To read part one click on this link: Colin Jones: Part One
 
Colin Jones was at his peak in 1982, the European title was now in his sights; a fight against the classy Hans-Henrick  Palm was arranged and Jones’s team had secured crucial home advantage. Unfortunately, Jones fell ill on the eve of the fight, his pallid appearance on the day of the contest forced manager Eddie Thomas to bring in a doctor and there was some bad news – Jones was suffering from Appendicitis.  Jones would have given anything, even his health, to fight; there was more than just a title at stake.
 
“I would have boxed had I got past the doctor,” said Jones when speaking to Britishboxers.co.uk. “I had just bought a new house and I needed the £17,000 we had signed up for at the time.  I would have boxed, yeah, why not, luckily, looking at it now, the doctor stepped in, and I was glad of that.  They only had to look at me to know what was wrong – I was yellow.”
 
Hand problems, the punchers burden, also hindered Jones, but he shrugged them off as “Part and parcel of the game.”  The fight with Palm was rescheduled, Jones had to travel to Denmark, home town advantage was gone, but Jones did not care, his pre-fight preparation was given a boost as welterweights could wear six ounce gloves back then.
 
“Yes I insisted on the six ounce gloves, there was a choice, eight or six ounces, although bag mitts would have been fine by me, but we took the six ounce gloves and knocked him out,” recalled the Welshman. “If I had been wearing eighteen ounce gloves he would have got the same treatment.”
 
It was Jones’ss night that night, he was at the very pinnacle of his game, Palm did not stand a chance, he was brushed aside in two rounds, as Jones talked about the fight there was the slightest hint of regret, he liked Palm.  “I think that was my night, every fighter gets one of those nights, if you are very lucky you get two,” he recalled.
 
“I would have given anybody in the world trouble that night.  He was a hell of a nice chap you know, Palm.  You don’t think about that at the time so you throw your shots, the ref could probably have saved him though.  I had caught him with a great shot initially – a left hook to the head [the shot put Palm down] put him in terrible trouble.  The ref should have saved him. 
 
“Palm never boxed after that, the poor bugger, he had trouble with his retinas, and if you see the tape you can see why he never boxed again.  He was a smashing guy.  I bumped into him in Denmark last year.  He is doing quite well, so good for him.”
 
Palm got up from the first left hook, only to be felled by right uppercut.  When he rose again, Jones ended the resistance with a trio of left uppercuts, knocking Palm’s head about with the shots.  For Jones the use of this punch is the sign of a serious finisher.
 
“That left uppercut is a bread and butter shot when someone is in no fit position to defend himself,” he said.  “It comes right through the guard and does the trick. We had read about Palm before the fight, and we had seen his record, he had beaten nine of our boys before that.  We thought it would be a bit more of a rough ride, but that was my night, unfortunately he had to be on the end of it.”
 
A boxer must yearn for another fight after putting a performance like that; a chance to jump back in and mine that rich vein of form.  Indeed, the Palm job was over too quickly for Jones’s liking.  He said: “It would have been nice fo everyone if I could have jumped int the ring again and fought someone else that night, wouldn’t it?  In the real world you have to go back to the gym, and get back on the grindstone.”
 
Jones’s British, Commonwealth and European title successes had brought him a number three ranking in the WBC top ten; the reward was an away-day date for the vacant title against the flashy Kronk fighter Milton McCrory. 
 
Jones ceded home advantage after Mickey Duff’s bid for the contest was dwarfed by a counter offer from McCrory’s promoter Don King, Colin recognised then, as he does now, that boxing is a business, and he had no fear about going away to Reno for his first world title shot.
 
“The way I looked at it – after we had the offer from Mickey Duff and the higher offer from King – was that I could hit him on the chin in Nevada or I could hit him on the chin in Wembley, with the same result,” declared Jones.  “I had no fear of going to fight anyone in
their own back garden.  I brought my own judges and referee – my fists.”
 
McCrory was cast from the Tommy Hearns mould, a physical replica of the ‘Motor City Cobra’, minus the devastating one-punch power of Hearns.  In Jones’s opinion, though, the only thing that can prepare you for a fight is the fight itself, to that end he never bothered seeking out tapes of McCrory.
 
“Never saw a tape of him, never.  That [getting tapes of fights] wasn’t the norm back then.  I decided that I would see what he (McCrory) had in the early rounds, have a word with Eddie and Gareth [between rounds] and take it from there.  If you speak to the boys from my day you will find that this was the case for most people.  I fancied the job but 12-rounds [the scheduled distance of th fight] are different than 15-rounds.  Give me 15-rounds and things might have been different.  Things weren’t meant to be.”
 
