8 | SATURDAY | 30.04.22 | The Guardian
CUTTINGS
Flashback
Sports promoters
Barry Hearn and his
son Eddie look back at
the rivalry that
became a partnership
B
arry and Eddie Hearn
are the heavyweight
promoters and hype-
men responsible
for some of the
biggest moments in
sporting history. Dagenham -born
Barry rocketed the status of sports
such as snooker, poker, darts and
boxing, and is the founder of TV
promotion company Matchroom
Sport. Eddie, now chairman, found
his feet representing golfers, before
becoming the fi rst boxing promoter to
strike a $1bn streaming deal. Barry’s
autobiography, My Life: Knockouts,
Snookers, Bullseyes, Tight Lines and
Sweet Deals , is released on 28 April.Eddie
This is Dad and me sat in the study,
when I’m about 10. His work phone
would go off all night, and I’d
never intentionally listen but I was
subconsciously taking it in. I’d hear
a lot of arguments and raised voices,
questions about fi ghters, Eubank,
Bruno, Naseem. It was exciting. Now
I’m a carbon copy of Dad. Only with
a mobile, so there’s no escape.
Dad wasn’t around that much when
I was young; he was travelling a lot. I’d
always wait for him to come through
the front gates, and once we’d fi nish
dinner he’d take me outside to play
football or cricket for an hour. He was
ridiculously competitive and would
bowl full pelt. It wouldn’t matter what
we were doing, he would never let
me win. And now I don’t let my two
daughters win. The mindset in our
family is: you win when you deserve to
win. You never get given victory.
Dad was worried that I would be
a spoil t rich kid, the type he hated,
growing up. I was a bad teenager. At
the weekend I’d fl y around the world
with him, then be back to school on
Monday. I’d have teachers going on
at me and I’d be thinking, “I’ve just
been in New York with Frank Bruno
and you’re telling me off ?” That was
the wrong attitude. I felt this struggle
for my own identity: I was so proud
of being known as Barry Hearn’s son- but I eventually realised that’s all
I’d be, unless I worked hard and did
something spectacular.
Dad always said to me that when
I turned 18 we’d go to the boxing gym
and have a fi ght. By the time I was 16
I was nearly 6f t, and he said: “I think
we should do it now.” So we went to
a gym in Romford and sparred. It was
pretty violent. I hit him to the body,
and he couldn’t carry on in the second
Interview: Harriet Gibsone
Main portrait: Simon Webb
St yling: Lara Hargrave
round. It was embarrassing, but he
couldn’t have been happier. “My son!”
he said. “He ain’t no soft kid. He’s
one of us.”
When Dad had his fi rst heart attack,
he was 50. My grandad died at 45,
and his dad at 44, so it was worrying.
When we get to the hospital, he’s all
wired up, and the doctor asks: “Do you
smoke?” Dad had given up but was
always a bit of a crafty smoker, only
my mum didn’t know that. He says:
“Well, every now and then.” And she
goes: “You do what?” The monitor
starts fl ashing as his heart rate shoots
up. Then the doctor asks: “Are you on
any diet tablets?” Mum goes: “Look
at him! Does he look like he is?” And
Dad says: “Well, I was taking these
slimming tablets ... ” She went berserk!
It was hilarious. He had another heart
attack in 2020, but he’s already back
running marathons. I’m 42 now and
get my heart checked regularly.
These days we’re still competitive
but it’s all about business – how many
tickets you’ve sold, how much money
you’ve made. He’s also chasing me for
time rather than the other way around.
Yesterday he says to me: “How many
games of cricket are we going to play
this year? W ill we play golf next week ?”
and I go: “Well, Dad, I’ll have to see .”Barry
I was not a good dad. You have to be
selfi sh if you want to be successful,
and when Eddie was little I was still
making my mark. As time went on,
around the time this photo was taken,
I got better, spent more time with him.
It’s a posed call for the purpose of the
picture, but it’s the phone I’d be using
to speak to Don King or Bob Arum.
When my wife Susan ’s waters broke
with Eddie – one of the worst things
I’ve ever seen – I took her straight to
Epping Forest hospital at 9.30am. Her
previous labour with our daughter
Katie had taken 24 hours, so as far as
I was concerned I could drop her off
and still play snooker with this geezer
for £50 at 12pm. At 1pm the hospital
phones. A nurse says: “Your wife’s
in the fi nal stages of labour.” I reply:
“It’s one-all.” The girl says: “Sorry,
what does that mean?” I go: “I’m
playing snooker against this fella and
if it goes well, I’ll have the deciding
frame and I’ll be there as quickly as
I can.” Anyway, I win. I pot a lovely
pink down the rail and then drive like
a maniac back to the hospital. When
I arrive I see Susan on the trolley and
tell her: “Best of luck, girl.” She replies:
“Where’ve you been, you bastard?19 90
His work phone would go off all
night. I’d hear raised voices Eddie
GROOMING: NEUSA NEVES AT TERRI MANDUCA USING NARS. ARCHIVE IMAGE: COURTESY OF BARRY HEARN