I’m the only man alive who knows what it feels like to be punched by Mike Tyson AND shot in the chest at point-blank range
FRANK WARREN lost half a lung when he cheated death after being shot in 1989.
Ever since, he has dedicated the remainder of his airways to breathing new life into boxing — with this weekend’s undisputed heavyweight title clash between Tyson Fury and Oleksandr Usyk the culmination of a fascinating life’s work.
The Hall of Fame promoter sat down exclusively with Mail Sport at Queensberry’s offices, where a life-size statue of Prince Naseem Hamed presides over a gallery of photos featuring Warren alongside some of the world’s most recognisable faces, including Nelson Mandela and Tony Blair.
A £12,000 limited-edition book signed by Muhammad Ali adorns the space, as does Warren’s extensive model car collection. He passionately recounts his automotive journey from his first Mini 1275 GT at 17 to his current Jaguar XK150, all the while affirming his fondness for the Continental GT.
His enthusiasm swells as he delves into his boxing journey — recounting the subterfuge he deployed to break up the sport’s cartel of the Eighties, getting on the wrong side of Mike Tyson — and why Frank Sinatra almost led him to leave it all behind. But it peaks when speaking about Fury’s title clash with Usyk.
‘I can’t wait for the fight’, he says. ‘Tyson trained his socks off before he got cut. You saw him, you saw the shape he was in — contrary to a lot of the rumours stating he wasn’t taking it seriously. He’s in phenomenal shape.
‘I watched him on the pads with his dad and I could see how sharp he is and how lean he is. I genuinely believe you are going to see a vintage Tyson Fury.
‘He is a professor of boxing. He gets it right. He studies his opponents and he can adjust. He is capable of working out the perfect game plan and did that against ( Wladimir) Klitschko when everyone doubted him.
‘He studies these guys, he knows what he is doing. He’ll find a weakness, whether that’s a mental or physical weakness — he is great at finding that. It’s not going to be good for Usyk. I genuinely think he is going to put in a world-class performance and stop him.’
Despite Warren’s unconventional journey to the top — leaving school in Islington, north London, at 14 after ‘discovering girls’ — his competitive spirit has been a constant.
‘There used to be a real rivalry between our estates growing up,’ he says. ‘We’d play against each other in football. Our team was called the Priory as we lived in Priory Green and we played in the Regents Park Sunday League.
‘I was just 11 but I was the manager of the team. We had meetings above a pub in Finsbury Park when I was meant to be in bed. There were all these guys who had spent their time coaching kids and had their qualifications and then there was me. It was quite funny. They must have been looking at me thinking, “Who is this precocious p****?”.
‘But it was good fun. I probably picked up my organisational skills from it. In terms of rivalries, I definitely got a taste for it on the estate. Guy Fawkes used to be a big thing for us. Each estate would have a bonfire and it was all about who had the best. They’d be building their bonfire and we’d go across and pinch their wood.
‘It all sounds pathetic but it was a big deal. It wasn’t just that, we’d have fights as well. It was exciting but when I look back and think about some of the things we did, God. In this day and age we wouldn’t get away with it. We’d be playing on bomb ruins from the war. The safety level wasn’t good.
‘When it comes to the Hearns, I’ve always been ready for the rivalry and this Queensberry vs Matchroom 5v5 card in Saudi Arabia on June 1 is like heaven for me. I am going to be driving through Brentwood with a megaphone, screaming, “Where are you now, Eddie?” once I win. The bragging rights are going to be ridiculous, we cannot lose.’
Warren, 72, is no stranger to taking on his rivals. In the 1980s, the world of boxing was dominated by a small group of promoters known as the boxing cartel. Mickey Duff, Harry Levene, Jarvis Astaire, Mike Barrett and Terry Lawless controlled nearly every aspect of the sport, from fighter contracts, TV rights to prestigious venues such as Wembley and the Albert Hall.
But Warren was undeterred. With tenacity, ingenuity, and sheer force of will, he set out to challenge the status quo.
OPPORTUNITY came in the form of a clandestine meeting with Duff’s brother-inlaw, who claimed to have a stolen document that would unravel the cartel’s hold on boxing.
‘We arranged to have a meeting with this guy at the Waldorf Hotel. It had quite a dark bar area with sofas and I remember we pushed the table up against the seats so he could only just squeeze in,’ Warren explains.
‘Ernie Fossey and a guy from the office came with me. I said to the guy, I wanted him to come along and make out he was a solicitor. I told him I was going to give him the paper to look at and that he needed to walk out with it.
‘We all sat down at the table and it turns out Ernie knew him. He said, “Wow, you’re Mickey Duff’s brother-in-law”. We thought what a nice fella he must be stealing the document off his brother-in-law.
‘We had a few drinks, he got the document out and I said I need my solicitor to verify it. My bloke comes in with a briefcase, puts his glasses on, takes the document and says it was a bit too dark to see it. He walks over to a light then out the door. We are sitting there for about two minutes before the penny drops. “Where has he gone?”, the guy starts shouting and screaming. “This is a stitch-up”, and grabs my man’s briefcase only to realise there is nothing in it. We were pretending to look around going, “What’s going on here?”.
‘As we get to the edge of the bar, there was a cameraman taking photos. So I turned around and said, “You’ve stitched us up here”. He’s going, “What have I done?”.
‘It was actually a Japanese tourist taking the photographs but we ran with it. We pushed him into a toilet. I got him up against the wall and I was going, “I bet you’re wired up”. Me and Ernie were trying so hard not to laugh.
‘Anyway, we left and headed back to the office to look at the piece of paper. I gave it to a man I used to know working as a boxing writer for The Times. They did this big exposé.’
Warren’s influence in the sport grew, with Fossey as his righthand man. But it so nearly came to an end on November 30, 1989, when Warren was shot after one of his shows in Barking. He was left fighting for his life.
‘As I was getting out of the car, I heard a bang,’ he recounted. ‘I thought it was a car backfiring so I started looking around and I saw this fella there masked up. He had his hand up, holding a gun and I thought it was a joke to begin with.
‘Then suddenly I heard a click and I realised it wasn’t. I tried to get around the other side of the car but I heard the bang and suddenly I felt a pain in my chest and my arm. The bullet hit me in the chest but went out the side into