By Gavin Bridges: In something of a halcyon night of the future great and good in British boxing, the British Light-Heavyweight title was contested at the legend-laden York Hall in Bethnal Green between two fighters carrying ‘0’s proudly alongside themselves, Nathan Cleverly and Danny Mcintosh. Cleverly, current incumbent of the commonwealth title, made it clear his intention to trade with the brash, heavy-handed Mcintosh in the build-up to the bout, and few in the auditorium were left in any doubt at the final bell.
At the opening bell, Cleverly sprung from his corner, firing the first of many rapier-like leading rights, before the round denigrated into a tussle, evidently both men trying to impose a belief of superior strength. It took a reprimand of Cleverly for sending some choice shots south of the border for the bout to settle, and when it did Cleverly began to impose his superior class.
In a second round which will long remain in my memory, filed under “what the hell?”, Mcintosh this time took it upon himself to return the favour to the Welsh student of Maths, by loading everything into a barrage to start the second, a move which rekindled the beast in Cleverly. Pace, accuracy, combinations, Cleverly was going through the textbook in throwing stinging shots from all angles, and when something gave it was Mcintosh who found solace on the canvas with just over a minute of the round left.
With a mixture of surprise, dismay and effrontery, he rose to his feet retaining the arrogant swagger unbefitting his current predicament, and despite shows of further aggression he found himself prone for the second time in the round, a sweeping right hook which epitomized the term ‘picture perfect’ landing flush to the jaw of Mcintosh.
As the count reached 8, suddenly Mcintosh’ legs arched back, and in a blur of silver, muscle and bravado, sprung himself to the vertical. Sanity, doubtful. Front, plenty!
The next few rounds continued to script, with Mcintosh taking another trip to the canvas in the third, an atmosphere of humour and genuine joy hovered over the bout, as both boxers goaded and verbally sparred throughout, macho posturings aplenty, Cleverly with the sharper, cleaner work, Mcintosh loading up from his boots for the sporadic onslaughts, until Cleverly finally caught his man one time too many, referee Howard Foster calling a halt to proceedings halfway through the seventh.
Whilst far from a blemish-free performance,. in the post-bout interview Cleverly stated his intention to take the heart from Mcintosh, by taking him down with his own game, and he certainly succeeded. Indeed, the ever-brash Mcintosh, still carrying a cheeky grin and a sparkle in his eye, was wonderfully magnanimous in defeat, paid tribute to his conqueror, still bemused by the pace, accuracy and quality of Cleverly’s work ; “One second I was standing in front of him, the next I was on my back thinking ‘Where the hell did that come from?’
Talk is afoot of Cleverly making a move to one of the alphabet titles before a year passes, and on the face of his current fights and improvement after each bout, I certainly believe he will be in possession of a belt easily in that time. To dissect the division, I only see the likes of Hopkins, Dawson and Pascal as opponents to be currently avoided, and I for one will be glad to see this classic division get a much-needed shot in the arm. In Cleverly there is an erudite, charismatic humble individual, respecting the traditions of the sport, who through all this with looks and burgeoning talent who could do just that. I often when watching him fight, see stylistic similarities to the rangy, whipping style of Thomas Hearns, if Cleverly’s career returns a fraction of the thrills “The Hitman” once brought us I, for one, wont complain.
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