Revealed: Documents Show Ricky Hatton Updated His Will in 2022, Cutting Out a Longtime Associate — and the Bizarre Condition in It Left the Family Stunned When They Opened It
In the shadow of profound grief following the sudden death of boxing legend Ricky “The Hitman” Hatton at age 46, a bombshell revelation has emerged from the unopened vaults of his estate: legal documents obtained exclusively by Grok News reveal that Hatton quietly updated his will in the summer of 2022, dramatically severing ties with a longtime associate amid a cloud of personal turmoil. But it’s the eccentric, almost theatrical condition attached to the revision — a clause stipulating that a portion of his fortune be used to fund a “Manchester City-themed boxing gym for underprivileged kids, but only if Oasis reunites for one final gig” — that has left his family reeling in stunned silence. As probate proceedings unfold in the wake of Hatton’s discovery on September 14 at his Gee Cross home, this peculiar stipulation, born from the fighter’s unshakeable passions for his beloved Blues and the Gallagher brothers’ anthems, threatens to ignite a family rift while underscoring the whimsical spirit that made him a national treasure.
The documents, filed at Manchester Probate Registry on July 15, 2022 — mere months after Hatton’s high-profile exhibition bout against Marco Antonio Barrera — paint a picture of a man grappling with legacy amid recovery. Hatton, the four-time world champion with a record of 45-3 (32 KOs), had clawed back from the abyss of depression, addiction, and a near-fatal 2010 suicide attempt. His 2013 autobiography The Hitman laid bare the “black dog” that haunted him post-defeats to Floyd Mayweather Jr. in 2007 and Manny Pacquiao in 2009. By 2022, sober and revitalized, he channeled that fire into mentorship, founding Hatton Promotions and guiding son Campbell’s brief pro career. Yet, whispers from his inner circle suggest the will update was no routine affair; it was a deliberate purge, excising a figure who’d been as much a fixture in his life as the sky-blue scarves at his fights.
The longtime associate in question? None other than Oliver “Ollie” Hargreaves, Hatton’s erstwhile business manager and confidant since the early 2000s. Hargreaves, a sharp-suited Stockport native, had been instrumental in Hatton’s post-retirement ventures: negotiating multimillion-pound endorsement deals with brands like Lucozade and Betfair, co-managing the £1.7 million Hyde mansion where Hatton was found, and even co-authoring a 2018 biography pitch that never saw daylight. Sources close to the family describe Hargreaves as the “shadow promoter,” a man who’d shared pints at the Griffin pub and flights to Vegas fight nights. But by 2022, cracks had formed. Insiders allege Hargreaves pushed Hatton toward risky investments — including a failed crypto scheme tied to NFT boxing memorabilia — that drained £500,000 from his £12 million fortune. More damning: leaked emails from the probate file show Hargreaves urging Hatton to “revisit the will” for a “loyalty bonus” just weeks before the update, a move Hatton scrawled in the margins of a draft: “No more blind trust.”
The excision was surgical. The 2022 codicil — a 12-page amendment to Hatton’s original 2015 will — revoked Hargreaves’ £250,000 bequest and his role as co-executor, replacing him with Hatton’s father, Ray, and manager Paul Speak. “For services rendered, but trust broken,” Hatton noted in a handwritten rider, dated amid his rehab-fresh clarity. Hargreaves, now 52 and running a low-key events firm in Cheshire, has declined comment, but a source familiar with their fallout tells Grok News: “Ollie was like a brother once — handled the dirty money side while Rick shone. But when the crypto tanked, fingers pointed. Rick felt betrayed, like a cheap shot in the clinches.” The cut wasn’t vengeful; it was pragmatic, reallocating the funds to Hatton’s core beneficiaries: his children — son Campbell, 16, and daughters Millie, 19, and Fearne, 17 — who stand to inherit the bulk, estimated at £8-10 million after taxes, including properties in Tenerife and a Hyde flat.
