Beautiful Brutality: Bare-Knuckle Boxing in West Yorkshire

The writer was one of about five hundred people gathered in a field on a West Yorkshire farm one late summer Saturday to watch a dozen bare-knuckle boxing bouts take place in a hay bale pit. The weather was fortunately kind to us and the twenty-four bare-chested men, the youngest twenty-one, who had been training intensively to put on a show which would demonstrate their courage, commitment, skill and ferocity and help establish bare-knuckle boxing as a combat sport capable of providing the same quality of entertainment in as positive, friendly and fighter-safe an environment as any other fight sport.

The event, Fight Fest Five, was organised by Spartan Wars Fight Club, the brainchild of Cheshire bare-knuckle boxing promoter and former amateur boxer Christian Roberts. ‘We set it up in 2017 and are proud that Spartan Warz is becoming known worldwide. We started after hearing of the fatal stabbing of a boy of fourteen in London. I knew immediately that I’d do whatever possible to create a ‘gloves up, knives down’ approach to allow young men to settle differences in a controlled environment, what you might call the old school way, rather than destroying lives, both of victim and perpetrator. We currently hold five shows a year across the North and plan on growing the promotion to hold up to twenty-four annually throughout the country.’

“It’s the most brutal and action-packed sport there is, and fighting in the hay bale adds to its raw appeal.”

Nathan McAdam, 21, travelled from Cumbria to secure victory in his bout with Allan Halbert. ‘I’m a placid lad who never causes trouble, but I fell in love with bare-knuckle boxing. It’s the most brutal and action-packed sport there is, and fighting in the hay bale adds to its raw appeal. I won the Spartan strawweight title and hope to move on to bigger and better things.’ Yorkshire fighter Adi Doherty, who secured the Spartan British Lightweight belt in what he described as a ‘redemption rematch’ with John Carmody, was forthright. ‘This sport keeps my head sane. It keeps me off the streets. It’s therapy.’

Roberts is emphatic that the events are ‘as safe as any boxing show anywhere. We’ve never had any crowd trouble. The fighter selection and matching process is based on fight history, weight and good winning records. Our standard fights consist of three two-minute rounds, with title fights lasting five rounds. All shows have experienced medical teams, and referees know how to keep each fighter as safe as possible and on top of any injuries. These are always followed up post-fight.’ Referee Dean Lister agrees. ‘My job is to look after the fighters’ safety, not please them or the crowd. I must make instant decisions, and it’s a skill that I’ve honed over the years. The pit is small, and sometimes I’ve been hit, too. Inadvertently.’

Fitness instructor Tom Gallagher made his way by train and taxi to win his lightweight bout with veteran fighter Phil Hammond. ‘I’m proud of my performance,’ said Gallagher, ‘I caught him with a lucky right-hand shot. I love the concept of fighting in the pit and the closeness of the combat, at most five square metres, with the two fighters and the referee. You just get on with it and pray. This is my sixth win. There’s no dislike between fighters. Just respect. People might be surprised, but the bare-knuckle world can be like a family. For me, it’s all about building confidence and improving my self-worth. I’m just self-taught. I’ve had lots of gloved boxing matches. Won some. Lost others. Bare knuckle is hard. Sometimes, I’ve given up because it’s just too painful, but I’ve stiffened my resolve the last few days and been determined to fight back.’

Like many young men, Gallagher praises the lasting friendships made in the bare-knuckle and boxing community. ‘It’s not what people think. If you’re not involved, it’s hard to comprehend the deep comradeship between fighters who’ll help each other no end but are prepared to inflict pain and injury in the bouts. People like Nathan Aldus, Liam Rowbotham and Tommy Galbraith who are sadly no longer with us. Bare-knuckle boxing has helped me cope with my anhedonia, which, in a nutshell, prevents a person from taking pleasure in social activities. The bare-knuckle world provides my therapy.’

Roberts is keen to stress how proactive Spartan is about mental health. ‘Many of our boxers find the sport helps them get through rough times as the training and routine involved in the run-up to shows keeps them focused and level-headed, and the bouts are therapeutic and confidence-building. These are men determined to be better versions of themselves and become role models in their communities. We currently hold five shows annually across the North and plan to hold up to twenty-four annually throughout the country. We’re proactive about mental health. We aim for the sport to appeal to a wider audience with a new documentary from VICE about to be released. We hope people will understand better what bare-knuckle fighting, the original style of boxing before gloved, is all about so that it is generally viewed more positively.’

