STEVE COLLINS EXCLUSIVE
Legendary fighter on Eubank, hypnosis and the magic of Millstreet 25 years ago
‘THE HYPNOSIS WAS TO TAKE HIM OUT OF HIS COMFORT ZONE ...IT WORKED’
IF IT was a script, they would have thrown it out for being too corny,’ Steve Collins declares through a wide grin as he meanders down memory lane to that dramatic night in Millstreet 25 years ago, an evening that felt like a throwback to another era when life stopped for world title fights.
On St Patrick’s Day weekend in the small Cork town, the dogged Dubliner with a granite chin inflicted upon Chris Eubank the first defeat of the Englishman’s professional career, in what was his 19th defence of his world supermiddleweight title.
Eubank, who played the role of pantomime villain to perfection, met an Irish roadblock. Embracing the underdog role, Collins weaved his way to the ring with Rocky’s theme tune blaring through the over-heated arena. The whole thing still has a cinematic feel.
Collins will spend this Paddy’s Day at a function in an Irish bar in Spain to mark the 25th anniversary and, as the fight is replayed on the big screen, there will be moments when he will wonder if it even happened.
‘How the fight came about, I was a stand-in, where it happened, the weekend it took place, all the drama in the build-up, even the result, it was like a Rocky movie and sometimes, I still wonder if it was real or just a movie,’ Collins says with a smile and shake of his head.
‘It was against the odds, this Irish fighter against the English guy people loved to hate. Eubank was great for promoting and marketing a fight, great for television. He brought the audience, the attention and the money. He made boxing big because of his personality.
‘Whether you loved or hated him, everyone knew who he was. The big, bad wolf, undefeated world champion fighting an Irishman on Paddy’s Day weekend. And I was there, ready to kill the golden goose.’
Life is quieter these days.
Collins has a farm in Hertfordshire, where he has planted woodland and keeps horses — the world champion has become like Richard Briers in The Good Life.
As much as he once thrived in the limelight, Collins tends to stay away from the public glare these days, although it occasionally finds him, like when he joined the Royal Military Police reserves in London a couple of years ago or his cameo role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.
‘I’m a person who likes his privacy,’ he proclaims, explaining he can’t understand the concept of people detailing every moment of their lives on social media.
Still, as he’s home in Dublin for the day visiting the Celtic Warriors gym run by his brother Paschal in Corduff, Collins is more than happy to accede to a request to reflect on one of the great nights in Irish boxing history, which may never have happened at all.
Ray Close, a decent middleweight from Belfast, was due a rematch with Eubank.
However, an MRI scan revealed a brain lesion and the British Boxing Board of Control wouldn’t grant him a licence. Collins stepped in as replacement, as he often did on some of his biggest nights.
‘Eubank had been avoiding me for years. He didn’t want to fight me. I had come back from America because Nigel Benn had brought the middleweight title back to Brityou ain. It was the first time that had happened, but I wasn’t getting my chance.
‘Eubank knew about me for a long time. When Ray Close got injured, Sky television pretty much ordered the fight. They weren’t happy with Eubank fighting second-rate opponents and they were threatening to pull the plug on his whole deal,’ Collins recalls.
It wasn’t the first time in his storied career that the Cabra native had received a title shot by default. Five years earlier, in his 17th pro fight, he got into the ring with Jamaican legend Mike McCallum as an 11th-hour replacement for Michael Watson. Collins took ‘The Bodysnatcher’ the distance but failed to win his WBA middleweight title. When he first became world champion, beating Chris Pryatt to win the WBO middleweight belt, he was also a stand-in.
‘Any big fight I got before becoming champion was never offered to me willingly. I got them through default. I fought McCallum because Watson broke his nose. I fought Eubank as a substitute. That is what I believe, and always tell young fighters, to always be in shape because you never know when you will get the phone call and you have to be ready.
‘When you become world champion, you have control. But when
are a contender, you have no control and must be prepared to step in at a moment’s notice. And I was always ready.
‘I worked hard and made the most of my ability but I was also very lucky that I was on the end of the line when the phone call came and asked me to step up. My good luck was
Ray Close’s bad luck and Ray was a good fighter, it could have been his night. But his misfortunate was my good fortune.’
The soap opera began with the press conference to announce the fight in Jury’s Hotel, Dublin. Collins arrived with a tweed suit and cap and two Irish wolfhounds.
‘I was the only fighter to ever turn up at a press conference betterdressed than Eubank, courtesy of Louis Copeland,’ he chuckles.
The press conference descended into barbs and insults and it wasn’t the only controversy in the big fight build-up. Collins had drafted in Tony Quinn, a former Mr Ireland bodybuilder, to work with him. Although it was claimed he was a hypnotist, Quinn was more a motivator and S&C coach.
The rumour spooked Eubank, who threatened to pull out of the fight. Collins decided to play on it, though, appearing to be in a trance-like state right up until the moment that referee Ron Lipton, a former sparring partner of Muhammad Ali, briefed both fighters in the ring.
‘We were looking at a way of taking Eubank out of his comfort zone and that is how we came up with the hypnosis. And it worked,’ Collins remembers.
It was an exhausting battle but the underdog, roared on the boozy crowd of more than 8,000 hemmed into a converted barn in West Cork, edged it over 12 rounds.
So oppressive was the temperature that the victorious fighter collapsed in the dressing-room and needed oxygen to be revived.
‘What struck me most about the night was the heat. I think it was built for 7,000 and there were more than 8,000 packed in there.
‘It was like walking into a sauna, because everyone was so packed in. The venue was amazing but I think passing out afterwards from dehydration and exhaustion was down to the heat.’
