Everybody loves a Hollywood ending and Giant, a new film about the rise of Prince Naseem Hamed and the fraught relationship with his trainer, Brendan Ingle, does its best to contrive one.
In one of the closing scenes an imagined reconciliation takes place between the former featherweight world champion and his embittered mentor after years of bad-mouthing and accusations of betrayal. The illusion is shattered shortly afterwards when the end credits confirm their feud remained unresolved when Ingle died in 2018, but the cinematic depiction of their relationship, aided by the star power of Pierce Brosnan, who plays the Sheffield-based Irish trainer, has reopened many of the old wounds that festered behind one of British boxing’s greatest real-life dramas.
Hamed, who has remained as elusive in retirement as he was during his brilliant, effervescent pomp, had no input into the film — although the producers did attempt to reach him. Instead, it was guided by Ingle’s sons, John and Dominic, who grew up alongside Hamed in the Wincobank Gym.
Amir El-Masry as Hamed and Brosnan as Brendan Ingle. Hamed was not involved in the production of the movie but has decided to promote it upon its release
SAM TALOR
Upon first viewing, Hamed conceded it was a hard watch when confronted by the central narrative that his ego and the influence of his brothers meant he increasingly took Ingle’s time and tutelage for granted before the pair split in 1998.
Hamed was unbeaten in 31 fights and had announced himself as a star in America. Three and a half years later he was unofficially retired at only 28 after suffering his sole defeat against Marco Antonio Barrera in the interim.
Hamed decided to promote the film nonetheless but the press junket steadily began to feature more parting shots. In an interview with the Guardian Hamed claimed that Brendan Ingle “never really trained” him and instead credited the honing of his natural ability to John.
Hamed’s devasting punching power resulted in 31 knockout wins from 37 bouts in his career
RICHARD PELHAM/NEWS GROUP NEWSPAPERS LTD
When Hamed claimed on talkSPORT that Ingle Sr’s “true intention was money” and that he tried to “pin him down from 11 years of age” to give him 25 per cent of his future earnings, it proved the final straw.
“When all this came out, I was angry. Why are you doing this?” says Johnny Nelson, who is eight years Hamed’s senior and became the WBO cruiserweight champion under Ingle. “The uncomfortable thing for me is that Brendan isn’t here to defend himself. It’s wrong. I thought it was slanderous.
“I haven’t got an angle. He wasn’t my dad. But I know Brendan was a good man who helped so many people and changed so many lives. Saying something like that rubs it out.”
Nelson, who is portrayed in the film by Sanchez Brown, has been unhappy with Hamed’s recent criticisms of his trainer
KATE GREEN/GETTY IMAGES
Nelson goes on to explain that 25 per cent was the industry standard fee — “he’s made it sound gross, like he was grooming him” — and likens Hamed’s comments about John being his trainer to “Alex Ferguson having four or five assistant coaches”. But Nelson does accept that the film only “magnified one part of Naz, which grew. It didn’t show the funny, loving side,” which probably prompted “his ego to get the better of him”.
In spite of all the recriminations since the film’s premiere, what is unarguable is that the joyous early years birthed a legend like few others. Folklore — and the film — has it that Ingle spotted the “little Naz fella” from the top deck of a bus as he fought off three bigger white boys at the start of the 1980s when the National Front was active in Yorkshire. Not long after he began training at the Wincobank Gym, Ingle would tell anyone within earshot that Hamed was destined to become a world champion.
“When my dad used to do that, we just thought, ‘Bloody hell, it’s the ravings of a madman’, but they had a great relationship,” Dominic says. “It was unbreakable up until the point [Hamed] turned professional and he started grabbing the spotlight and everybody jumped on the bandwagon.
“He was given the tools by Brendan and, don’t forget, everybody in the gym was older than him, so when Naz was 11, Johnny was a pro. He had a lot of people to look up to and they kind of nurtured him as well. He absorbed everything and he was supremely confident.”
The Ingle family watch on as Hamed faced McCullough in 1998. The fighter and trainer split less than two months later
JOHN GICHIGI/ALLSPORT
Nelson most fondly remembers their antics outside of the ring before they challenged for titles. “The fun times were when we travelled away and we were on a hustle,” he says. “We used to play a game where we’d go to a show, nobody would have a ticket, and we’d have a competition [to see] who could get closest to ringside. It was just childish games like that.
“One of [Hamed’s promoter] Frank Warren’s employees was a bit of a twat, so we’d find out what room he was in and order food to his room. Someone on the outside wouldn’t get it.
“Brendan encouraged us to use industrial language. He taught us how to deal with abuse so when someone called you a ‘black bastard’ or a ‘P***’, we smiled. It would’ve looked like a dysfunctional family, but we weren’t.”
As ever in life, and particularly in a sport that involves putting it on the line, the tensions grew in accordance with money and fame. Ingle was scarred by a fallout with a previous fighter, Herol Graham, and Hamed felt the trainer was compensating by taking too much credit, along with a large portion of his purses.
Former welterweight world champion Kell Brook trained at the Ingle gym with Brendan, left, and Dominic, right
CARL RECINE/REUTERS VIA ACTION IMAGES
But Dominic does not blame Hamed for heeding the advice of his brothers. “I can kind of understand the paranoia he had about people ripping him off,” he says. “Everybody wanted a piece of him and he probably thought, ‘The people that are going to look after me are my family’, but his brothers had no idea whatsoever about boxing.”
Nelson is less diplomatic about how the breakdown unfolded. “It was horrible. We were all friends, and Naz was being disrespectful to Brendan, and I was thinking, ‘What the f***?’ ” he says. “They split and Naz was saying shit about him in the press. People would avoid Naz because they didn’t want to be [seen as] supporting that, and the press took the piss, because they knew it was a sore subject and Brendan would start ranting and raving. It got to a point where we had to make a choice.”
In the film John and Dominic rejoice when an ill-prepared Hamed loses to Barrera, but Brendan reaped no such vindication. In the years afterwards Hamed attempted to bury the hatchet multiple times, but Ingle always rebuffed him.
“It was a series of events that pushed him over the edge. I had to train Naz for the Wayne McCullough fight [Hamed’s last under the Ingles] because he wasn’t talking to Brendan. He came over and said, ‘I’m off Naz, that’s me done, I’m not training you. You’ve ruined everything,’” Dominic says.
“[Hamed’s] parting words were, ‘You’ll never have another world champion. I’m a gift from God. It’s not going to happen.’ There was a flicker of doubt in my dad’s eyes. You could see he was thinking maybe he’s right.”
Known for his theatrical entrances, Hamed once entered the ring on a “flying carpet”
TIMES PHOTOGRAPHER MARC ASPLAND
In reality, boxing has few romantic endings. The best usually only retire after they are well beaten. Dedicated trainers are abruptly blamed and ditched. Since leaving an indelible mark on the public consciousness Hamed had enjoyed a quiet retirement in the Middle East — a shift perhaps exacerbated by the terrible car accident for which he received a 15-month prison sentence and was stripped of his MBE in 2006. But his children have followed him into the sport and even trained at the Wincobank Gym under Dominic. Unlike so many old icons, Hamed is financially secure and has his faculties intact.
For the Ingles, a bitter divorce became a catalyst. “By the time we’d finished, [Hamed] was one of five [world champions], so it proved my dad’s methods worked. He wanted to be known as a great trainer. If it was just Naz, there could be an argument he just got lucky, but he produced world champions from scratch who weren’t as talented. It proved his system. That’s what mattered to him, not the money,” Dominic says.
It does not always read harmoniously, but, as Nelson puts it: “Time is a great storyteller.”