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November 2000
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MERTHYR'S FINEST
NEIL ALLEN pays tribute to the Welsh former world featherweight champion Howard Winstone, a gentleman inside and outside the ring, who died so unexpectedly at the relatively young age of just 61 |
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SUITED TO SALDIVER: Winstone's three shots at Mexican southpaw resulted in friendship between the fighters
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Mention the name of any great fighter you've watched through the ropes from the safe side of the ring and memory invariably slots in one instant image from the past - not necessarily of complete victory or defeat. With Howard Winstone, the peerless Welsh featherweight from the 1960s, the mind's backlog first registers more about the inner gentleness of the world champion than either his skill or courage. The mental picture frame which comes to me most dramatically, now that Howard of Merthyr has left us so unexpectedly at 61, is of an end-of-fight scene in the Welsh heartland of the Market Hall, Carmarthen on the night of 29 March 1965. Winstone had just been awarded a 10-round points win over a tough American named Don Johnson, who had controversially sneaked the decision in their first meeting at London's Earls Court, 14 months earlier. After 10 close rounds at Carmarthen, of which Winstone won no more than six or seven, both men fell on the canvas in mutual relief and
exhaustion, Winstone bleeding from the nose and cut by his left eye. What I treasure still is that after the decision had been awarded to
Winstone, and the crowd and he raised their voices in song, Howard sportingly kept his gloves locked with those of Johnson to show the
American he was part of the celebration too. The very first time I ever saw Howard in an international ring there was also singing by a spontaneous Welsh choir. That was at Sophia
Gardens, Cardiff, on the boxing finals night of the Empire Games in 1958. Winstone, who had won the ABA bantamweight title of that season
at Wembley, and had been carried back to the dressing room on the shoulders of his supporters, this time roused their Celtic hywl with three
rounds of sparkling boxing against Ollie Taylor of South Africa, whose team won four other Empire boxing gold medals before apartheid forced
their country out of the Games for many years. Even as the Cardiff crowd was rejoicing at Wales's first Empire boxing title for 20 years, we at ringside were taking note that Winstone
had lost the tips of three of the fingers of his right hand in an accident in a toy factory when he was still only in his mid-teens. As a
result, he was said never to have been able to "make a fist" properly. Yet Winstone was to be most famed during his nine-year professional
career of 67 fights, 14 of them for major championships, for his rapier-like left hand. But most of the men he fought, including the Mexican
world champ Vicente Saldivar, found the Welshman was far from one-handed. Winstone had his first pro fight on Wembley undercard o in February 1959. But his paternalistic manager, the former European welterweight
champion, Eddie Thomas, kept his youngster learning his trade in what we Londoners used to call "the provinces"; jobs in Newport, Ebbw Vale,
Porthcawl, Swansea, Aberdare and Birmingham. Unlike these promotion-starved times, there was always boxing on every week of the autumn and
winter. Young Howard liked to mix it: "I'm a bit wicked that way," he would grin "out of mischief, see, like a lot of Merthyr lads." But
Thomas insisted that pure boxing, notching up the points and rounds, was the way to the top. The move into the big time arrived in May 1961, when Thomas and Winstone came to London to take the British nine stone title away from the
Olympic flyweight gold medal winner, Terry Spinks, of Canning Town, at the Empire Pool, Wembley. Our Tel gave everything, as he always has
done during the vicissitudes of his life. But by the eighth round, Winstone's speed of hand was so dominant that he hit Spinks 20 successive
times without reply. After two more rounds, the East End's golden boy was retired by his corner, exhausted. And Winstone had won a national
championship he would never lose. A few of us still had doubts whether Winstone would ever be strong enough at nine stone to beat the world's very best featherweights.
