Iain Dolan reflects on his witness to the rise of a young Kevin Mitchell on the eve of his son’s pro debut
Sometime in the early noughties, I wandered into work with a Boxing News under my arm and my colleague Cheryl asked if she could borrow it when I’d finished with it. She noticed my raised eyebrow and qualified the request by stating that her little brother was featured. Intrigued, I handed it to her straight away, but she turned to the amateur pages, causing my interest to wane; and then to the junior section, causing it to disappear completely. She pointed out a reference to young Kevin and said that he was really good and that I should go and watch him some time. I mumbled that I would do so at some point but sidestepped most of the subsequent invitations. Eventually, Kevin had a fight scheduled in Camden which was on my way home so I agreed to attend and was pleasantly surprised. The prospect of two skinny kids wearing headguards and memory foam pillows on their hands did not immediately fill me with excitement but Kevin and the other lad went tearing into each other. There was a blur of blue and red padded leather with Kevin landing a lot until the other lad sat on the floor. Then he sat of the floor again and the ref decided that was enough of a beating for a skinny teenager and waved off the fight. My curiosity was now properly piqued.
It transpired that Kevin was about to turn 18 and enter the Men’s ABA’s so his next fight would be a London qualifier. Kevin won his early qualifiers handily enough (I have a recollection of two fights in one day at York Hall, but am not 100% sure) and eventually found himself in the national quarter finals at Crystal Palace Leisure Centre against the reigning ABA Men’s champion, a bloke called Mulholland from Liverpool. This was going to be a major test and a painful experience for Kevin’s mum Alice, who could hardly bear to watch at the best of times and his two sisters Cheryl and Sarah who would be, to say the least, animated throughout. Both very nice ladies and fun to be around, but if they were watching their little brother get punched in the face, the language would have made any sailors in the vicinity not only blush, but probably require a safe space and extended counselling, so standing or sitting next to them was quite an experience. As he’d already created a bit of a stir in amateur boxing circles, some of the great and good of West Ham and Dagenham had turned up to support Kevin and Mulholland had also brought a fair number supporters down from Liverpool. Judging by the state of some of the Scousers, a few had been drinking since early on that morning and a few others since early on at primary school. A lively atmosphere was created but despite the noise, a Mitchell sister was always clearly audible.
The first round did not make pretty viewing as, without wanting to get too technical, Mulholland beat up Kevin. It was man against boy and tough to watch for me, never mind his actual relatives. Still, no disgrace if he were to lose to a 25 year old national champion at only 18. Lessons learned and all that. However, it transpired that Kevin was a fast learner as he regrouped, stood in the pocket and proceeded to box the ears off Mulholland. You could almost hear the Rocky music as Kevin took control, pressed the action and roared on by the crowd, emerged victorious in the face of great adversity. A truly epic win and to my mind, still Kevin’s best with all due respect to the John Murray performance several years later as a pro.
I don’t remember anything about the semi final, I may not even have been there but the final was, of course, at York Hall. The atmosphere and noise was on a par with anything else I’ve experienced at the old Sweat Box when Kevin met Gareth Couch for the 2003 ABA featherweight title. Couch had brought a lot of fans too, so the noise was frantic and constant throughout, but Kevin did enough to take a hard fought, but well deserved, decision win. Pride, joy and relief for Alice and a shrieking celebration for Cheryl and Sarah. Job done – Kevin was the champ.
After that, Kevin turned professional and went mainstream. Fighting live on Sky sports, in the US and the big arenas and stadia of the UK (rest assured, you could still hear Cheryl from the cheap seats). Some big wins, some big losses, some headlines (not all on the back pages), some major bumps and bruises and a lot of great memories for him, his family and the Dagenham faithful to be proud of. Every step of the way you could hear me saying “Oh, I’ve been following this lad since long before you’d heard of him”. So, yeah, I was a boxing hipster before being a boxing hipster was a thing.