Eubank wasn’t happy with Collins’ preparation or the decision. And he let everyone know. The Dubliner, having been denied a second chance against McCallum, offered the English fighter a rematch in Páirc Uí Chaoimh in Cork city.
‘He was crying and whinging and coming up with all these excuses as
to the reason why he lost. So what did I do? I gave him a rematch. He went off and knocked out a couple of people, made some money and I waited for him. Gave him his rematch and beat him fair and square again. The second fight, I proved that I was a better fighter than him.’
It started the most successful period of Collins’ career. He would defend the WBO super-welterweight title seven times, including twice against Nigel Benn, who he still remembers as ‘the most dangerous man that I have ever shared a ring with’.
Having beaten both Benn and Eubank twice, Collins was forging a reputation as one of the best poundfor-pound fighters in the world by the late 1990s and there was only one bout left for Collins — Roy Jones Junior.
It was the one that got away.
‘I was 31 when I beat Eubank, it was late in my career. I had been a pro for 10 years.
‘To me, the only big names out there were Eubank, Benn and Roy Jones. After beating Eubank and Benn, there was only one fight left in me. Other than that, I had no interest left in the game because I had been in it too long. I’d had a few big pay-days and just wanted one more glory fight with Jones.
‘Once I realised that the Jones fight was never going to happen, I started skipping training because my desire and incentive was gone. The fear element was gone.’
Such has been the sense of regret that Collins never faced the great American that there have been attempts to lure them both out of retirement, as recently as a few years ago.
It has become a joke between the two fighters, who have since become friends.
‘I would have liked to have Roy Jones and I would have got into the ring a few years ago when they tried to get us out of retirement. We were both of the same age, it was going to be a novelty. But that chance has passed. He’s a good guy, it never happened. If we meet at shows now, we have a bit of banter about getting in the ring against each other.
‘They wanted me to fight Nigel Benn a couple of years ago. But I had no interest. For what? Money, there are other ways to get money. I hadn’t the desire anymore, to lock myself away in camp and go into that warrior mentality.
‘Even if the Roy Jones fight came up now, I’d just say to him, can we not play tennis or something like that?’ he says with a shrug.
The 55-year-old insists that never fighting Jones is not a regret hanging over his successful career.
‘No. I have no regrets. Where I am today, I’m in a very happy place, happy with my life. I wouldn’t change it in any way because I am very happy and content now and that is where my life has taken me.’
Although he’s friendly with both Jones and Benn, bad feeling still lingers over how Eubank reacted to his two defeats.
‘I don’t talk to Chris Eubank because I don’t trust him. To this day, he tried to hurt and affect me in a way that he couldn’t do in the ring.
‘He hasn’t accepted what I have done. Nigel’s great, I like him and respect him. I respected Eubank as a fighter, one of the toughest guys I ever fought but as a person, I don’t care for him.’
His two wins over Eubank would have repercussions into his retirement. Barry Hearn, the Matchroom promoter for whom Eubank was the prized asset, took him to court over a contractual dispute. Even though the court found in Collins’ favour, it was a stressful time.
‘Hearn did what he had to do. He’s a businessman and I understand it. He had a big investment in Eubank,’ he says. ‘It’s a tough business. All business is dirty but boxing is extremely dirty. And it is just about making money and about profit.
‘I never took it personally. Promoters follow the profit, look for fighters that will make them money. Some boxers get upset if they are not getting a chance, but you need to understand the business. If you find a way of making money, you are going to be successful.’
His son, Steve junior, was once a promising rugby player but has now followed his father into the world of professional boxing.
Collins believes that he has the talent and potential to reach the top. ‘But in this game, you need more. You need luck. You need the breaks.’
Those breaks allowed Collins to become the first Irish boxer to win world titles at two different weights (Carl Frampton and Katie Taylor have since joined him in that club).
However, he laughs at the suggestion that he is one of this country’s greatest boxers.
‘People say to me that you are the greatest Irish fighter of all time. But I’m not.
‘Nowhere near it. There were better Irish fighters than me who never won a world title, who never got the chance. I was just fortunate to be involved in two of the biggest fights staged in Ireland. And I won those fights.
‘I just got the breaks. Better fighters than me haven’t become a world champion, lesser fighters than me have won world titles but better fighters haven’t because they either didn’t fit the narrative, didn’t sell the tickets, didn’t have the personality or just didn’t have the backing or the crowd following.
‘Great fighters have not won world titles but ordinary fighters have because they made money. That’s the way the business is.
‘But the Eubank fight is done now and it can’t be undone. From the moment that my father brought me down to the Corinthians boxing club off Gardiner Street as an eight-yearold, that was the fight I dreamt of.
‘I worked hard, dedicated myself to the trade and in 100 years’ time, that fight will still be there.
‘It shows that if you work hard and sacrifice, you can achieve great things but greater fighters than me didn’t achieve what I did. I was very lucky.’
And he’s reminded of that fortune every so often.
A few weeks ago, he travelled with Paschal to Texas for Spike O’Sullivan’s bout against Jamie Munguia. In the dressing-room, the legendary Julio Cesar Chavez approached him.
‘He came over to shake my hand, congratulate me on my career. That to me was worth so much more than a million likes or hits on social media, this was a legend, an icon who I based my style on, coming to me and saying he appreciated my career, respected me,’ Collins says.
That respect was earned over a career that saw Collins win world titles at two different weights, take Mike McCallum the distance and beat both Nigel Benn and Chris Eubank twice.
But it will be a career mostly remembered for that remarkable night in Millstreet.