Goodnight Hitman: Liverpool boxing fan pays tribute to his hero, Ricky Hatton

Liverpool boxing fan, Richie Elder pays tribute to Ricky Hatton and reflects on his legacy following his tragic death aged 46.

When a young kid walked into the Phoenix Gym in Manchester to begin his professional boxing journey under Billy ‘The Preacher’ Graham, no one could have predicted what was to come. That boy was Ricky Hatton, and he would go on to become the best-supported and most beloved British boxer of all time.

As I sit down to write this piece, I do so from a place of deep emotion. The impact Ricky had on so many of us is evident in the outpouring of grief and love since his tragic passing at the age of just 46. Ricky, you were so much more to us than just a brilliant fighter. You were the embodiment of what we all hope we can be. Not only were you an extraordinary boxer—a ferocious body puncher and a relentless force—you were one of the good guys. You had a kind word and a cheeky smile for anyone who needed it.

As an avid boxing fan for my entire life, I can testify to being one of the millions who adored Ricky. From his early wars with Eamonn McGee and John Thaxton, to his climb from the canvas in one of those bouts and the horrific cut he endured in the other—Ricky’s sheer will and determination made sure his hand was raised at the end of both fights.

But perhaps the most iconic moment in his career came when he took on the previously insurmountable mountain that was Kostya Tszyu, the Russian-Australian puncher who had been a world champion for 8 years. That night, in front of his adoring fans at the MEN Arena in Manchester, at 3 a.m., Ricky’s place as a British boxing legend was secured.

However, I don’t want this piece to simply serve as a chronicle of Ricky’s illustrious boxing career—although it was truly remarkable. It’s not the titles, the belts, or the knockouts that will be missed. What people will wish they could see once more is Ricky himself—the playful raconteur, the prankster, the father, the brother, the son, and the grandfather.

The stories of Ricky are legendary: the drinks at the local pub, the after-dinner speeches, the “s**t shirt” parties he’d throw after his fights. These moments are what endeared him to all of us. Ricky was one of us—just a council estate lad who made good, and he would rather lose everything than lose who he was. He remained, right until the very end, the purest version of himself: authentic, genuine, and beloved by everyone.

I could sit here and write all day about what he meant to me, and to so many others, but it’s simply too difficult. I don’t want to be writing this—I want him to still be alive. The world is undeniably a worse place without him in it. While I never personally knew him, I felt like I did. I can only imagine the unbearable grief his family and friends are experiencing.

If any small consolation can be taken from this tragic loss, it’s this: Ricky Hatton brought joy to so many people, and that impact cannot be underestimated. He took over Las Vegas with his army of supporters and did it all with a wink and a smile.

Ricky, I’m heartbroken by your passing. For anyone who thinks that sounds dramatic, they simply didn’t understand the joy of who you were. I hope that, wherever you are now, people are still listening to your stories. Heaven has surely gained an angel—an angel with sky-blue gloves and a twinkle in his eye. You will be sorely missed. The song is true: there truly is—and will only ever be—one Ricky Hatton.

The final bell has rung, so go in peace and rest now, Rick. You’ve earned it. Goodnight, and God bless, champ. Thank you for everything.

Get the latest sports updates from The Guide Liverpool HERE.

Share your tributes to Ricky Hatton with us on X, here.