Sir Henry Cooper RIP

Henry Cooper has left us and it is not just boxing’s loss, it is a nation which is so much poorer for his passing. Because he was not just a champion, he was our champion, our pal, our favourite. Yes, Our ‘Enery.

Sir Henry Cooper, beloved of British postwar generations as no heavyweight boxer before him died aged 76 on the 1st May. His warmth and indomitable personality, together with his rise from humble roots, gave him a popularity far beyond his sport's normal boundaries. He was never world champion, but his good spirits seemed to hold a gift for everyone, even for his most notable conqueror, Muhammad Ali.

At Wembley stadium, on 18 June 1963, Cooper landed Ali, then known as Cassius Clay, on his pants with a punch that made boxing history – a left hook travelling five and a half inches at 30mph with 60 times the force of gravity, striking the side of the American's jaw. The world came to know it as 'Enry's 'Ammer, and it felled Ali as never before. However, in front of 55,000 people, Ali was "saved by the bell" amid unique controversy.

Ali caught Cooper with a typical blow in the third round. Jim Wicks, Cooper's manager, known as "The Bishop" and always protective of his man, was all for ending the fight as the blood flowed down his fighter's cheek. Cooper, in the corner interval, pleaded for one more round as his "cuts" man, Danny Holland, applied an adrenalin-Vaseline compound.

In Cooper's view, he could still take his man – and he very nearly did. The 'Ammer smacked into Ali's chin as he backed into the ropes, the American's speed for once not saving him. Ali slid down the ropes, the slowness helping him. The referee, Tommy Little, reached a count of five, then Ali rose, in Cooper's view like an amateur, his arms dangling, an open target. But the bell rang, and boxing history took another turn. "Oh boy!" was Cooper's autobiographical note. "If it had only happened in the second minute." As it was, Ali took the world title in his next fight, against Sonny Liston.

Cooper was to meet Ali – by then, his name had been formally changed after his conversion to Islam – for a world title fight at Arsenal's Highbury stadium, London, on 21 May 1966. Again the fight had to be stopped for a cut eye, this time in the sixth round. The gash was deeper and longer than any of Cooper's career. The Englishman reckoned himself narrowly ahead on points, but the blow was typically Ali, a long punch grazing with the heel of the glove. "It was a physical thing that let me down," Cooper said. "Prominent bones and weak tissue around the eyes. But I was never as bad as my brother, George. After all, I went on until I was 37." For years afterwards, Ali would pay tribute to Cooper. British boxing writers visiting him in the US would be told: "Give my regards to Henry."

Overall, Cooper's record was unmatched by any British fighter of his or any other time – winner of 40 of his 55 contests, 27 by knockout, one drawn, in a 17-year career from 1954 to 1971; winner of three Lonsdale belts for three successive British heavyweight title victories; holder of European and Commonwealth/Empire titles for sustained periods, the British for about 11 years. Many thought him unlucky to lose his last fight, and all three titles, to Joe Bugner, with a controversial points decision by the referee Harry Gibbs at Wembley stadium, on 16 March 1971.

Cooper, too, could be swift and able with the spoken word. In a 1970 TV debate, Lady (Edith) Summerskill, a notable opponent of boxing, inquired: "Mr Cooper, have you looked in the mirror and seen the state of your nose?" Quickly, he replied: "Well, have you? Boxing is my excuse – what's yours?" It was ungallant, he acknowledged afterwards, but after a pleasant-enough discussion she had rather ambushed him.

Cooper's career coincided with the dawn of the black-and-white TV era, and he was soon to stand with Stanley Matthews, Lester Piggott, Bobby Charlton, Roger Bannister, Leonard Hutton and Denis Compton as a national sporting hero. In his case, too, it extended to a long semi-retirement in which charity and public entertainment played a significant part. He was knighted in 2000 as much for public services as for his boxing skill and courage. They were qualities much leavened by a natural humour and modesty. He was an unabashed royalist, and made no secret of his pleasure in attending lunch at Buckingham Palace with the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh.

Born in Southwark, south-east London, Cooper always saw himself as an "Elephant" boy, meaning the Elephant and Castle area, famous in the early part of the century for horse-trading. There, his half-Irish grandfather bought and sold horses. The Thomas a Becket gym, where Cooper trained for the Ali world title fight, was part of that heritage.

The family had moved to a council estate in Bellingham, south-east London, in 1940, but the twins were soon evacuated to Lancing, West Sussex. The boys returned to Athelney Road school, queueing for rations, chopping wood, doing paper rounds and generally living off their wits. "Golf balls were scarce so we'd nick them off the fairway, run round the clubhouse and sell 'em back to grateful members for a tanner," said Cooper, who later became a chairman of the Variety Club golf section

Appointed OBE in 1969, Cooper was voted BBC sports personality of the year in 1967 and 1970. He made no great fortune out of boxing. His decision to retire was already established before his last fight, against Bugner in July 1971. Modestly comfortable, he still needed to auction off his Lonsdale belts after the collapse of a Lloyd's of London syndicate lost him a huge lump of his savings. The Canterbury auction made only £40,000 where £100,000 was expected. He collaborated on books, including one with me in 1972, a taped and edited life story that succeeded David Niven's The Moon's a Balloon as a paperback bestseller, at 40p a copy.

For three years, Cooper chaired a team in the BBC's Question of Sport quizshow, his knowledge of sport proving encyclopedic. Advertisers homed in. For Brut, he would become associated with aftershave, for the NHS, he was a face to encourage flu jabs for the elderly. His charity work included raising funds for more than 100 Sunshine coaches for children who were ill or had disabilities.

Our 'Enry was a fantastic boxer, a national treasure but more than anything a top bloke.

Daily Telegraph: A farewell to a true British working class hero.
That punch: You Tube.