Imagine a world where everyone's opinion of you simply melts away, where external judgment holds absolutely no sway. That's the space Naseem Hamed occupies today, a space earned through dazzling brilliance and, admittedly, a touch of controversy. But what about regrets? What shadows linger in the mind of a boxing icon who changed the sport forever?
Once a whirlwind of youthful energy, the "Naz fella" who burst onto the scene 30 years ago is now 51, carrying himself with a quiet dignity. He reflects on the defining moment: stepping into Brendan Ingle's legendary Sheffield gym. "The minute I walked through those doors, that was it," Hamed recalls. "I saw the ring, the bags, the lines on the floor, and I was immediately obsessed. This was going to be my life." His vision of boxing was simple yet revolutionary: "I saw boxing as a game of tag. I’m going to hit you and you can’t hit me. It took speed and accuracy and I was really good at it."
For many, the first glimpse of Hamed's potential came in April 1992, a knockout victory over Shaun Norman. He was just 18, a Bambi-faced kid with a swagger that seemed more suited to a dance floor than a boxing ring. Fast forward two years to May 1994, and Hamed was crowned European bantamweight champion, dismantling Vincenzo Belcastro in a display of both skill and, some would argue, unnecessary showmanship. Belcastro, a seasoned fighter who had never been knocked down, was floored by Hamed's opening salvo – a devastating right-left combination.
Hamed, however, didn't end it there. He prolonged the bout, showcasing his talent, but also drawing criticism for what some perceived as cruelty. He toyed with Belcastro, even staring at his feet while landing punches. After another knockdown in the 11th, Hamed continued his relentless assault, prompting condemnation from the esteemed boxing writer Hugh McIlvanney. While acknowledging Hamed's "spectacular talent" and "astonishing feat" against a seasoned pro, McIlvanney deplored Hamed’s eagerness to treat his demoralized victim as something "no better than what you would wipe off your shoe.” But here's where it gets controversial: was Hamed simply expressing his dominance, or did his actions cross a line? What's the difference between confidence and cruelty in the heat of the moment?
Ingle, who began training Hamed at the tender age of seven, played a pivotal role in shaping both his boxing prowess and complex personality. Ingle instilled unwavering belief in Hamed, promising him greatness. "I was this little frail kid that didn’t look like I could punch myself out of a paper bag," Hamed says. "But I honestly believed I could change the sport. And I did." A new film, "Giant," starring Amir El-Masry as Hamed and Pierce Brosnan as Ingle, delves into their intricate relationship, exploring how fame and fortune strained their bond. Hamed admits to watching the film with "mixed emotions."
Hamed's rise was more than just a sporting success; it was a cultural landmark. He was a leading British fighter who defied easy categorization, facing racial taunts and often being mislabeled. He proudly identified as British, Arab, and a Yorkshireman of Yemeni descent. As he stated in a 1994 interview, "I am a Muslim, from Yemen, but born and bred in Sheffield. That tells you everything you need to understand about me.” Growing up in Yorkshire during the rise of the National Front was far from easy. Ingle often recounted the story of seeing a young Naz bravely fighting off three older boys – a scene that solidified his belief in the boy's fighting spirit.
Hamed acknowledges the presence of National Front slogans in the film. "It was all over the walls near the gym, not far from my house," he says. "But the biggest problem wasn’t just racism. The [boxing authorities] absolutely hated Brendan because he was Irish and producing fighters that were fighting different to everybody else in the country. We were hitting them and then moving." He emphasizes Ingle's crucial role in his development: "If it wasn’t for Brendan, how would I have been able to get really good? How would I have been able to learn the fundamentals of boxing, the footwork and confidence ingrained by him?" Despite facing adversity from amateur officials, Hamed's talent shone through, leading him to turn professional at 18. He also wanted to provide for his family: "I’m the son of an immigrant shopkeeper that came from Yemen. We don’t have any wealth in our family tree. So one of my greatest achievements was to make a new life for my parents, my brothers and sisters and my cousins.”
