Hylton: big puncher who faced the best
Working the doors…Hylton (left) with tough pro Rob Wada
THE savagery displayed in the epic Midlands cruiserweight tussle between Cordwell Hylton and John Foreman will live long among those present at the Grand Hotel, Birmingham.
I was one of the ringside witnesses to the December 5, 1994, brawl, a 10 rounder that could’ve been scripted for the Rocky film franchise. It was a truly astonishing, brutal battle. A forgotten thriller.
Both took heavy punches, both seemed on the verge of being stopped at various stages of the bout. One would totter across the ring on unsteady legs, only to roar back and hurl bombs.
Down the stretch, both men – close to exhaustion – simply stood in front of each other in ring centre and swung.
All semblance of boxing finesse had gone out of the window, replaced by a John Wayne bar room brawl.
At the end of the mayhem, challenger Foreman, from Birmingham, had prevailed 98-96-and-a-half on referee John Coyle’s card.
Neither Foreman or Hylton are now with us, both brave men died early.
Life for Hylton, from Walsall, spiralled tragically out of control after boxing. There was trouble with the law and incarceration before the 42-year-old took his own life in 2001.
I knew the man well and remain convinced a tough, 15 year, 72 fight career played a part in his slide into the darkness of depression.
The last time we spoke, his speech was slower, some words slurred. The likeable, amiable individual – a larger-than-life character – had become sullen and suspicious.
Yet in his pomp, Cordwell was a fun, larger-than-life character bestowed with a large Jamaican belly-laugh.
What a team of doormen…Hylton with pros Malcolm Davis and Wada
Hylton, who carried real knockout power, was matched tough. Very tough. He had talent, yet was thrown in at the deep end from the get-go.
His record reads like a “who’s who” of the era’s best domestic light-heavies, cruisers and heavies. The jobs against top heavyweights, in particular, appeared Mission Impossibles.
Zambian Chisanda Mutti, who would go on to face Evander Holyfield and twice fight for versions of the world cruiserweight title, stopped him in three in Germany.
Devon Bailey stopped him twice. British cruiser champ Andy Straughn outpointed Cordwell over eight. British light-heavy titleholder Tony Wilson knocked him out in five. World cruiser champ Johnny Nelson knocked him out in one. British and European light-heavyweight king Crawford Ashley knocked him out in three. Domestic cruiserweight titleholder Derek Angol won by fifth round stoppage. He was disqualified in the sixth against WBC light-heavyweight champ Louis Pergaud in Dusseldorf.
Add to the list of formidable opponents Bruce Scott, Rob Norton, Clifton Mitchell, Scott Welch, Tee Jay and world class Germans Henry Maske and Marcus Bott.
I find it hard to accept anyone would take those fights with the belief Cordwell could win. And any of the above fighters were capable of hurting Hylton.
He had the raw power – particularly in his sledgehammer right hand – to dramatically turn the tables, but not against those men.
When assessing his career, I’m left with a sense of what might have been had more confidence building, learning fights been included on his CV.
Cordwell showed how dangerous he could be when matched against unbeaten prospect Jimmy Peters at Southwark’s Elephant and Castle in 1990.
The bout was going as planned, with tall Peters picking up points from distance, until one clubbing right turned his legs to boiled spaghetti.
Cordwell officially prevailed by a cuts stoppage in the fourth, but Peters was badly hurt and in desperate trouble.
Did Hylton or those guiding him capitalise on that televised success? No.
A month later he faced muscled former British cruiser champ Tee Jay and was stopped in the first.
He had nights of glory, courtesy of the concussive power he brought into a ring. Cordwell could appear to “fall asleep” during contests, even appear to be going through the motions, but if he detonated one of those swinging shots, the other guy was in trouble.
He was the yardstick of champions. The boxers with real pedigree avoided the blows and made Hylton pay, the pretenders didn’t.
Former British champ Roy Smith was stopped in seven in 1991 for the Midlands cruiser crown. Hylton would lose it six months later, by a mere half-point margin, to Steve Lewsam.
The Black Country boxer regrouped, scored a fine third round stoppage over Jean Marie Emebe in France – one of 12 overseas assignments in his career – then, in 1994, regained the Midlands belt by halting Albert Call.
I travelled to Hull to watch that one. It was typical Hylton. He was second best, appeared sluggish, even disinterested, then found the pay-off punch in the fourth.
Cordwell Hylton
The stage was set for the brutal Foreman encounter.
Hylton retired following a sixth round loss to Wayne Buck, for the Midlands heavyweight title, in 1995. He had won 27 of 72, with two draws.
When considering his career, I’m left pondering what might have been if Hylton’s talents had been nurtured, if there had been a plotted course to the top.
Sadly, if there was a strategy, I couldn’t see it. I only saw paydays.