Physically, maybe, we were right. But what we overlooked was the innate fighting spirit of which my friend, Ken Jones of the Independent, who
was born in Merthyr like Winstone and Thomas, says: "It's in the genes of people from there, like Howard, whose blood was part Welsh,
Spanish, Jewish and Irish. Of course his skills were polished by Eddie, but the will to fight was always there and would carry him forward in
those great fights with Saldivar." Ken Jones admits he would have loved to have seen what a peak-form Winstone could do against the mercurial Prince Naz, whose antics and
gamesmanship Jones has often found unpalatable. But when I think of the night at Leeds Town Hall in November 1962, when Winstone suffered his
first pro defeat -stunningly stopped in the second round by the American, Leroy Jeffrey - I suspect Naseem Hamed, at what was once his very
best (though not nowadays), would have had to travel the time warp back to the long-armed Sandy Saddler, world featherweight champ of the
early '50s, to find someone who would surely outgun him. Such comparisons can be odious when all a fighter can do is be among the best of his era. Why I will never forget Winstone in the ring
is for his three battles for the undisputed title against Saldivar, which I saw at Earl's Court in September 1965, Cardiff in June 1967 and
Mexico City just four months later. We should not be surprised that, after a total of nearly 42 rounds of awesome attrition, the two men
became good friends in spite of a language barrier, partying together in Mexico City during the 1968 Olympics and later visiting each other's
homes on either side of the world. As the late Rocky Marciano once said to me: "I always felt good about Jersey Joe Walcott. Together we made
one of the great heavyweight fights. I couldn't have done it without him." The 15 rounds at Earl's Court was a classic jousting tournament, with Winstone's rapier being outscored by the mace of Saldivar. At
ringside, I made the Mexican champion win nine of the 15 rounds, with one even, and gave the other five to Winstone, who was most in
command in the first four rounds but came back heroically in the 11th, 12th and 15th. Winstone had trouble for much of the bout with
Saldivar's southpaw stance, but I will never forget his final ferocious drive in the last round, as if the ghosts of all the men, who
suffered and died in Merthyr's old mines were now behind him.
Before the return at Ninian Park, Cardiff, I recall going to visit Winstone's happy new training quarters at Sunnydown holiday camp at
Llanarth. "Now smarten up boys," said Eddie Thomas dryly, "it's not often we get The Times travelling this far west." The sparring partners
included a talented young Scottish lightweight named Ken Buchanan, who was to climb to the world lightweight title with Thomas but split from
him over money. For Winstone's funeral, however, Kenny made the journey from Edinburgh to Merthyr's church of St Tydfil and quietly, privately,
laid a Scottish scarf upon the bier of his departed stable mate. That June night at Ninian Park more than 30 years ago saw one of the most stirring bouts I have ever covered - and the fight of his life
by Winstone. At the end of the 15 rounds the referee, Wally Thom, who had taken the British welterweight title from Eddie Thomas in 1951, made
Saldivar the winner by just half a point. That was exactly the margin by which my scoring pointed to Winstone. "Don't fight, don't fight,"
the 30,000 crowd had pleaded for fear that Winstone, boxing so beautifully in the first 10 rounds, might be inveigled into a slugging match.
Howard, who had said in training: "Look, see, I know, I accept, that I'll be punished by him. Can't beat him without that," eventually came
so close to being stopped in the 14th. Only that legendary Merthyr spirit put him back on his feet after being down for "eight" and then
twice nearly being hit right through the ropes. Incredibly he still did some scoring with his jab in the final three minutes. The third meeting, in Mexico City was something of an anti-climax and yet I will remember it, not only for the sportsmanship of both men,
both before and after Thomas had retired Winstone by throwing the towel in during the 12th round. It was also, I guess, the best card I ever
saw including Ruben Olivares and Jesus "Chucho" Castillo in separate bouts and Ernie Terrell losing to that rare sighting, a Mexican
heavyweight, in Manual Ramos. Readers of record books will know that Howard Winstone got his "world" title in the end by stopping Japan's Mitsunori Seki through an eye
injury for WBC recognition in the ninth round at the Albert Hall in January 1968. In the audience was the retired Saldivar who made a comeback
the following year, later beating Johnny Famechon for the title, but who was to die, of a heart attack, when he was only 41. Howard had just two more fights, an exciting 10 -rounds win over hard-hitting Jimmy Anderson after being floored in the first round and
then the loss of his WBC crown to Jose Legra of Spain at Porthcawl's Coney Beach fairground in July 1968. Winstone, down twice in the first
round, was sent back to his corner by referee Harry Gibbs after two minutes and two seconds of the fifth. It did not take Winstone long, much
as he was still in love with the sport, to agree that he must now retire. Finally he said: "They can keep all their titles now. My next move
is to start practising my singing for a lifetime of parties and good times. Ello Dolly is my best number . . . " We now know that for the ex-champ, whose later business ventures were unsuccessful, there were to be far too many parties. The reasons for
his death were reported as kidney and liver failure from alcoholic intake. I much prefer to remember the times when I met Howard, awarded the
MBE in 1968, at boxing reunions and found him clear-eyed and eager to shake hands with everyone. As Ken Buchanan said after attending his old
friend's funeral: "He wasn't only a terrific fighter, he was also a lovely fella." Amen to that. Neil Allen is former boxing correspondent of The Times and Evening Standard and now a contributor to the New York Time |
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