King of the ring

by BILL HAGERTY
ON JANUARY 13. 1960, the Daily Herald (now the Sun) warned that the boxing career of Henry Cooper, then wearing his new British heavyweight championship belt with the fire and enthusiasm of all young men who see before them a whole world of opportunity, might be about to end.
A story tritely headlined "Will the Vatican K.O. Cooper?" reported: "The Roman Catholic Synod of the diocese of Rome, which meets later this month, is said to regard professional boxing as a brutal and dangerous sportand the Church Council is expected to ask all Roman Catholics not to take part in the fight business."
But it didn't. And today, almost eight years later, Henry Cooper is still heavyweight champion of Great Britain and what boxing continues to call the British Empire.
Only the Daily Herald has failed to beat the count.
At the time of the predicted "Vatican K.O.", Cooper was not a Catholic. He was however, receiving instruction and later that year he both entered the Church and married Italian-born Albina Genepri at St. Peter and St. Paul, Amwell Street, Clerkenwell, London, E.C.1, His career as a professional fighter is without parallel in British boxing. By beating Billy Walker in the sixth round at Wembley on November 7, he became the outright winner of another Lonsdale championship belt, awarded permanently only to boxers who successfully fight three times for a British title. It was 33
year-old Cooper's third such belt; nobody else has ever won more than two.
In 134 years as a professional he has boxed-50 times. And he has fought the best. He knocked down braggart Cassius Clay, then challenged for the American's world championship, only to lose on both occasions because of cuts around his eyes.
He hit many more ()Phis 50 opponents so hard with his left hook-spoken of respectfully and affectionately as `"Enery's 'ammer"-that they spent the ensuing ten seconds looking for their heads.
Throughout, he has retained a dignity rarely found in a sport which so often seems to be tailored for the racketeers, the sharpies, the burns.
"Boxing has been good to me," says Cooper, and so it has. He used to be a plasterer, and you can count the plasterers with a beautiful home in Wembley, a £6,000 Bentley and a taste for £60 suits and lunch at the Caprice on the fingers of a boxing glove.
Yet he remains unspoilt, a gentle, smiling cockney with shoulders as big as a house; "a lovely feller," as his manager, Jim Wicks-a round, Runyonesque figure, also a Catholic-describes him.
The Coopers attend Mass at St. Erconwald's, Wembley Park, That's Henry, Albina and sons Henry Marco a pupil at the Sisters of Jesus and Mary Convent, Willesden Green-and baby John Pietro.
"I try to go to church regu larly," says Henry, "although it's difficult sometimes when I'm training."
Financially secure for the rest of his life, and now too old to be a world force in a sport where only the youngest and strongest can survive, Cooper is reaching the end of his career. But there is talk of one final excursion into the pain and sweat business a challenge for the European title, held by the German Karl Mildenberger.
Then the man who has held Britain's heavyweight championship longer than any other in history will retire to his
Wembley greengrocery shop, and boxing will be the worse for his loss.
For as an example to youth, as the epitome of sportsmanship, Cooper has almost unconsciously exerted a gentlemanly influence which has softened boxing's rough edges, and those outside the sport, too. And that alone is a monumental achievement for someone who has earned his living by punching others on thenose.