McCrory boxed beautifully at times in the middle rounds, only for Jones to land some big bombs.  In the ninth round Colin broke through with a clean left hook, McCrory was all at sea, it was like the Kirkland  Laing fights all over again.
 
“It probably looked like that from the outside, but when you are in the fight you don’t think about stuff like that, you don’t think about what round it is,” said Jones.  “I probably didn’t realise how much I had him going until I saw the tape afterwards.  I didn’t sense it in the fight itself and couldn’t explain to you why.  I normally could see the winning post and nail a guy.”
 
Still, McCrory’s early lead had been chipped away.  Milton recently claimed that this contest, and the rematch, hinged on the final rounds; McCrory rallied in rounds 10 and 12, and looked to have nicked it at the death, the judges differed, calling it a draw.  Jones also felt that the last round decided the fight.
 
He said: “Eddie told me that it was close so it was a typical last round, he had greater hand speed than myself and he used that, he used it well.”
 
The Reno crowd had taken to Jones, cheering him on throughout the fight, whilst, sporadically, booing the backwards movement of McCrory, a rematch was mandated.  Jones travelled to American for a second time, the fight was held in Las Vegas, in the afternoon, amid stifling 100 degrees heat.  Jones came out looking to, again, feel his way into the fight, only for a counter left hook to drop him at the end of the first round.  Jones shook his head when reminded of this.
 
“It was totally alien for me to be on the deck in the first round of a fight, or any round for that matter, because I’d never been down before,” he said.  “It was a new experience for me.  I remember looking at the corner.  Eddie told me to get up at eight or seven.  Ther was no danger of me being knocked out but I was now trying to make sure I didn’t get a conk on top of that one!
 
“I went back to the corner and sat down, Eddie asked me if I was Ok.  I told him that I was having trouble seeing, Eddie said, ‘Oh, you can’t see then, can you?  How the hell did you find your way back to the corner?’  That was the most compassion you got from Eddie, he just started sponging me down.”
 
“I will remember that for the rest of my life, you know, him saying, ‘Get your arms up, keep hitting him and keep plugging away’.  There was no need for a change in tactics.  I was a come forward fighter and had to keep on going.”
 
“I felt a bit more comfortable in the second fight to be honest.  I knew what was coming, these long, looping shots, and there was the same pattern.  I thought McCrory was flat in that second fight.  I think I had him going again in the seventh and ninth, he came out fresh as a daisy in the 10th.  Not many people had come back at me after a couple of tough rounds.”
 
Milton came on again as the fight progressed, making a final stanza stand, it was a carbon copy of the first contest, with a different outcome, McCrory was awarded the title on a split-decision, Jones’s dream had died, and there could be no excuses.
 
“Yeah, you hear a lot of people losing fights and saying things and it sounds like sour grapes,” admitted Jones.  “I made the choice to go to America for those fights, to be honest it was a case o such a big purse, or two, that I didn’t really have any option, so I took it.  I didn’t get the nod, and that was it.
 
“I had respect for him (McCrory) as a fighter.  I never spoke to him after the fight, but I met him when I went over to Las Vegas for the Barry McGuigan-Steve Cruz fight.  I spoke with Milton briefly for five-minutes in the casino and we said a few words in parting, we were still fighting so I didn’t like him back then, and he probably didn’t like me.  We could have fought a third time, so you had that in your mind.
 
“Wit that said I met him last November when we took four young lads to an amateur
tournament in Canada, it was a good little event.  Obviously I had
mellowed tenfold by then.  You have time to reflect on the two fights you
had, and we did that when we met up [Writer’s note: I asked Colin if they had
sat down and watched reruns of the fights together].  No, I had seen
enough of them by then.  Milton’s structure was deceiving.  I thought
he would crumble like a bag of bones, but he didn’t.”
 
King had secured more than home advantage when bidding for the fight, he made sure that
it took place in the afternoon.  Ironically
the sweltering heat seemed to hit McCrory harder than it hit Jones, who smiled
when asked about the hot sunlight.
 
“I thought he would be climatically more conditioned for the weather, more so than
a Celt, but that wasn’t the case.  I had great preparation for that fight,
a fortnight in Lake Tahoe and we dropped into Vegas for the last two weeks, training
at Johnny Taco’s gym.  It was the best I
had ever prepared, so I can’t say that it was the weather that beat me, I have
to say this it was the opponent himself.
 
