Hamed every bit as strong in his mind as his body

Prince Naseem Hamed has always said that he wants to be a legend. Beating Steve Robinson at the end of September in Cardiff, and taking the World Boxing Organisation featherweight title from him, was merely another step in that direction.

He was in the gym in Winconbank the week before the fight with a T-shirt with "All I have to do is turn up" written on the back. Brendan Ingle, his trainer and manager, had forgotten his glasses. "What does that say?" he asked me. I read it to him. "The cheek of the lad. Some call it arrogance, I call it confidence."

But Naseem Hamed exudes more than confidence. There is this aura of self- belief bordering on invincibility emanating from him. I caught up with him in London, hanging out in Mayfair, a million miles from the family shop in Winconbank, Sheffield.

We talked, as we had many times, but this time away from all the pressures and distractions coming from within the gym or from outside. I wanted to attempt to unpick a few psychological threads from this great cloak he covers himself in, to get some hint as to what if anything lies below this heavy mantle of projected self-belief. What does it hide? Or is all this confidence and self-belief just layers of an onion, densely packed all the way to the core?

I began by asking him whether there were ever any doubts in his mind that he might lose to Steve Robinson.

"No, from day one I knew I was going to be in there with the perfect style. I knew basically that he was there to be taken by a flamboyant 21-year-old who was ambitious and strong at punching out. It was tailor- made for me and on the night of the fight I showed it. There was quite a bit of animosity in the crowd, somebody spat at me on the way to the ring, but I held my head up high. I just walked in there and took it off him."

So just how important was the psychological battle before the fight? When does the battle actually commence between two fighters? Is it the press conference? Or even before that? "I showed him in three or four press conferences before the fight that I was definitely there to take his title," Hamed said. "He made out that he was the strongest featherweight in the world and that he had boxed the likes of Colin McMillan. Everybody said that he was going to lose on other occasions, and he came back. But I wanted him to know that this time it would be different."

Did Robinson possess anything in his psychological armour to frighten Hamed at all? Was there anything that he could have done to intimidate him?

"There was nothing whatsoever he could have done. I knew that the only thing that Steve had was a good defence. A good fighter has to break that defence up and take him out. I controlled the fight, I dominated it. I was so happy, I was smiling, I was talking. I did everything I wanted to do.

What was he saying to him? "He turned round to me in past press conferences and said that he was the strongest featherweight in the world. I was telling him in the fight: 'You're not the strongest, Steve,' and hitting him so hard that he couldn't understand it. So mentally I was just breaking him up. Physically, it was happening at the same time and he just fell to pieces at the end of it. I caught him with one clean left hook which was the last shot of the fight. This shot was so perfectly timed that his legs just gave away."

John Ingle, who is Brendan Ingle's son, had told me that he could tell by looking at Steve Robinson at the weigh-in for the fight that he had already lost the psychological battle. I wanted to know if Hamed could sense that as well?

"I could sense it, all right. I'd seen the look in his eyes. But I also said to him: 'If we're both confident that we can beat each other, then we should put both purses in one pot and let the winner take all.' So Steve started thinking about this and he was mumbling a little bit but then he said: 'Well, I'll leave it to my manager' and I knew straight away that he'd gone. I didn't even have to look in his eyes after that."

But had he ever been frightened before a fight? "No, I've never been frightened before a fight. You should see me in the changing room beforehand - I pack it out with my friends, then slam some music on, whatever music I'm into - rag or jungle, swing or soul, hip-hop, rap, whatever it is, whatever my mood desires before the fight. We'll be having a great laugh and I mean a great laugh. I'm talking about laughing, giggling, cracking jokes. This is five minutes before the fight. As long as I've got bandaged up and oiled up, I'm happy and ready to go. As soon as they say: 'the television is ready, you're on', I become a different person. I'm blind to all the guys around me then and that's it, everything finishes. I'm ready to walk out and I'm ready to do the business. There is nothing else in my mind except to go out, blank everything out, get into that ring in style, and take an opponent apart in style."

