Finally, Ricky Hatton has his happy ending

There is a recurring sentiment in the new documentary about Ricky Hatton, one of the most successful and beloved boxers that Britain has ever produced: It is the feeling that Hatton deserved a ‘happy ending’, but that it eluded him. In fact, one of the most poignant lines is one of the first in Hatton, and it is delivered by the 44-year-old himself: “I was a world champion four times over, but I consider myself a failure. It wasn’t supposed to end this way.”

For a long time, that is how the former super-lightweight and welterweight champion saw himself. Sat in his kitchen, speaking to The Independent over Zoom, Hatton reflects: “When I had to retire, I’d split up with my missus, I’d fallen out with my trainer who’d been my best mate from day one, fell out with my mum and dad, had no boxing. I thought to myself: ‘I worked so hard for all that? Who am I celebrating it with? Who am I sharing it with?’”

For Hatton, the negatives always seemed to smother the positives. Never mind the numerous world titles, the triumphant night at Manchester City’s stadium, or the adulation of thousands; Hatton’s defeats by Floyd Mayweather and Manny Pacquiao ate away at a man who admits he was vulnerable from day one. And retirement only exacerbated the trend of using alcohol to cope, while drugs became another crutch.

“That’s when it went into overdrive,” Hatton says of his mental-health struggles, upon the release of the new Sky documentary, directed by Dan Dewsbury and produced by Noah Media Group. “But it started from day one, I think; I used to get paranoid. I had nine fights in my first year as a pro, so I was in the gym all the time, and I hadn’t seen any of my mates. They were saying, ‘Saw you on the TV. Superstar now, aren’t you?’ And I thought: ‘They think I’ve got too big for my boots.’ They were proud of me, they loved me, but in my mind... And when Mayweather knocked me out – when I’d told people, ‘Put your house on [me winning]’ – I couldn’t leave the house. I felt so embarrassed. I cancelled all my appointments, functions, everything. When I did finally leave the house, I was walking down the street and thinking: ‘Everyone’s laughing at me.’”

Hatton’s mental health is a huge part of the documentary, and he speaks with remarkable honesty about the darkest depths a person can reach, where he resided for a long time. “My family knew I was poorly, but I don’t think they knew how poorly I was, because I kept it from them,” he says. “If you’re crying every night like I was, you’re not gonna walk into your local pub – even as someone with good mates – and say: ‘Listen, lads, can I share something with you?’ My girlfriend at the time, she’d come through the door and I’d wipe the tears away. ‘Hiya, love. You alright?’ I didn’t want to go to my mum and dad and say: ‘I really don’t know what to do here.’

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“I think my ex-girlfriend, my coach, my mum and dad, my friends and family... their jaws will hit the floor when they see the documentary, because I hid it from them.”

Athletes are often positioned as ambassadors for dealing with issues like depression, if they speak openly about their own struggles. Sometimes that responsibility is too much, but Hatton embraces it. “We wanted to make a big point of the mental-health side of things [in the film],” he insists. “We don’t just want boxing fans to watch this, we want everyone to watch it. It goes beyond boxing. I’ve never bull-s***ed, I’ve always been dead honest, and I think I can’t be any more honest than I was in this documentary.

“I want to help people who have been in the same position I was in, and to tell them they can get through it. Go and speak to someone professional. Ladies are probably a bit more likely to discuss it with friends than lads are, but [either way], you keep it to yourself. But your loved ones will be a damn sight more worried if something happens to you than if you tell them [how you feel]. If my son came to me, I’d be devastated, but we could do something to help him.”

By opening up, Hatton finally arrived at the happy ending that boxing could not give him.

“It did end that way to be honest, mate,” he says. “When I look at myself today, if I’d have took my life, I wouldn’t have seen Campbell go professional, I wouldn’t have seen my granddaughter, I wouldn’t have seen my girls grow up. I’d love to be carrying a world-title belt and hear 40,000 people sing, ‘There’s only one Ricky Hatton,’ but them days are gone.

“But because of some of the things I’m enjoying now, which I nearly didn’t, it was a happy ending.”

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Hatton is available to watch on Sky Documentaries and NOW.

If you are experiencing feelings of distress, or are struggling to cope, you can speak to the Samaritans, in confidence, on 116 123 (UK and ROI), email jo@samaritans.org, or visit the Samaritans website to find details of your nearest branch. If you are based in the USA, and you or someone you know needs mental health assistance right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Helpline on 1-800-273-TALK (8255). This is a free, confidential crisis hotline that is available to everyone 24 hours a day, seven days a week. If you are in another country, you can go to www.befrienders.org to find a helpline near you.