𝓮𝔀𝓼

Boxers’ battles have always extended beyond the ring.

From contract disputes with managers and promoters to dealing with personal demons, they don’t just fight with gloves on in the squared circle. It is a hard, gruelling, individual sport, and it takes more than the years spent competing in it off the combatants’ lives.

While the stories of guts and glory add to our entertainment, and tales of its athletes growing from deprivation to riches add to the allure, there are darker yarns to be spun about what was famously dubbed the sweet science.

Sometimes those involved — and not just the boxers themselves — fall on hard times. From blowing fortunes to never earning enough, or the struggles with retirement, the effects of a career taking punches to the head and the loneliness dedication to a craft can cause, the sport’s heroes can sometimes be left fighting in life more than they ever had in the ring. There are too many stories like this.

The inquest into Ricky Hatton’s death last September confirmed on Friday that he had been suffering from Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE), a degenerative brain disease that may have affected his behaviour. The coroner concluded that she “cannot be satisfied” that the former world champion intended to take his own life.

This was not a man cast aside by the sport which made him rich and famous. Hatton was 46 years old. A coach, manager and, at one time, a promoter. He had friends, a family and money.

But the CTE, almost certainly a legacy of his long boxing career, could have ended up eclipsing it all.

The sport will always face fights to defend itself, given the dangers it embraces. Sometimes those involved are wary — perhaps frightened — to delve into the world of CTE, in particular, because it is hard to consider enjoying boxing if you fully open yourself up to what can happen to some of the participants.

CTE is a progressive, degenerative brain disease found in individuals with a history of repetitive head impacts, such as concussions or sub-concussive blows. Obviously, that is a very real risk in a sport such as boxing. It causes tau protein to accumulate, and can lead to cognitive impairment, mood swings and dementia.

When it comes to boxing, it is often described as ‘demential pugilistica’ or ‘punch-drunk syndrome’. The symptoms can be obvious in some, with slurring words and physical issues, but can go undetected in others.

“Boxing is the very first sport in which this was highlighted,” says Dr Judith Gates, co-founder and chair of Headsafe Football, and whose husband Bill, a former player for English club Middlesbrough, died from the effects of CTE in 2023. “They were talking about this in the 1920s, and we’re getting greater knowledge about the dangers of the repetitive blows to the head, as well as the obvious dangers of symptomatic concussions and the need to avoid second impacts.

“Over the last 20 or 30 years, that knowledge has exploded. But the knowledge of the dangers of blows to the head has been around for well over 100 years.

“I don’t want to be doom and gloom, but I equally want to be absolutely realistic: nothing can be done to stop the disease. There are no treatments for CTE yet that lead to a cure. It is argued a healthy lifestyle can slow the progression, but it is a progressive neurodegenerative disease that begins with injury to the brain and then progresses to the disease state, often over decades, culminating in tau tangles, which cause a whole range of issues: from psychological problems, tormented behaviour to depression and aggression.”

Tony Jeffries, a bronze medallist from the Beijing Olympics in 2008, had his professional career cut short by hand injuries. He now sees that as a blessing.

The British boxer endured a few bouts of forgetfulness and, having read about other fighters’ issues, took part in a research project at the Cleveland Clinic in Las Vegas. Jeffries is now based in Los Angeles and still regularly attends the clinic for scans and tests, while he also continually tries to improve his brain health by remaining active with his gym business.

“I reckon I have taken over 50,000 punches to the head during my career,” he says. “I never thought I would say this, but those hand injuries were the best thing that happened to me.

“Brain damage is real. CTE is real.”

Chris Nowinski, a former professional wrestler and suspected CTE sufferer, is CEO of the Concussion Legacy Foundation and co-founded Boston University’s CTE Centre.

“We created a helpline at the foundation to help people navigate very difficult medical care systems, both here in the United States and in the UK, Canada and Australia,” he says.

“Big picture, what I’ve learned is that there are very few people with expertise treating athletes with suspected CTE, and that these patients can be very complicated. There can be a lot of mental health issues, a lot of psychiatric symptoms, and we don’t have any good ways to disentangle what is related to their traumatic brain injuries or their CTE.”

But there are people out there seeking to help.

Dave Harris is one of the leaders of the Ringside Charitable Trust, set up with the mission to build a 36-bed residential care facility for ex-boxers. The charity helps with mental health issues, but also with older fighters suffering from the effects of the sport — whether CTE or dementia.

They raised £500,000 for their home, but have had to eat into that fund to help former fighters who are struggling. Ringside also has a helpline manned by ex-boxers who pass on details for relevant support services such as the Samaritans, Dementia UK, Alcoholics Anonymous, MIND and more.

“We’ve had two cases of attempted suicide recently,” Harris tells The Athletic. “One was a family member ringing up asking for help after their loved one tried to take their own life. The other was a fighter. It’s a true epidemic of people that have got dementia.

“You’ve got former boxers who virtually can’t walk anymore and can hardly speak. You’ve got all the usual ones from the past and now you’re getting all these new ones coming through, and there’s a lot more coming through all the time.

“Wives have phoned up saying their husband’s just been diagnosed with dementia and what can they do?”

Harris has sought help from the British Boxing Board of Control (BBBofC), promoters and current fighters. He has held talks with Matchroom founder Barry Hearn about support and wanted the BBBofC to put one per cent of fighters’ purses into the fund.