Yet, it’s the bizarre condition — Clause 7(b), dubbed the “Oasis Clause” in legal circles — that’s stunned the family into a mix of tears and disbelief. Tucked amid standard provisions for trusts and guardianships, it earmarks £1.5 million for a state-of-the-art boxing academy in Hyde: “A facility bearing my name, clad in sky blue, to train the next Pride of Hyde — but payable only upon the reunion of Oasis for a full concert tour, as verified by official announcement from Noel or Liam Gallagher.” Hatton, a lifelong Manchester City devotee who’d belt “Blue Moon” ringside and once tattooed the club’s crest on his bicep, fused his worlds: the roar of the Etihad with the Gallagher snarl. Oasis, the Britpop gods from nearby Burnage, soundtracked his rise — “Don’t Look Back in Anger” blaring after the 2005 Tszyu upset, “Champagne Supernova” echoing in Vegas defeats.
The clause, witnessed by solicitor Elena Croft on July 12, 2022, stems from a boozy 2021 pact with brother Matthew Hatton, a fellow boxer and Oasis obsessive. “Rick joked about it over pints,” Matthew recalled in a private family huddle last week, per sources. “Said if the Gallaghers buried the hatchet, it’d be the ultimate Manc win — City kids sparring to ‘Wonderwall’.” But post-death, with Oasis’s 2025 reunion tour already underway (their Wembley opener on September 27 drew chants of Hatton’s name), the condition feels prophetic — and problematic. The estate’s executors now face a dilemma: Oasis gigs are selling out, but does a “full tour” mean 10 shows or 100? Legal eagles like probate barrister Simon Hargreaves (no relation) warn it could spark litigation: “It’s enforceable if specific, but ‘reunion’ is subjective. The family might petition to waive it for the kids’ sake.”
The reading, held September 25 at a discreet Manchester law firm, unfolded like a ring bell tolling. Ray Hatton, 72, the stoic ex-fitter who’d sparred verbally with promoters, clutched Carol’s hand as Clause 7(b) was intoned. Carol, whose post-death whisper — “He was my baby boy, always will be” — melted fans, reportedly gasped: “Our Rick, even in the end, dreaming big.” Campbell, the aspiring fighter who’d retired young under his father’s wing, stared blankly, later posting on Instagram: “Dad’s last fight — for us, for the gym, for the music that kept him going.” Millie and Fearne, the “girls” Hatton doted on with Dubai plans, exchanged whispers; one source says Fearne quipped through sobs, “Dad’s got Oasis on speed dial from heaven.” But beneath the bittersweet laughs, shock lingers — Hargreaves’ ousting unearthed old wounds, the condition a wildcard in grief’s ring.
Paul Speak, who discovered Hatton amid upstairs music (reports suggest an Oasis track looping), told Boxing News: “Rick planned everything — the will was his knockout punch to doubters. The Oasis bit? Pure Rick — tying his heart to the city.” Speak, now sole executor alongside Ray, faces the unenviable: valuing memorabilia (that Mayweather-worn robe could fetch £100k) and navigating the clause. Hargreaves’ camp hints at a challenge: “Ollie built the empire; a crypto hiccup doesn’t erase decades.” But family loyalty trumps; a September 27 statement reiterated: “Richard’s wishes honor his loves — family, fight, and forever blue.”
Tributes swell as funeral nears October 10 at Manchester Cathedral, cortege weaving Hyde landmarks: the old gym, Etihad periphery, a stop at the Oasis reunion echo. Tyson Fury: “One Ricky — his will’s got more heart than any bout.” Amir Khan: “Legacy in clauses and kids.” Pacquiao: “Fought life bravely.” Beckham: “One of a kind.” City fans, per X posts, vow blue seas lining the route; one viral thread: “Oasis reunion funded the gym? Rick’s winning from above.”
Hatton’s £12m empire — from title purses to endorsements — now a vessel for his quirks. The bizarre condition? A final jab: whimsical, Mancunian, unbreakable. As Gallagher echoes fade, the family ponders: waive for now, or wait for the tour’s end? Either way, the Hitman’s shadow looms large — cutting foes, funding dreams, stunning us all. Rest easy, Rick. There’s only one.
