by The Editor's Blog, with Bob Bounds
Tuesday, May 3 2011
Such sad news about the death of Sir Henry Cooper, who was born in Kent and spent much of his latter years in the county. I met him less than 18 months ago and was struck by what good shape he appeared to be in. Like many people comfortably into his seventies, he had suffered the odd health problem but was in fine fettle, in marked contrast to his legendary foe, Muhammad Ali. His posture was superb for someone who had a slightly crouching style from which he unleashed 'Enry's 'ammer'. Even more remarkable since he had put his body through 80-odd amateur bouts before embarking on a professional career of 55. I was sat next to the great fighter at a dinner at the Ramada Hotel in Maidstone and was transfixed, not necessarily by the man himself, but by the fact that the left hand which now held a fork had felled the one and only Ali. In the reception beforehand I bumped into a former colleague of mine and knowing I would be introduced to the great man in a few minutes asked if he was 'Sir' Henry (wanting to avoid dropping a faux pas - not that the most modest of men would have been the slightest bit bothered). "Nah", came the reply "..think he's just an OBE". Then just as I marched up to the plain 'Henry' I saw that former colleague looking slightly panic-stricken, gesturing to me behind the former boxer's back (I think by tapping himself on both shoulders) that he was indeed a 'Sir'. And rightly so.
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