He added: “Boxing is a long old track, I had been on it from the age of nine, and was now
24.  I felt that I had failed and would never get another crack; I thought
that I would just be fighting 10 rounders for a while.”
 
McCrory took over a pocket of British support for the McCrory fights.  Colin was a
paid up member of his local miners union, the miners were facing tough times,
and things would get worse.  However, the
miners scraped together the funds needed to support their hometown hero.  Jones’s
adventures were a welcome relief from the politics of the pits.
 
Jones told me that: “Me and my brothers had all been miners and they were suffering
hard times, a lot of them travelled to support me.  It cost about a
thousand pounds, which was a lot of money. 
I guess they thought that this type of thing doesn’t come around too
often, so they did everything they could to support me.  The majority of
people were miners in those trips [Thomas gave something back to the miners
when granting them half-price entry to Jones’s 1984 fight against Billy Parks].
 
“I was a digger in a graveyard and had been in the mines for two years.  Eddie had
a mine so I worked in that one for him.  People loved the gravedigger
angle.  They would have me standing in graveyards on top of a box and all
that nonsense.”
 
It is the norm in boxing for a losing boxer to switch things around, for Jones, though, there was no question of leaving Eddie Thomas, who had guided him from the start, and was a local man.  “No, leaving Eddie never crossed my mind,” explained Jones.
 
“I am a big believer in loyalty, which is something that is missing in sport in general these days.  I feel sad to see these lads without any loyalty.  After the title losses Frank [Warren] came along and got me two 10 rounders in 1984, and then got me the Don
Curry fight [in 1985].”
 
The first of those 10-round outings came against Allen Braswell.  Jones was greeted with a rousing standing
ovation, the Welsh crowd sang Hen Wlad fy Nhadau (Land of My Fathers) – it was
hair-raising stuff.  However, there was a softness about Jones in that
fight, he no longer looked like he had been hewn from rock.  Despite this,
Jones registered a second round KO win.
 
Still, that soft look was in Colin’s face, and eyes, for his next assignment, a fight
with US-based McCrory look-alike Billy Parks.  Jones, who, unusually for a
white boxer, had not been troubled by skin problems, suffered a terrible cut
alongside his right eye; courtesy of a left hook (ironically Parks had the
expert cutsman Mick “The Rub” Williams in his corner).  Parks led Jones a merry dance at times,
befuddling Colin with movement, then blasting through the Welshman’s guard, it
was a rough nights work but Jones had stopped his man in the 10th round, a pair
of right hands leaving Park on wobbly legs.
 
“That was a hard old fight that was,” marvelled Jones. 
“People thought Parks would crumble after five or six rounds but he was
a tough old cookie.  I picked up a couple of nasty cuts in that
fight.  I wasn’t in love with the game anymore by that point.  You
wake up in the morning, see the bad weather and think; ‘Another hour in bed’ – it
is your body’s way of telling you that you are no longer there.  I was
still prepping well but was showing the signs of a long time in the game
without a break.  They leave their mark,
those hard fights.  No fighter gets away with two tough fights like the
McCrory fights, it takes years to get the memory out of your system.”
 
Jones was once again on the cusp of a world title fight; with WBA/IBF boss Don Curry his
chief target.  In the meantime Jones needed to deal with the torn skin
around his eyes.  Jones sought out expert help after the Parks contest,
having his scar tissue worked on by a top plastic surgeon.
 
“Yes, that is true, they didn’t heal properly so I went to Harley Street to get the
scar tissue taken away, there was a lot of pink scar tissue and I wanted to
carry on for at least another year, so I assure you that it wasn’t cosmetic
surgery.”
 
You would naturally expect a boxer to worry about scar tissue after suffering cuts in his
last fight, for Jones, though, there was a bigger worry going into the Curry
contest, he was no longer in love with the sport.  He said: “I don’t think they (the cuts) affected
me or my approach.  I was tired with the game.  I got into great
shape for that Curry fight but it was a case of falling out of love with
something.  I had gone hard at it.  I had lived in the gym and had
loved living the sport, but unfortunately, by that point in my career, I had
fallen out of love with boxing.”
 
Hopes of a Jones win were based on Jones’s punching power, which was still top class,
and the whispers circulating about Curry’s struggles with scales.  Don
abstained from food for a full day during fight week, a cup of tea his only
sustenance.  Despite this Curry was every inch the budding superstar in
the fight itself.  Upon realising that
the ring was too soft for excessive moving and boxing the champion elected to
stand and fight.  Jones had suspected
that this may be the case.
 
