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By Steve Bunce
THE debate over Ryan Garcia’s mind continues and there is no end in sight. Meanwhile, far away from the millions of dollars and the neon lights, a lot of other boxers have their difficulties with mental health. Garcia is just the poster boy for the damaged.
Anthony Phythian was damaged, make no mistake. He was at one point banned from every football club in the land. He was also homeless, violent, addicted and falling ever deeper into a dark, dark hole. He had swollen to nearly 20 stone and was ready in a flash to fight anywhere and anybody on the pitch, on the street, in a pub, in a car park. Anywhere.
In Bolton last week, Phythian was ringside to watch his friend, Macaulay McGowan, in the fight of his life. McGowan has had his own demons. It was some fight, not one for the squeamish. At about 2am, Phythian sent me a picture of McGowan hugging his partner at ringside.
The message was simple and meaningful: “That’s what it’s all about.” It was a healthy fighter, surrounded by somebody who loves him. He’s right and poor Garcia could do with some of that treatment.
When Phythian was 35, he was refused a licence to box by the British Boxing Board of Control. “I had no amateur experience and just a few white-collar fights. I knew I had to have some amateur fights to get to my dream,” Phythian told me in Bolton. His terrace life was behind him, an infamous legacy dropped like a stone.
There are iconic pictures of Phythian leading rampages, dressed in a white boiler suit, on pitches at grounds. He stood accused of assaulting a police horse and a lot more. Those were the lost days in his life. “I needed to change, I had to.” He started to drop the weight, started to think about being a professional boxer and not one of the most notorious hooligans in the land.
He managed two amateur contests before Covid-19. He lost his first, won his second and applied again. His aim had been 10 contests, and he knew that would be enough for the Board. Thankfully, he was accepted, he was a professional boxer. It was a new life – it was his salvation.
“I got my first banning order here in Bolton; it was 2008,” he told me. “When I boxed here as a pro, my manager, Kieran Farrell, said to me, ‘You are fighting at a football stadium.’ I had to tell him: ‘It’s not the first time.’”
There is no sugar-coating with Phythian and the fairy tale is in the detail and not, necessarily, the facts and figures. His first fight was at Bowlers in the summer of 2021, and he was matched with Ryan Hibbert. On paper, it was sensible.
“I remember that the changing room was filling up,” Phythian said. “People I had watched for years and known about; [Ant] Crolla came in, Joe Gallagher was there. I had sold 200 tickets and then I walked out – I could hear my name and all the lights were shining. It was incredible.” He was a pro.
Just being there that night, gloved up, a licenced boxer, surrounded by Manchester boxing royalty, was a success. That was progress; he was seven-stone lighter and a stand-up citizen. That was boxing’s badge. Phythian was 37 that night and had battled knockback after knockback. There would be another – he was stopped in a round.
“That was hard, really hard, but I was living the dream and I had to go again,” he said. He did and he won his next four. Phil Martin, the great boxing saviour from Moss Side, often talked about the small changes, the improvements in a fighter being the real measure of personal change. I think Phythian and Martin would have worked together.
Phythian is involved with a boxing class called Cleaner and Dryer. The club, which is what it is, was formed after a friend took his own life. Depression, addiction, death – it’s a common trinity, let’s not imagine its rare. Cleaner and Dryer never had any boxers at the Haringey Box Cup last Sunday, but they probably had some potential members in the five rings.
he sessions are free, and it supports mental health and addiction through boxing. It’s not about the words, it’s about the action. That might have been the Phythian motto once in his former life: it is now in his new life.
Last week in Bolton – he was there with his teenage son – the only aggro he had was paying for his parking by phone. He seems at peace, his time in the ring was clearly part of that process.
The winning run came to an end back at Bowlers. He had back-to-back defeats, the last in November. That was it, the boxing game was over. He was 40 when he had his last dance, as he puts it. “I had come from drink and drugs and suicidal thoughts – I was nearly 20 stone; I was in big trouble and then I was a pro boxer. That is a dream,” Phythian said late Friday night. He’s right, by the way.
He’s finished with the boxing now and drives a tipper wagon on and off building sites. He did what he had to do in the ring, and it worked. Phythian also knows that all the darkest places are still out there somewhere. Garcia hopefully realises the same thing; he could probably do with a few anonymous sessions at Cleaner and Dryer. He would be in good company.
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