AMERICAN FANS EAGER TO SEE
IF HATTON'S THEIR CUP OF TEA

May 9, 2006 - by Nat Gottlieb

Among the things Britain's Ricky Hatton will bring with him when he boards a plane from England to make his championship fight debut in America are the usual suitcases, plus his father-manager Ray, trainer Billy Graham, English promoter Dennis Hobson, and a visa stamped with "40-0" to identify him.

What Ricky Hatton will not be bringing with him are his fiercely devoted, raucous fans who pack his hometown arena in Manchester 17,000 strong every time he fights. The English champion with the heavy fists will be traveling light, which begs the question: can Hatton translate both his great skills and his immense popularity to a country which once threw out the King of England because his tax on tea was not to their liking?

When Hatton, who made his mark in England as a junior welterweight champion, enters the ring to fight welterweight belt holder Luis Collazo (26-1) at the TD Banknorth Garden in Boston on HBO's "World Championship Boxing" Saturday, May 13, he and his American co-promoter Art Pellulo of Banner Productions know there is much more at stake than just a championship belt.

In a country where a combined total of 65 million viewers cast votes on the 2004 "American Idol" finalists (62,040 million voted for George Bush as president), it is clear that popularity is the reigning pound-for-pounder in this country. And while there is no question as to Hattton's great boxing skills, his British and U.S. promoters know if he is to make a $pla$h in the U.S., he must score both a victory over Collazo and win over finicky "show me" fans who don't put much stock in yesterday's news.

Wayne McCullough, the Irish boxer and former Bantamweight champion is a good friend of Hatton's, and has little doubt that the Hatton phenomenon will be a smash hit in this country.

"Ricky is the kind of fighter who will excite the fans," said McCullough, who has fought most of his career in the U.S.. "He comes into the ring to get the knockout or get knocked out. He takes chances, and that's what fans appreciate. He'll go toe-to-toe with you like (Ricky's idol) Roberto Duran. Not only will he be popular with American fans, but the Mexicans will like him, too because he is a warrior."

There are many American fighters who are wonderfully exciting in the ring, but lack charisma outside it, the kind of public persona that separates the Arturo Gattis and Oscar De La Hoyas from the rest of the boxing world. Hatton could very well be the latter kind of boxer.

While most of Hatton's popularity comes from his electrifying bouts, he is also a fan favorite in England because he manages to mingle with people in the Manchester community he lives in and is viewed by them as a regular guy, no small trick at his level of the fight game. Like any star, Hatton has made the British tabloids, but for reasons that only enhance his status.

Hatton loves everything about training except running, so he puts it off until the last possible moment, which sometimes results in him jogging down deserted Manchester streets at 2 a.m. wearing a so-called "hoodie," the kind young British gangs are fond of. On one such occasion, he was running not far from his home when a police cruiser stopped him, thinking he was a thug running from a crime. As soon as the cops turned Hatton around, they recognized him and apologized, saying, "We should have known it was you, Rick. What other idiot would be running at two in the morning."

At a time when more and more American boxing champions act like prima donnas, and think trash talk is a second language Hatton still hangs with the same buddies he grew up with, is polite with strangers who approach him, and signs everything thrust his way. Also contributing to his blue collar legend is his highly unusual pre-fight meal at a local McDonald's, his love for low-brow comedy TV shows and his ability to share a pint of Guinness with his neighbors at a local pub and somehow fit in.

McCullough became friends with Hatton four years ago when they shared an apartment in Spain while participating in a popular reality TV show. Curious about his new friend, when McCullough returned to England he decided to see his first Ricky Hatton Fight -- with a capital "F". For as McCullough learned when he watched Hatton take apart Stephen Smith, a Hatton bout in Manchester is more than a boxing match, it is an event.

"The crowds in Ireland are great, but I had never seen or heard anything quite like this," McCullough said. "When he enters the ring to the Manchester soccer team's theme song, 'Blue Moon,' the noise is unbelievable. The roar of the crowd never stops, and like at soccer matches, they sing throughout the fight."

McCullough, whose warrior style is similar to Hatton and Gatti, joined the legion of Ricky's fans that night in Manchester. "He's my favorite British boxer, and in my top five of all the fighters I like to watch today," McCullough said.

Last June, Ricky Hatton became with one victory what is known in the American vernacular as "an overnight sensation," meaning despite the fact he had been boxing nine years professionally and had fought 38 times without a loss, the perception was he came out of "nowhere." Hatton's recognition problem had always been that he lacked the kind of signature fight that thrusts a boxer onto the world stage. Other than hardcore American boxing aficionados -- who knew he was the real deal -- most regarded him as a quality hometown boxer with a record padded presumably with journeyman fighters and over-the-hill contenders. But then last June into Hatton's little Manchester fiefdom came Kostya Tszyu, the phenomenal junior welterweight considered by many at the time among the top two pound-for-pounders in the world.

When the fight was announced by Hatton's then promoter, Frank Warren, few outside of England gave him a fighting chance to beat Tszyu, But in the Hatton camp, confidence was high. During training, word filtered to the Hatton camp that Tszyu was in the gym a seemingly impressive six hours a day. Hatton's people viewed that as a big mistake. Ricky knew he was going to fight Tszyu at a very fast pace, and the champion would have to deal with someone coming at him from all angles, moving in constantly and smothering him. They felt training in segments over an extended six-hour period was not the best formula for success against Ricky's machinegun style.

