Boxing legend Ken Buchanan became a joiner after expensive divorce before tragically dying in a care home
WHEN the sublime Ken Buchanan fell on financial hard times thanks to an expensive divorce and failed business ventures, he turned to his old trade as a joiner.
Well into his fifties, he was working on a luxury housing development outside of Glasgow.
Ken was sitting on a pile of bricks having a lunch break with a group of bricklayers when he was approached by a man who came out of the show house clutching a brochure.
Believing he recognised the elderly fella drinking his mug of tea, he asked: “Are you Ken Buchanan?”
Finding he was correct, he said: “Mr Buchanan, I’ve been one of your greatest admirers and I’m honoured to shake your hand. Would you sign my brochure?”
As the happy fan left with Ken’s signature, one awestruck young workmate said: “F*** me, Kenny — you must be some joiner.”
I’ve no idea how good a master joiner Ken was but, covering many of his big fights in the 1960s and ’70s I do know he was a master in the ring.
Ken, 77, suffered from dementia and died in a care home last weekend.
And with due respect to Benny Lynch, Walter McGowan and Josh Taylor, he was undeniably Scotland’s greatest-ever fighter.
Pound-for-pound he was one of the three best British fighters I’ve seen in my near 60 years as a boxing writer.
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John Conteh and Joe Calzaghe are the others.
It was a privilege to watch his virtuoso displays which led him to become the undisputed world lightweight champion. In his tartan shorts, he looked straight out of a boxing textbook.
With a left jab made in heaven he was all grace, speed and accuracy — never wasting a punch.
Ken won his first world title against all the odds, beating Panamanian Ismael Laguna in the blazing heat of a Puerto Rican open-air stadium.
The Americans were so impressed he ended up headlining five times at Madison Square Garden.
The hard-to-please New York crowd loved him. On his first starring appearance there against Canada’s Donato Paduano in a non-title contest, Muhammad Ali — having a comeback fight with Oscar Bonavena — was on his undercard.
Ken delighted in telling the story of how Angelo Dundee, Ali’s trainer, asked him if he would let The Greatest share his dressing room as he hadn’t been allocated one.
He couldn’t agree fast enough but, when Ali arrived, Ken drew an imaginary line down the room and told him, “Don’t cross that line or there will be trouble.” Ali thought it was hilarious.
Not one of Ken’s 69 fights was at home in Edinburgh — only fighting in Scotland four times in a 17-year career.
So, just how good was he? When Mike Tyson met Lou Savarese in Glasgow 23 years ago — Savarese lasted 38 seconds — I told him Ken would be at the weigh-in.
He lit up and said: “Please introduce me — he is one of my heroes.”
I did and he took Ken to his suite, where they talked boxing for hours.
Kobe Bryant, the late basketball star, was right about sporting giants like Ken Buchanan, when he said: “Heroes come and go but legends are forever.”