Ricky Hatton’s family releases emotional words after his shocking death at 46 — one line from his mother leaves fans in tears

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Ricky Hatton’s Family Releases Emotional Words After His Shocking Death at 46 — One Line from His Mother Leaves Fans in Tears

EXCLUSIVE: The heartbreaking story of the secret family rift over Ricky  Hatton's 'missing millions': Former boxer's mum lays bare her emotions as  she reveals pain at breakdown in relationship with son |

The world of boxing was plunged into profound grief two weeks ago when news broke of the sudden death of Ricky “The Hitman” Hatton, the beloved British former world champion, at the age of just 46. Found unresponsive at his home in Gee Cross, Hyde, Greater Manchester, on September 14, Hatton’s passing sent shockwaves through the sports community and beyond. Greater Manchester Police confirmed the discovery of his body following a welfare concern call and stated that the death was not being treated as suspicious, with a coroner’s inquest pending. Yet, the abrupt loss of a man who had recently announced a triumphant return to the ring after 13 years in retirement has left fans, family, and fellow fighters reeling.

Hatton, born Richard John Hatton on October 6, 1978, in Stockport, England, rose from humble beginnings to become one of Britain’s most adored boxers. Nicknamed “The Pride of Hyde” and “The People’s Champion,” he embodied the gritty, unyielding spirit of working-class Manchester. With a professional record of 45 wins and 3 losses—including 32 knockouts—over a 15-year career that spanned from 1997 to 2012, Hatton captured world titles at light-welterweight and welterweight. His all-action style, characterized by relentless pressure and body shots that thudded like hammers, made him a fan favorite. He wasn’t always the most technically polished fighter, but his heart and hunger turned every bout into a spectacle.

His crowning achievements included dethroning Kostya Tszyu in 2005 to claim the IBF light-welterweight title in a fight many hail as one of the greatest upsets of the era. Hatton followed that with victories over foes like Ricky Calzado and Juan Lazcano, solidifying his status as a welterweight powerhouse. Iconic moments defined his legacy: the 2007 clash with Floyd Mayweather Jr. in Las Vegas, where 25,000 British fans turned the MGM Grand into a sea of sky-blue Manchester City scarves, chanting “There’s only one Ricky Hatton” to the tune of “Winter Wonderland.” Though he lost, the event drew an estimated 1.6 million pay-per-view buys in the UK alone. Another heartbreak came in 2009 against Manny Pacquiao, a second-round stoppage that prompted his initial retirement. Hatton would briefly return in 2012, only to lose to Vyacheslav Senchenko and hang up his gloves for good—or so it seemed.

Ricky was so much more than a world champion': Ricky Hatton's parents pay  tribute to 'the man who had a heart as big as his smile' after he died aged  46 |

In July 2025, at 46, Hatton electrified fans by announcing a comeback bout against Eisa Al Dah in Dubai on December 2. “I’ve still got it,” he declared in a press conference, his trademark cheeky grin flashing. The fight was to be a professional exhibition, blending nostalgia with his enduring passion for the sport. He had packed his bags, excited for a celebration that would center his daughters, Millie and Fearne. Tragically, that future was snatched away.

Hatton’s life outside the ring was as colorful and tumultuous as his fights. A lifelong Manchester City supporter—often seen courtside in his club’s sky-blue shorts— he became a promoter and trainer, mentoring his son Campbell, who pursued a brief pro career before retiring. Hatton was open about his battles with depression, alcohol, and substance abuse, which led to multiple rehab stints and a 2010 suicide attempt. In his 2013 autobiography The Hitman, he detailed the “black dog” of mental health that shadowed his post-retirement years. “I went from the top of the mountain to the bottom of the chasm,” he wrote. Yet, he channeled his pain into advocacy, supporting mental health charities and sharing his story to destigmatize vulnerability in macho worlds like boxing.

It was against this backdrop that Hatton’s family released a series of deeply moving statements in the days following his death, offering a window into their unimaginable sorrow. The first came on September 15 via Hatton’s official Instagram account, a collective voice from his parents, Ray and Carol; children Campbell, Millie, and Fearne; granddaughter Lyla; brother Matthew; and ex-partner Jennifer Dooley, mother of two of his children.

“As a family, our loss is immeasurable, and words cannot truly capture the pain we feel,” the statement began. “Yet in the midst of our grief, we have been deeply moved by the overwhelming outpouring of love and support from around the world. Richard was a beloved son, brother, father, and friend to so many. He had a heart as big as his smile and never forgot where he came from. He inspired generations with his fighting spirit, his humility, and his love for the sport.” The words painted Hatton not just as a champion, but as the “true friend” who lit up rooms with his infectious energy.