Tragically, Hamed and Ingle's partnership dissolved at the height of their success, marred by bitterness. Ingle passed away in May 2018, never having reconciled with Hamed. Now, Hamed expresses a desire to make amends, while also clarifying his perspective. And this is the part most people miss... He states, "I never saw Brendan as a father figure, even though he was trying to tell people he was like a father to me. I had my own father and I never lived in Brendan’s house – as they mentioned in the film. He did ask me to move into his home with his wife and kids but I refused because I lived just up the road with my eight brothers and sisters and my parents. I’m not going to jump ship from my own family. So a few moments are really sad between us.”
The pinnacle of Hamed's career came in December 1997, with a dramatic victory over Kevin Kelley at Madison Square Garden. But even this triumph was shrouded in controversy, with the film suggesting Hamed attempted to exclude Ingle from his corner and withhold his purse. Hamed offers a different narrative: "Nobody actually knows this. But imagine [Ingle] coming to me before the biggest fight of my life, and saying: ‘I want you to leave the gym.’ It was before training camp had started and I’ve got the hardest fight of my whole career. Kelley was a world champion when I was still a kid. I was also in his back yard." He continues, "But I refused to leave the gym. It was such a bad thing to say that to me but Brendan never really trained me. His son, John, trained me. John spent time with me in that ring, on the pads, to make sure that I got them punches so accurate. This has never been spoken about. I said to Brendan: ‘Your son is my trainer. He’s the one that went into my corner as an amateur for 67 fights. He’s the one I’m comfortable with.’”
Despite the division, Hamed acknowledges Ingle's foundational contributions. "Regardless, I always give him the credit of laying down them foundations," he says. "I always remember that … but in boxing these [enmities] can happen.” He adopts a philosophical stance: "The whole world can think whatever they want about me. It’s never going to affect me. I’m not one to think: ‘Oh, this film makes me look so bad and I shouldn’t support it.’ No. It’s amazing they’re making a film about you.”
"Giant" presents multiple endings including one portraying a reconciliation between Hamed and Ingle. Hamed confirms that reconciliation was something he truly tried to achieve saying he reached out to Ingle "many times. I reached out in so many different ways to make up with Brendan. I tried to sit down with him and apologise and ask him to forgive me. At the same time, I would have liked him to do the same, because it wasn’t one-way traffic. I felt we needed that but he was so stubborn. I was getting more mature and realizing that, if you fall out with somebody, let’s make peace. We spent 18 years together.”
Following the Kelley fight and his split from Ingle, Hamed continued his winning streak for six more bouts. However, he suffered his only defeat against Marco Antonio Barrera in April 2001. Afterwards, he only competed once more, against Manuel Calvo, 13 months later. Reflecting on the Barrera fight almost 25 years later, he attributes the loss to various factors, including a broken hand, a change of trainer, and a brutal weight cut. Hamed seems unfazed by the defeat, stating, "When the final bell rang I was still on my feet. Mike Tyson, Sugar Ray Leonard, Muhammad Ali, Sugar Ray Robinson, the greatest fighters that ever lived, have been exposed, looking up at the stars. That never happened to me and that’s why that loss for me didn’t really feel like a loss.”
Hamed retired at 28, a decision driven by wisdom rather than regret. "People said: ‘Why would you stop so young?’" he explains. "But I’d spent 10 years as a professional and 11 years as an amateur. Twenty-one years was enough. It will never be forgotten – not just in achievements but for young kids coming through seeing it as an inspiration. I had nothing else to prove. I’d won five world title belts and then the Hall of Fame came and it’s just amazing all these things happened to a young kid with big dreams.” He had also witnessed the brutal side of boxing: "We were taught by Brendan how dangerous the sport was," he says. "There were boards up in the gym that said ‘Boxing can damage your health.’ When you was as good as I was, and you avoided getting hit, it was different. But I chose my time to get out. I could have stayed and done whatever I wanted in the sport. But our philosophy was to hit and not get hit.”
So, does Hamed have any regrets? After a long pause, he teases, "The biggest regret of my life… You’re so intrigued." He then reveals a surprising answer: "This is so far from what you’re thinking but I’ve been brought up with a beautiful religion. So my biggest regret is that, when I was younger, I didn’t always do my five prayers [a day]. But I do now and it’s so important because the person I am today is the person I’ve always wanted to be.”
What do you make of Hamed's reflections? Is his biggest regret surprising? Do you think he truly made peace with his career choices and his relationship with Brendan Ingle? And, ultimately, how will Prince Naseem Hamed be remembered in boxing history? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
