Читать книгу No Win Race. A Story of Belonging, Britishness and Sport онлайн

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So, Minter had to defend his title against Antuofermo in June. The return, at Wembley Arena, was not controversial. Minter dominated, slicing Antuofermo’s face to pieces and causing the referee to stop the fight in the Brit’s favour in round eight.

Minter had been the golden boy of British boxing. A 1972 Olympic bronze medalist, he looked like a young Clint Eastwood, with a hard face but pretty features and a constant expression as if the sun was shining directly in his eyes. Out of the ring he wore tight flashy suits with his shirts unbuttoned to reveal his chest and gold chains. Minter had a flat nose, a wide face with a natural tan and a bouncer’s confident posture. His victory over Antuofermo made him the most famous sports star in Britain, sought after for sponsorship deals and ads. American fight critics didn’t think much of him though. Not surprising. American fight critics didn’t think much of most British fighters. These writers tended to load their articles with lazy jibes about what British fighters did outside of the ring (primarily drinking tea) and insults about how they fought in the ring (stiff and upright). Minter certainly did not move with the fluidity of fighters like the American Sugar Ray Leonard or Mexico’s Salvador Sanchez. And his biggest problem through the seventies had been his susceptibility to cuts, the core reason behind most of his defeats. But he was a gutsy performer, relatively light on his feet, with a piercing jab.