Ricky Hatton was ours long before the world claimed him. Born Richard John Hatton in Stockport in 78, raised on the Hattersley estate, he carried Manchester in his fists and his heart. You could see it in the way he fought  relentless, no frills, all pressure and heart. A proper lad from a proper place, and he never pretended otherwise.

He turned pro in 97, and from that moment on it felt like we were all in the ring with him. The night he beat Kostya Tszyu in 2005, Manchester shook. Eleven brutal rounds, the champion sat down on his stool, and Ricky stood taller than anyone had ever seen him. That was the night the world knew what we already did: that the Hitman was one of us, and one of the best.

He gave us nights you can’t bottle — the demolition of Castillo, the homecoming at the City of Manchester Stadium with 55,000 voices behind him, the Malignaggi fight in Vegas where he showed the Yanks what a travelling army looks like. Even in the losses, against Floyd Mayweather and Manny Pacquiao, he carried himself like a champion. No ducking, no excuses, just a fighter who dared to take on the very best.

But it wasn’t just the belts or the bright lights. Ricky had that rare thing — humility. He’d crack a joke, pose for a photo, have a pint and a laugh, and you never felt like you were beneath him. He stayed one of the lads, no matter the stage. That’s why people loved him. That’s why they always will.

He had battles outside the ring too — depression, the dark nights, the weight of it all. But he faced those fights with the same honesty he showed when he walked into the ring. He talked about it, stood up to it, and by doing so, helped more people than he probably ever knew.

Ricky Hatton has gone far too soon, found at his home in Greater Manchester aged 46. He leaves behind three children, Campbell, Millie, and Fearne, and a legacy carved into British sport forever.

He was Manchester in gloves, a champion in spirit as much as in record, and a man who made us proud to call him ours.

Rest easy, Hitman. The bell’s rung for the last time, but your fight, your humour, your heart — they’ll never be forgotten. 🥊❤️