Published: 9 November, 2012
by TONY DALLAS

After his successful stint writing our Crow, Spurs fan Tony Dallas (above) returns in a regular column casting his eye over sport’s burning issues. With more than 20 years working as a sports development officer, he knows what he’s talking about.

ONCE upon a time, long ago, I was invited to box in a gym. I’d watched and mimicked the greats like Muhammad Ali, Sugar Ray Leonard and Marvelous Marvin Hagler, and I’d played competitive sports like football, cricket, basketball and rugby.

I’d also run sprints and middle distances for school, clubs and county and even made it through a couple of gruelling cross-country competitions, so how hard could boxing be?

Well let me tell you, it was the most lung-busting, strength-sapping, excruciating sport I’d ever done and I wasn’t even getting hit! For those of you who’ve done it as an exercise regime, you know that a three-minute round can make you light-headed and nauseous.

So imagine my surprise when it was announced that ex-cricketer, Andrew “Freddie” Flintoff has been granted a licence by the British Boxing Board of Control. There’s no doubting Freddie’s love for the proverbial fight but that’s usually with a bat or a ball in his hand.

He’s being trained by Irish boxing legend Barry McGuigan and I admire his get-up-and-go attitude but worry about the board’s wisdom. Freddie is 34 years of age. How long has he trained for?

How many hours has he spent in a gym perfecting the art? Because boxing is an art!

They’re seemingly taking celebrity over safety and for a sport that has tried very hard to clean up its image, that’s not a good look. I can’t fathom what being hit by someone who knows how to hit is like. I believe if you’re a fish and your name isn’t Nemo, you stay in the water.

• MEANWHILE can anyone understand why Mo Farah hasn’t been selected for the IAAF Award? This man has spawned a new dance, the “Mobot”, glued a whole nation to the edge of their seats and won two gold medals in a home Olympics. That should’ve been enough to get him selected. At the end of the day who’ll remember that he wasn’t chosen? I won’t. Who can remember the person placed second in the 5,000 or 10,000 metres? I can’t. What I can and will remember is his smiling, pregnant wife, his daughter running onto the track to hug him and the look of sheer delight that engulfed his face and made a whole country blush with pride.

Would you have licensed Freddie?
Tell us what you think – at sports@camdennewjournal.com