Amir Khan, Britain’s brightest young boxing hope, is the new Commonwealth lightweight champion. The Bolton destroyer stormed to victory against gritty Scotsman Willie Limond in a stirring fight at London's newly-opened O2 Arena on Saturday night.

Khan, 20,  strung together his body shots, carefully wore down his canny opponent and then stopped the battle in the eighth round. He had bounced into the ring with all the confidence of a former Olympic hero. Three years ago in Sydney, he burst onto the lightweight scene with an electrifying amateur debut.

Since then, of course, he has become the best thing since sliced bread. Sport offers no more compelling sight than a boxer with a sense of destiny. Ever since he was a child you suspect that Khan lived, ate and breathed boxing. Here was a man who was groomed to be a champion.

'Ever since he was a child you suspect that Khan lived, ate and breathed boxing. Here was a man who was groomed to be a champion'


Now there are some who would say that boxing is just organised violence, a brutal and bloody sport that should have been banned years ago. When two muscle-bound boxers jump into a ring it must surely be the last bastion of male virility.

How, they say, can there be anything thrilling about two grown-up blokes knocking seven bells out of each other? Over the years there have been frequent calls for boxing’s abolition.

Personally, though, there is a primitive savagery about the prize fight that sets the adrenaline pumping. Few would deny that it remains a wicked and ugly spectacle where the protagonists can end up in hospital.

But for every fighter that ends up in intensive care there are still those who make a healthy and lucrative living. The likes of Alan Minter, Ken Buchanan, John H. Stracey all passed through British amateur ranks. All have survived to tell another tale.

The bottom line is that boxing is an essentially hurtful and murderous trade. At times it must surely be one of the most horrific of sporting sights and as Khan packed in his most lethal body shots and combination right hooks you almost winced with pain.

The moral brigade would tell us that boxers should confine their aggression to the bike sheds, that sport should be above blood, guts and long-term injury. Try telling that to guys like Frank Bruno, John Conteh and Charlie Magri, for whom boxing was an art form and money in the bank.

Amir Khan, it has to be said, was not at his most convincing against Limond. In fact, on any other night the belligerent Limond may well have flattened Khan. He had plenty of experience on his side but couldn’t finish off the Bolton bruiser.

Nonetheless, there is something cold-blooded and offensive about the fist fight that leaves you speechless. When heavyweight legends Muhammad Ali, George Foreman and Joe Frazier were battering each other senseless, boxing became a pleasure rather than a chore.

Now outrageous promoters such as Don King are just a page in the history books. Boxing has been carved up into meaningless title fights, more weight divisions than you can possibly imagine and few household names. Amir Khan may be the sportsman Britain has been waiting for.