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

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Soon after, the referee called timeout. He tugged a reluctant Minter to his corner for the ringside doctor to inspect the facial damage. Minter’s face looked like someone had slashed him above and below each eye with a knife. The crowd’s mood changed. Chants turned to grunts. Minter’s father-in-law and trainer Doug Bidwell had seen enough. Bidwell stopped the fight. Minter lodged his arms on the ropes in frustration. Hagler sank to his knees in the middle of the ring as if in prayer. The title was finally his.

Then a beer can whistled towards Hagler’s head. Before Hagler could get to his feet, another object flew over his bald dome, then another missile and another. Soon bottles and cans rained. The new champ curled into the canvas like a scared child at a fireworks display. The police jumped into the ring to apprehend a man who tried to attack Hagler.

I couldn’t believe how quickly the crowd had soured. Nor could I tear my eyes away from the screen. Hagler’s corner men Goody and Pat Petronelli came into the ring to protect him. They formed a human pyramid over the fighter as the crowd gathered ringside to shout racist abuse. Most of the press sitting ringside sheltered under tables or held chairs above their heads to avoid being hit by the alcoholic missiles. Objects struck Carpenter and ITV’s Reg Gutteridge, British boxing’s foremost commentators. These fans, it appeared, had not thrown empty cans and bottles. They had thrown half-full weapons in disgust and hatred.