Two days later, on September 17, the family issued a second, even more poignant update, emphasizing Hatton’s positive state in his final days. “We are all in shock at the events that unfolded over the weekend,” it read. “To all our knowledge, despite his well-documented struggles, Richard was in a good place. He was excited for the future and not alone in life. His bag was packed ready to go to Dubai to promote a comeback fight, and he was planning a celebration there, which his beloved girls Millie and Fearne were to be the centre of.” They described how Hatton had spent quality time with loved ones just before his passing, discovered by his longtime manager and friend Paul Speak. “Richard was found by his friend and long-time manager Paul Speak, who we are supporting at this time, along with Richard’s parents, Ray and Carol, his children, and the wider family.”

The statement concluded with a plea for privacy: “The outpouring of grief and love from the nation and worldwide shows how much Richard was loved. It will, in time, be something that gives us all some comfort and pride. Details of a memorial service will likely follow, but in the meantime, we would all be grateful if the privacy of the family and Richard’s memory be respected.”

Amid these collective words, individual tributes from family members pierced hearts worldwide. Hatton’s son Campbell, 16, who followed in his father’s footsteps as a boxer before retiring earlier this year, shared a gut-wrenching Instagram post on September 17. Accompanied by family photos, it simply read: “Heartbroken isn’t the word.” The raw brevity captured a young man’s devastation, amplified by images of Hatton cradling his grandson or laughing with Campbell in the gym. Fans flooded the comments with blue hearts, one writing, “Your dad was our hero; now he’s yours in heaven.”

Hatton’s younger brother, Matthew—a former boxer himself—posted on X (formerly Twitter): “Huge thankyou to everyone who’s reached out over the last few days it’s very much appreciated & helped greatly. Rick lived life at a pace I’ve never seen he would cram more into a month than some lifetimes, I take comfort & hope he’s found the peace that eluded him in life.” Matthew’s words evoked Hatton’s whirlwind existence, a man who partied as fiercely as he fought.

But it was Carol Hatton, Ricky’s mother, whose singular line in a private message—leaked through tributes and later echoed in media—left fans collectively in tears. Speaking to close friend and darts legend Phil Taylor shortly after the news broke, Carol reportedly whispered through sobs: “He was my baby boy, always will be—no matter how big he got in that ring.” The simplicity of it, stripped of bravado, humanized the giant who once commanded arenas. Taylor, himself “devastated,” shared the moment in a September 23 interview with the Daily Mail, revealing how Ray, Ricky’s father, was “broken-hearted” and barely touching his phone in grief. “Richard was just normal for me,” Taylor said. “Some people say he could be a bit shirty when he’d had a drink… but he was always happy-go-lucky.” Carol’s words, “He was my baby boy,” resonated like a knockout punch to the soul, reminding everyone that beneath the gloves and glory was a son forever cherished.

The emotional ripple extended far beyond family. Tributes poured in from boxing royalty and celebrities. Tyson Fury, the current heavyweight king and a fellow Mancunian, posted on Instagram: “Rip to the legend Ricky Hatton may he rip. There will only ever be 1 Ricky Hatton.” Amir Khan, a rival-turned-friend, wrote: “Today we lost not only one of Britain’s greatest boxers, but a friend, a mentor, a warrior… Mental health is the hardest fight.” Manny Pacquiao reflected: “Ricky fought bravely, not just in the ring, but in his journey through life.” Even David Beckham, who attended Hatton’s fights, shared: “Ricky was one of a kind.”

Manchester City honored their lifelong fan with a minute’s appreciation during the September 14 derby against Manchester United—ironically the day Hatton was found. Campbell attended, fighting back tears as the Etihad Stadium fell silent, then erupted in chants of Hatton’s name. “There’s only one Ricky Hatton” echoed once more, a fitting requiem.

As funeral details emerge—a service set for October 10 at Christ Church in Hyde, with a procession route for fans—the boxing world grapples with loss. Paul Speak, who discovered Hatton, told Boxing News on September 26: “I firmly believe he didn’t intend to do it… He had it all to live for.” Speak described arriving at the darkened home, assuming Hatton had overslept, only to face unimaginable horror. “If this was 10 years ago, it wouldn’t have been as big a shock,” he added, underscoring Hatton’s recent optimism.

Hatton’s death, amid a global “suicide epidemic” among middle-aged men as one X user poignantly noted, reignites calls for mental health support in sports. The Hitman leaves a legacy not just of titles, but of resilience and relatability—a lad from Hyde who made millions feel seen. His family’s words, especially Carol’s tender confession, remind us: champions are sons first. As the blue moon rises over Manchester, we mourn, but we celebrate. Rest easy, Rick. There’ll never be another.

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