It was an altogether slicker and glitzier affair a couple of months later when Leeds bare-knuckle boxer Scott McHugh realised his ambition of fighting in front of a large Yorkshire crowd when he headlined The Leeds Brawl at the city’s John Charles Centre one October Saturday.  Although the show ended in defeat for local hero McHugh at the fists of undefeated Welshman Liam Rees, none of the fifteen hundred attending disagreed that they’d witnessed twelve bouts of sheer raw physical courage culminating in Rees winning the prestigious BYB Police Gazette Super Welterweight Title belt.

Earlier this year, McHugh was inducted into the bare-knuckle Hall of Fame. ‘I’m made for bare-knuckle,’ said McHugh, who organises Leeds boxing shows and has been training with Al Osta at his Ultra Flex gym in Farsley for about eighteen months. ‘Al has instilled greater confidence in me because of our confidence in each other,’ said McHugh, ‘our relationship is professional but built on personal friendship and respect.

A trigon was originally an oriental harp and is the name of a demonic comic supervillain. It’s also the three-sided ring in which Leeds hero McHugh faced former UFC fighter Desmond Green in Florida two years ago. McHugh lost by third-round stoppage and suffered an eye socket injury. If anything, the injury provided encouragement to improve.

“I’d enjoyed the testosterone-fuelled atmosphere of hard men fighting bare knuckle in hay bales but recognised that to grow the sport, it needed to become more family-friendly and care better for the boxers while casting off its dubious image.”

The Leeds show was organised by leading Anglo-American promoter BYB, which was originally set up in set up in 2014 as BKB by Jim Freeman Dove, now 47. ‘I’d enjoyed the testosterone-fuelled atmosphere of hard men fighting bare knuckle in hay bales but recognised that to grow the sport, it needed to become more family-friendly and care better for the boxers while casting off its dubious image. Hence, BKB was born, becoming BYB in 2022,’ explained Dove. ‘There was no specific blueprint, but we’ve made it a professional outfit. We’ve had no serious injuries in a hundred shows, and our duty of care to the fighters is foremost. You’ll find highly experienced referees and the most qualified medical staff at our events.’

‘Bare knuckle is gladiatorial and appears more dangerous than gloved boxing, with injuries such as lacerations being much more dramatic, and some fights can be a bloodbath. However, fights are relatively short, thus reducing head trauma. Few bouts go the full distance, which is a maximum of five two-minute rounds. Many fighters have appeared in up to thirty shows and, from the outset, are earning more and getting better promotion, with challenging fights than comparable novice gloved boxers. Knowing they’re professional athletes on professional shows enhances their commitment to BYB and helps them lead a balanced life.’

McHugh’s opponent, Liam Rees, 30, hails from Swansea and, like McHugh, has two young children and runs his own building company.  ‘Winning this world title belt is the best thing that’s ever happened to me in the sport. I was the underdog. I came to McHugh’s home city to fight the best. I can’t be underestimated anymore. I’m hoping this leads to lucrative fights in North America and more title belts coming to Wales.’

Two minutes into what was scheduled as six three-minute rounds, Rees had been cut under his left eye, and blood dripped from his opponent’s nose. By the end of round two, the Welsh boxer’s face was swollen and bloody, with the crowd shouting ecstatically for McHugh, the home fighter. Bare-knuckle can turn on one punch,’ explained Rees. ‘Shortly into the third, I sent him to the canvas as I countered Scott with what turned out to be an excellently placed right-hand punch. He didn’t make the count. My supporters went mad.’

Barely ten minutes later, their bloody faces cleaned, Rees and McHugh were discussing the fight like they’d just played tennis or snooker. ‘There’s no animosity,’ maintained Rees. ‘Scott deserves his place in the Bare-Knuckle Hall of Fame, and I hope to join him there. Sharing the bare-knuckle trigon, our boxing ring, was an honour with Scott. Neither of us was unscathed. It was an intense, positive, and exhilarating experience for both of us and hopefully, it was exciting and enthralling for the audience.’

Now world champion, Swansea, born Rees, is 30, lives with his wife, two young children, and teenage niece, and runs his own building and home improvements company. ‘I’ve had dark periods in my life and struggled with addiction. Bare-knuckle fighting has set me free. For me, it’s the best therapy. I now intend to be a world champion. Get to America and take on some of their tasty fighters.’

Promoters and proponents of bare-knuckle boxing claim that it is the world’s fastest-growing combat sport and that a more professional approach centred on career for the fighters has created what is now a jealously guarded and much-vaunted respectability, allowing some fighters at least to realise their dreams. What is certainly true is that the physical courage, ambition and honesty of the fighters has made many a convert to a sport in which bravery shown in battle makes brutal brutality beautiful.

NorthernLife Dec/Jan/Feb 24/25