By Steve Bunce
The debate over Ryan Garcia’s mental health continues with no end in sight. Meanwhile, far from the millions of dollars and neon lights, many other fighters struggle with mental health. Garcia is just a role model for the wounded.
Anthony Phythian was broken, make no mistake. He had been banned from every football club in the country. He was also homeless, violent, addicted and sinking deeper and deeper into a dark hole. He had ballooned to nearly 20 stone and was ready to fight anyone and everyone on the pitch, in the street, in the pub, in the car park. Anywhere.
Last week in Bolton, Phythian was ringside watching his friend Macaulay McGowan in the fight of his life. McGowan had his own demons. It was a fight, not one for the faint of heart. At around 2am, Phythian sent me a photo of McGowan hugging his partner on ringside.
The message is simple and meaningful: “That’s all there is to it.” It’s a healthy fighter, surrounded by people who love him. He’s right, and poor Garcia could use some of that therapy.
By the time Phythian was 35, he had been refused a boxing licence by the British Boxing Board of Control. “I had no amateur experience and only a few white-collar fights. I knew I had to fight some amateur fights to achieve my dream,” Phythian told me in Bolton. His life on the terraces was behind him, a notorious legacy falling like a stone.
There are iconic photos of Phythian leading the charge, dressed in a white overall, on the field. He was charged with assaulting a police horse, among other things. Those were lost days in his life. “I needed to change, I needed to change.” He began to lose weight, began to think about becoming a professional boxer rather than one of the country’s most notorious thugs.
He had two amateur fights before Covid-19. He lost the first, won the second and re-applied. His goal was 10 fights, and he knew that was enough for the Council. Thankfully, he was accepted, he was a professional boxer. It was a new life – it was his salvation.
“I got my first ban in Bolton; it was in 2008,” he tells me. “When I was boxing here as a professional boxer, my manager, Kieran Farrell, said to me, ‘You’re fighting in a football stadium.’ I had to say to him, ‘This isn’t the first time.’”
There is no sugarcoating Phythian and the fairy tale is in the details rather than necessarily the facts and figures. His first game was at Bowlers in the summer of 2021 and he was paired with Ryan Hibbert. On paper, it made sense.
“I remember the locker room was full of people,” Phythian said. “Guys I had watched for years and knew; [Ant] Crolla walked in, Joe Gallagher was there. I sold 200 tickets and then I walked out – I could hear my name and all the lights were on. It was unbelievable.” He was a pro.
Just being there that night, wearing gloves, a licensed boxer, surrounded by Manchester boxing royalty, was an achievement. It was progress; he was seven stone lighter and an upstanding citizen. It was the badge of boxing. Phythian was 37 that night and had fought knockout after knockout. There would be another – he had been stopped in one round.
“It was tough, really tough, but I was living the dream and I had to keep going,” he said. He did, winning his next four fights. Phil Martin, the great Moss Side boxing saviour, used to talk about small changes, improvement in a fighter being the true measure of personal change. I think Phythian and Martin will work together.
Phythian joined a boxing class called Cleaner and Dryer. The club, as the name suggests, was founded after a friend committed suicide. Depression, addiction, death – it’s a common trifecta, don’t imagine it’s rare. Cleaner and Dryer has never had any boxers at the Haringey Box Cup last Sunday, but they could have some potential members in the ring five.
Free sessions and support for mental health and addiction through boxing. It’s not about words, it’s about actions. That might have been Phythian’s motto in his old life: now it is in his new one.
Last week in Bolton – he was there with his teenage son – his only anger was about paying for parking over the phone. He seemed at peace, his time in the ring clearly part of that process.
The winning streak ended at Bowlers. He had lost back-to-back, most recently in November. That was it, the boxing was over. He was 40 when he last danced, as he put it. “I had come off alcohol, drugs and suicidal thoughts – I was almost 20 stone; I was in a lot of trouble and then I became a professional boxer. It was a dream,” Phythian said on Friday night. He was right, by the way.
He ended up boxing and driving dump trucks in and out of construction sites. He did what he had to do in the ring, and it worked. Phythian also knew that all the darkest places were still out there somewhere. Garcia hoped to realize the same thing; he could do with a few anonymous sessions at the Cleaner and Dryer. He’d be in good company.