If not before a fight, I wondered when was the last time he had been frightened of anything.

"To tell you the truth, I hardly ever get frightened as in 'frightened'. I could never say that fear really gets to me. I'm not one of those fighters like Nigel Benn who says: 'I thrive on fear'. I walk through fear. It's not one of those things that happens to me. I'm one of those very confident people who just forgets about fear, and gives it to somebody else. I get into that ring and I walk round, I hear my music and then I start buzzing.

"The music is very important. It's got to give me a buzz. It always does in my fights. At the Robinson fight, all the crowd were shouting for him. They were chanting: 'Hamed, Hamed, who the fuck is Hamed?' And I thought to myself, wicked, I can't believe this. They'll find out who Hamed is after the fight."

He then confessed that he had borrowed the idea of the tune for his entrance, Hot Steeper, and the front flip over the ropes from his best friend, Ryan Rhodes. These trademarks came from his younger acquaintance. If it was employed against him, what would he think? "Well, if somebody did it to me, I'd think: 'Well, that is a confident man, I just hope he can back it up.'"

Hamed has an obvious choice for the greatest fighter of all time. "Muhammad Ali. His style, his charisma, how he got on, how he became a national figure, a world figure, what he did to sport in general. Not just for boxing but for all sport. I think he's been a credit to sport, not just boxing. I think he's made sport what it is today."

The present day Ali, suffering from Parkinson's Disease, might well be an upsetting thought, then. If so, it is one Hamed can cope with. "Well, obviously it's sad what's happened to him. I do feel for him, but I can honestly say to myself that I know for a fact that his Parkinson's Disease never came from boxing. I think he got Parkinson's Disease because God gave it to him. I think what's written for a man is written. I think that it only happened to him just to show people that he was human, that he was the same as everybody else. So I reckon that it just written to him, from God."

So does he think that everything that had happened to him so far had been written by God? "Yes, definitely, I've got so much belief in God, and I think that God's got so much belief in me.

"The way I've been brought up I've had the best upbringing a child could have and I take my hat off to my mum and dad so much for the upbringing I've had. I am religious but I like always to keep my religion personal and private to myself. I think religion is a personal thing. But I think God has given me such a gift."

Naseem Hamed has never lost as a professional, though he did as an amateur. So what exactly happened?

"I lost about five or six times as an amateur but I could definitely say to myself that I never walked out of that ring a loser when I'd lost. I always knew in my heart that I'd won. I only lost because the judges didn't like my style and they went against me. I never really lost a fight as an amateur and the guys that I did lose to - when I boxed them again I beat them easy. But there was one lad who beat me and then retired at 12. I can't remember his name. I was only about 11. But I never stopped smiling. They couldn't understand it. They'd say: 'Why is he actually smiling when he's lost? Isn't there any way we can get this guy down.'

"This is what they were thinking. I'd be looking at them, knowing what they were thinking and I'd be smiling at them. I'd walk out of that ring smiling, because that was the best thing to do."

Because it would have been a sign of weakness not to? "Exactly. It would have been a sign of weakness. I knew that even at the age of 11. When I got back into the changing rooms I'd still be smiling and laughing because I knew that I'd won.

"It didn't really affect me in any way but it did dishearten a lot of kids, and a lot of kids retire because they were getting robbed in decisions."

I asked him how he might cope with defeat today.

"How would I cope with it? I would cope very well with it because I remember losing as an amateur. There are guys who lose and they're a flop after that. They can't take it. Mentally they can't be very strong. If I ever lost I'd just come straight back. I'd let nothing dishearten me. Remember I've been blessed by God. I walk through fear."

Geoffrey Beattie is professor of psychology at Manchester University. His series of interviews with leading sports personalities, Head to Head, begins with Naseem Hamed on Radio 5 Live tomorrow at 8.05pm.