Hatton, meanwhile was training 15 furious rounds at a clip, saying at the time that "this fight's not going to be a stop-start one. It's going to be start and it won't stop until the end of the last bell."

Hatton proved dead on. He won virtually every round, smothering Tszyu each time the champ tried to open up the ring. Eventually Ricky's non-stop, in-your-face attack wore Tszyu down. Hatton went on to win an 11th round TKO, and suddenly the name Hatton was known around the world. A star was "born."

Even Hatton was dazzled by his victory, so much so that he admits that "for two or three weeks after the fight I never really had it (Tszyu video) off," Hatton said. "For the first week, it was just a massive buzz watching it."

Five months later, a KO victory over junior welterweight title holder Carlos Maussa would cement Hatton as both Ring Magazine and the Boxing Writer's Association of America's 2005 "Fighter of the Year."

The working class hero from Manchester was hotly pursued by virtually every American promoter, each drooling at the prospect of bringing Hatton to the U.S. and exposing him to a far larger audience.

Hatton, meanwhile had split from Warren and signed with Britain's Dennis Hobson, who was smart enough to know Ricky also needed an American co-promoter to boost the impact of his U.S. debut (technically, Hatton had fought twice in America, but only as a fledgling pro in his second and ninth fights).

With Hatton now mentioned in the same breath as Floyd Mayweather, most expected him to get grabbed by one of the Big Three American promoters, Bob Arum's Top Ring, Don King Productions or Oscar De La Hoya's Golden Boy Promotions. But these high profile companies were used to fighters banging on their door to be signed. They rarely play college basketball coach and go on a personal recruiting mission, which proved to be a fatal misreading of the type of people Ricky and his dad Ray were.

The Hattons of Manchester do not get plucked like prize flowers in a rose garden. Father and son are men from the old school, who like to clasp a fellows hand, look him in the eye and take his measure. They were not dazzled or intimidated by the big names and reputations. What they preferred was almost arcane in today's boxing world: they wanted to get a feel for who you were before letting you into their trusted circle of friends and business associates.

One American promoter in the "Ricky Hatton Sweepstakes" sensed this, Art Pellulo of Banner productions.

"A lot of U.S. promoters called him to discuss deals," Pellulo said, "but I got the feeling it was important to the Hattons to meet me in person. So I jumped on a plane and spent a week in Manchester with them."

Typical of the Hattons, they didn't do up the Ritz, but instead took Pellulo on a tour of Manchester sites and ate at the Hattons' favorite neighborhood restaurants, including several fish & chips places. Most importantly, Ricky and his dad listened and observed. Pellulo knew he was under a microscope.

"With the Hatton's, it's important for them to have a rapport with you," Pellulo said. "They wanted to judge the kind of man I was -- as well they should -- because they would be putting Ricky's career in my hands."

The week spent in England did the trick, and the Hattons and Pellulo parted feeling comfortable enough with each other to eventually sign a deal. Besides a contract, Pellulo came away with a major appreciation of the kind of man Ricky was outside the ring.

"He's a very decent, respectful guy, loves his parents and respects people," Pellulo said. "I never got that aura of 'star' from him that comes off many of America's top fighters."

After several frustrating attempts to make an American fight, the Hatton camp informed the IBF sanctioning body he would surrender his belt rather than fulfill his mandatory defense against unheralded Ben Rabbah. Hatton had decided to go up in weight to fight Collazo, a boxer/puncher who likes to mix it up, a style guaranteed to make for a crowd-pleasing debut. Originally the fight was to take place at the Mohegan Sun in Connecticut, but as the buzz grew, Pellulo and Hopson decided on the Boston venue with a 17,000 seat capacity.

Any doubts Pellulo had that Ricky would be welcomed in America were dispelled by the reception the British fighter got in Boston. The media turned out in droves for the initial press conference, and the electricity was charged in both the large Irish community there and among the many British who also reside in Boston. In England, plans were quickly set in motion for several airplane deals to bring about 2,000 of Ricky's fans across the Atlantic.

One thing's for certain, should Hatton prove to be the real deal, he will inject some much-needed plain old boxing excitement in a division marred by recent title fight controversies and politics involving Carlos Baldomir and Zab Judah, and Mayweather-Judah.

While Mayweather is a better fighter than Gatti, a Hatton-Gatti fight somewhere down the line, with their similar styles and fight ethic, would generate incredible interest, McCullough said.

"If Ricky fought Gatti in England, they would have no problem selling out a 50,000-60,000 soccer stadium," McCullough said.

But for now, Hatton is fighting in America. If he needs any reminder of the pitfalls of taking your act overseas, Hatton need only recall what happened to Jeff Lacy, one of America's brightest young stars, when he went to England in March to fight world super middleweight champ, Joe Calzaghe. Favored in the fight, looking seemingly invincible, Lace lost every round in a dominating performance by the local hero.

"Coming to America as a main attraction, Ricky will have a lot of pressure on his mind," McCullough said. "But he has had a lot of fights and he knows how to take care of business. He won't let the audience get him down."

Should Hatton duplicate his performances in Manchester, "down" won't be a problem. Chances are the crowd will be standing up cheering most of the time.