“I knew about Curry, I had read about him, a good crisp combination hitter, but there
was nothing different about prepping for him,” he said.  “You never know what to expect on fight
night.  I knew he could move and throw class combinations but I knew he
couldn’t hurt me, and in that respect the cuts and the bruises I suffered were
just a nuisance – I wasn’t rocked or frozen.”
 
One of those cuts – a horizontal slash across the bridge of the nose of Jones – heralded
a critical moment in the fight, and Jones’s career, it was clear that Jones now
needed to score a knockout in order to win the world title, and, looking back,
the former fighter still feels that there was a tangible possibility of that
happening.
 
“Eddie told me it was a bad cut and that I had to make the most of the fight while it
lasted.  I still don’t think that Curry was a real mover, he stood and
traded with the best of them, and that was all right by me at that point. 
I didn’t know how bad the cut was until I saw it from the outside, and it was a
bad one wasn’t it.
 
“I think the cut itself was an accumulation of three or four punches [a left uppercut
followed by a few jabs].  The referee
said ‘Stop boxing’ in round four and the doctor stopped the fight.  I had a couple of stitches afterwards, and
that was it.”
 
Jones sagged into the ring post when told that his title bid was over, a shot of him
howling with frustration was voted one of the images of that sporting
year.  Jones was disappointment personified in the post-fight interview;
it was not just the loss that rankled.  It was the manner of the loss.  To lose without giving it his all was a cruel
experience for Jones.  Cut or no cut he
had wanted to fight to the finish, and he knew that his last chance for a world
title had slipped away.
 
“Oh yeah, I knew that was my last chance at the ultimate prize,” said Jones.  “I would never get another chance, so it just
came out all at once I imagine, all the frustration and disappointment.  I
think it was the frustration of still having so much left to give that got
me.  I was sad to lose my record of not being stopped.  There was obvious disappointment at the time,
but you soon get over it.”
 
Jones ran into a fighter, Curry, who was at the top of his game, at a time when his own
desire was on the wane, throw in the weakened skin and it was a big ask – one
that was beyond Jones at that point.
 
“Yes, that is a fair comment, and a fair way to look at it, it happens to all
fighters and no matter how hard you might train there has got to be losers, and
that was the end of the road for me.  I never looked back.  I continued on with my life.  I always look forward and have always been
involved with the game – more so now than ever.”
 
Jones was done with the sport at the tender age of 25, there would be no comeback, no
final fling, Jones went back home to the place where he had grown up, his
adventure was over.  He said: “I just did
what I had done all my life.  I enjoyed the working mans club, like my
fathers and brothers before me.  I had a normal life and a young
family.  I settled into a steady family life.
 
“I was like I was in my boxing, really, slow and steady.  I met my wife when we
were in school and stayed with her.  I had one amateur club.  I had
one trainer in Gareth Bevan.  One manager in Eddie Thomas.  I am just
an ordinary guy.”
 
When Jones retired he did what all former fighters do, he put his era into a bottle,
labelled it “golden” and then watched as boxing became awash with Mickey Mouse titles.  The aging fighter looked on as men with a
small percentage of his talent became champions all the while thinking, ‘I
could easily have won a title in this weakened field’.
 
“I think all us old fellas look at how it is now and think that,” said Jones.  “I would have been a liar if I said I had never looked and thought, ‘I could have handled him’ or ‘I could have done him’.  I don’t follow professional boxing as much as I used to.  I have lost all interest in the professiona game.  There are no big names in the game, and that is down to too many titles and governing bodies.
 
“I enjoyed watching Ken Buchanan from the age of nine through to 15.  I used
to take a lot of tips from watching Ken, but there is only one great fighter in
my eyes and that is The Greatest, Cassius Clay, he could fight a bit.  I
never tried to copy Ali, no, only one person could do all that.”
 
Finally, I had wanted to ask Jones about this “greatest British boxer to never win a
title” tag.  It could seem a backhanded
compliment, but I pressed on anyway, asking Jones if he was happy when people
gave him that title.
 
“I think that has been thrown about a bit,” answered Jones.  “I am not sure if it is a nice tag to have but unfortunately someone has to have it, so if people want to give me that tag I will accept it.”
 
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Courtesy of Rick Reeno and www.boxingscene.com