Anthony Joshua is a current ambassador and wore the charity’s logo on his ringwalk jacket before his December win over YouTube star Jake Paul.

Harris, a former boxer who has been working for over seven years on the project, wants to hold talks with government ministers to get further help. “We’re kicking up a storm,” he says.

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Delivering support to former boxers suffering mental health issues has not always been easy. It still isn’t. In a sport centred on the individual, coming together isn’t that simple.

The BBBofC this month confirmed a link-up with Sporting Chance, the group founded by former Arsenal and England footballer Tony Adams, which provides “talking therapy services to sportspeople and support staff in sport”. BBBofC licence holders have access to the Sporting Chance helpline around the clock.

“It wasn’t just the athlete. It wasn’t just boxers taking their lives or trying to take their lives — it was also people around the sport as well,” says the BBBofC’s Dennis Gilmartin, who opened talks with Sporting Chance CEO Colin Bland, tells The Athletic.

Calls are answered by a specialist with a sporting background. “There’ll be some rare cases where Sporting Chance come to us and say, ‘In this particular individual, we feel there may be a need for an assessment or further care’,” adds Gilmartin. “So we then deal with it on a case-by-case basis.

“For boxers in particular, the hardest part might be retirement. Some boxers retire on their own terms but invariably they don’t. They get retired. This service will be available for the next year after they make that transition from being a licence holder to life outside boxing.

“You could say every sport is unique and has its own unique challenges, but boxing has more extremes than others. The success for an individual is unparalleled (compared to) winning a game with 10 other footballers. But the loss in boxing, taking it on your own… you are literally standing in front of everyone in your pair of trunks.

“That’s lower than a loss in any football game or tennis match or anything like that.”

The BBBofC is funding the use of Sporting Chance; there will be no cost to the 2,000-plus licence holders the body has among boxers, trainers and managers. Its staff will analyse figures each month detailing how many are using the service and will then evolve the programme over time.

They offer anonymity because there is a concern that those within the sport sometimes will be reluctant to speak about their struggles for fear of having their licence — and thus ability to compete — suspended if they admit to problems.

“We think it’s beneficial,” Robert Smith, the general secretary of the BBBofC, tells The Athletic. “If it’s used, fair enough. If it’s not used, then that might suggest maybe boxers haven’t got a problem, but we know that’s not true. We know they’re all human beings, and everybody has problems.”

The BBBofC also has its own charitable trust, funded by fines from disciplinary cases and profits from an annual awards lunch — which Adams attended recently to announce the Sporting Chance partnership. It helps former fighters who have fallen on hard times on a case-by-case basis.

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This is not just a UK problem, of course.

Boxers all over the world suffer serious injuries, struggle with mental health problems or show signs of CTE; from little-known journeymen to former multiple-weight world champions such as Thomas Hearns, who has been diagnosed with dementia.

One of the many reasons boxers can struggle after the conclusion of their career is that they lack any structure around them. While other sports have unions — such as the Professional Footballers’ Association — boxing does not. The Global Fighters Association, which has Paul Smith and Amir Khan as founders, is the latest group to try to set one up.

Barry McGuigan attempted to form a union in the early 2000s, but the former world featherweight champion says the sport “rails against unions” because of the individuality of it and getting boxers to put into one pot for all.

“Maybe the simple way around it would be to agree with television companies and promoters that they take a piece of the television revenue and invest it in an organisation that looks after ex-fighters falling on hard times,” says McGuigan. “That might be the simplest way around it. Then again, you’ve got to get all of these managers, promoters, television companies to agree to that, and therein lies your problem.”

McGuigan believes boxers at all levels should have alternative careers so that they not only have another source of income, but also some structure to their lives upon retirement. “Some boxers may turn their nose up at working a trade, but they should do that while they’re fighting as well,” he adds.

That’s something the BBBofC supports but, as general secretary Smith has found out, not all fighters want to listen. Only a tiny percentage of boxers who turn professional earn a level of riches which can sustain their lifestyle following the end of their career. Mental-health problems do not just affect those who are struggling financially, but it is certainly more difficult to deal with life after boxing if it is difficult to get by.

“We tell them this when we interview them for a licence — that they should have another career — but they sometimes look at me like, ‘What is this old man saying? I’m going to be world champion’,” says Smith.

Project Boxing, founded by former world lightweight champion Anthony Crolla and boxing manager Dominic McGuinness, helps fighters fund their careers by assisting with sponsorship and training camps, but also works to find career pathways.

“I didn’t have a Plan B. I was very lucky in that boxing did work out for me,” says Crolla. “I did a bricklaying course, but I gave up. I had loads of setbacks in boxing but I kept trying and I was lucky it worked out.

“For most, it doesn’t. If I had my time again, I would be looking for work and opportunities while I trained, which is what we want Project Boxing to do for fighters.”

Then there is the Ricky Hatton Foundation, which was in the process of being formed before the fighter’s death last year. That is a project looking to continue to raise awareness about mental health and ensure the legacy of the Manchester boxer lives on.

Hatton’s battle with CTE shows the sport needs to do even more.

If you would like to talk to someone having read this article, please try Samaritans in the UK or United States. You can call 116 123 for free from any phone.