Boxing trainer. An appreciation

I FIRST met Brendan Ingle in 1995 when he brought his then rising featherweight superstar Naseem Hamed north of the border to let Scottish fans see for themselves just why he was creating multiple sensations in the boxing ring. On that occasion, the budding superstar Hamed blew away his opponent Sergio Liendo in spectacularly brutal style.

That initial meeting with Brendan Ingle was the start of a long journalistic relationship. He would ask my opinions about Scottish boxers like Willie Quinn when he clashed with a fighter from Brendan's Wincobank gym, but our friendship grew in time to encompass his views and philosophy of boxing and life in general.

For a man who became a leading boxing media figure and an MBE for the social benefits to Sheffield's youth, he remained totally down-to-earth - a reflection of the fact he was one of 15 children. However, his modest achievements as a boxer masked an innate genius for producing outstandingly masterful defensive fighters.

He wasn't shy about saying that he patterned his distinctive style on Muhammad Ali. But, as was typical of such a modest man, he also insisted that the masters of his evasive techniques (which drove opponents mad with frustration) had bags of raw talent to begin with. His job was to finesse it into a state of refined retaliation.

A charming man, Ingle was also honest about when - as occasionally happened - his hit-but-don't-get-hit philosophy rebounded badly as occurred when cruiserweight Johnny Nelson spent 12 rounds evading punches while throwing virtually none himself in a tedious televised world title fight. Ingle made the point that Nelson froze on the night, overcome by the occasion, but subsequently, with Brendan's encouragement, went on to redeem himself by winning the world crown, and subsequently successfully defending it.

Similarly, Ingle enjoyed telling me how the 1980s world middleweight champion Alan Minter initially sparred with Ingle's protege Herol Bomber Graham and told him to leave the gym as Minter could barely lay a glove on him. Again, Brendan alerted me to a rising young welterweight star called Kell Brook who was going to box in Edinburgh on the undercard of an Alex Arthur title bout at Meadowbank, although Ingle's Sheffield boxing associate Dave Coldwell was in charge of Brook. In due course, Brook became a world champion vindicating the Ingle reputation for being an excellent judge of boxing potential.

Brendan's son John also accompanied Ingle boxers north of the border and I found his sons to be as gregarious and knowledgeable as their famous father when I interviewed them post-fight in the dressing room. Equally charming was Mrs Ingle - Alma.

I appreciated the courtesy and good humour that was the hallmark of a Brendan Ingle pre or post-fight interview - which stood in contrast to the sometimes gratuitously aggressive responses of some other coaches and cornermen I encountered.

The Ingle legacy will endure and Brendan Ingle was proof that nice guys don't always finish last, even in a ruthlessly competitive milieu like professional boxing.

BRIAN DONALD