Kevin Finnegan

Kevin Finnegan was one of those British middleweights of the 1970s who could box, fight, and, crucially, keep turning up when the matchmaking got unforgiving. Born on 18 April 1948 in Iver Heath, Buckinghamshire, he boxed orthodox at around 5ft 9in and made his home in Cowley, Oxfordshire. He came from a fighting household, his older brother was Chris Finnegan, the 1968 Olympic middleweight champion, and Kevin’s own amateur years carried a sharp-edged footnote, he was banned for 18 months after climbing into the ring to protest a decision involving his brother. By the time he was a professional, the reputation was set, proud, competitive, and not inclined to accept anything quietly.

Finnegan turned professional on 23 November 1970, starting in the hard-lit London circuit where careers were built in hotel ballrooms and clubs before they ever saw a television camera. His debut came at the Anglo-American Sporting Club in Mayfair, where he stopped Billy Deasy in the fourth. Those early years show a familiar British pattern, steady rounds, frequent outings, and gradual escalation through eliminators and regional honours. By January 1973 he was winning a 12-rounder over Pat McCann at the Hilton Hotel in Mayfair for the BBBofC Southern Area title, and the venues in his ledger, York Hall, the Royal Albert Hall, the Empire Pool, read like a map of the sport’s domestic trade routes. He wasn’t being moved like a protected prospect, he was being used, tested, and asked to learn on the job.

The leap from sturdy contender to champion came quickly once he reached maturity. On 11 February 1974, at the Hilton in Mayfair, he outpointed Bunny Sterling over 15 rounds to win the British middleweight title, edging it on the referee’s card. Just over three months later, he went to Paris and produced what many obituarists still point to as his standout victory, a 15-round unanimous decision over Jean-Claude Bouttier at Stade Roland Garros to take the European (EBU) middleweight championship. That sequence tells you plenty about Finnegan’s engine and his appetite for the long shift, fifteen-round fights in two different countries within the space of a season, and it also tells you how British boxing operated then, win the Lonsdale Belt at home, and you were soon shipped abroad for the continental prize.

From there, the story becomes a series of demanding assignments rather than careful building. He lost the European title to Gratien Tonna in Monaco in May 1975, then stepped straight into a trilogy with Alan Minter that defined his British career. The first meeting, for the vacant British title at the Empire Pool in November 1975, went against him on points over 15. Minter beat him again at the Royal Albert Hall in September 1976, again over the full championship distance. Finnegan did what seasoned professionals are supposed to do, he rebuilt without drama, and in May 1977 he won the British title back by stopping Frankie Lucas in the 11th at the Albert Hall. Then came the third Minter fight at Wembley in November 1977, and it was as tight as the rivalry deserved, Finnegan losing by a single point, 144 to 143, after another 15 rounds. Three title fights, three defeats, all of them close enough to leave an argument simmering in the corners of British boxing for years.

If the Minter fights were British boxing’s old grindstone, the two bouts with Marvin Hagler were something else, brutal examinations that travelled well beyond the domestic scene. Finnegan went to the Boston Garden in March 1978 and was stopped after a fight in which cuts became the story as much as punches, the rematch, back at the Garden in May, ended earlier, his corner halting matters with his face damaged again. Officially, both went down as technical knockouts, and Hagler, who would go on to be the undisputed world champion, later described Finnegan as the toughest opponent he had ever faced. In the middle of that hard run, he also met Ayub Kalule in Copenhagen and lost a clear points decision, and he later travelled to Johannesburg where Charlie Weir stopped him. Look at that list and you see the recurring theme of Finnegan’s career, he didn’t merely share a ring with good fighters, he kept running into men who were, or would become, world-class.

Yet he still found a way to finish as a champion. In November 1979 he outpointed Tony Sibson over 15 rounds at the Royal Albert Hall to win the British title for a third time, and early in 1980 he reclaimed the European championship by beating Tonna in Paris. A draw with Georg Steinherr in Munich followed, then the last act, September 1980 in Sanremo, where Matteo Salvemini took the European title on points, bringing Finnegan’s professional career to a close with a record of 35 wins, 11 losses and 1 draw across 47 fights. In retirement he was widely noted as a serious painter, his artistic work was recognised well beyond boxing circles, and his later years became quieter. Finnegan died on 23 October 2008 in Hillingdon, London, aged 60, with reports describing heart disease and a death discovered after concern was raised when he had not been seen. In the end, the boxing record is impressive enough, British champion three times, European champion twice, but it is the pattern of his nights’ work that stamps him for historians, the man repeatedly matched at the right level, often above it, and never found wanting for backbone.