Mourners gather as Ricky Hatton funeral procession begins in Manchester4 days ago7 min read999 comments

Under a sky the colour of bruised granite, a river of humanity began to flow through the streets of Manchester, a silent, solemn procession of shared grief and profound respect for a man who was so much more than a boxer. The news of Ricky Hatton’s death at just 46 had landed not like a single, sharp blow, but as a deep, resonant ache across a city and a sporting world that had claimed him as their own, and today, as his funeral cortege began its journey from the Cheshire Cheese pub in Hyde—a starting point steeped in the local camaraderie he embodied—the true measure of his impact was made visible in the thousands of faces lining the route, a tapestry of everyday people, family, friends, and the stars of a sporting fraternity united in loss.To understand the depth of this collective mourning is to look beyond the record of 45 wins and 32 knockouts, beyond the world titles at light-welterweight and welterweight that cemented his legacy in the annals of boxing; it is to see ‘The Pride of Hyde’, a title earned not in a Las Vegas ring but on the Hattersley council estate where he was forged, a fighter whose everyman persona, his vulnerability in both victory and devastating defeat, made him a mirror for the dreams and struggles of his supporters. He wasn't a distant, untouchable athlete; he was the bloke from the pub, the die-hard Manchester City fan whose passion for his club was as fierce as his left hook to the body, a man who carried the hopes of a city on his shoulders with a relatable, often heavy, grace.The journey to Manchester Cathedral, where the service would be held at midday, was more than a funeral procession; it was a final, communal act of celebration for a life that taught us about the raw, unvarnished human spirit in sports—the exhilarating highs of his epic victories over Kostya Tszyu and José Luis Castillo, and the crushing, public lows of his losses to legends like Floyd Mayweather and Manny Pacquiao, battles where his courage in the face of superior artistry was itself a kind of victory. In those moments, Hatton showed us that true strength isn't about being invincible; it's about getting up, time and again, with your heart on your sleeve, a lesson in resilience that resonates far beyond the ropes of a boxing ring.As the mourners gathered, their quiet conversations surely punctuated by memories of his relentless, pressure-fighting style and his infectious, gap-toothed grin, one could feel the indelible mark he left—not just as a champion, but as a symbol of perseverance, a testament to the idea that our greatest battles are often fought not for belts or glory, but for the respect of those who watch us, and for the love of the place we call home. His legacy, therefore, is not sealed in a trophy case, but lives on in the heart of Manchester, a permanent reminder that the most enduring victories are those won in the spirit, and that a life lived with such passionate intensity, even if cut tragically short, burns with a light that long outlasts the final bell.