Beyond The Ropes: Martin Hillman
By Garry White
Gizza job,” Yosser Hughes uttered more than once in the seminal 80s TV series Boys from the Blackstuff. Trudging wearily around his Toxteth neighbourhood, he was desperate to work—pleading for a chance, only to be met with blank expressions and empty apologies.
Thirty-four-year-old Sidcup-born, Orpington-based bantamweight Martin Hillman may be too young to recall this storied polemic on Thatcher’s Britain, but he knows the sentiment all too well. All the professional boxer wants is a shot at a belt. But once again, forces beyond his control have blocked his path.
This weekend, at the Black Box-promoted show at West London’s Tolworth Recreation Centre, Hillman was set to headline in a ten-rounder for the vacant Commonwealth Silver super-bantamweight title. His scheduled opponent, Tanzanian Anwary Twaha, arrived with a ten-fight unbeaten record, including eight knockouts—a clash promising real intrigue.
But the fight has now been cancelled. Hillman is off the bill.
“I’ve just heard that my opponent has been refused a visa by the Home Office,” says a gutted Hillman. “We’ve done everything properly and by the book. I just can’t believe my bad luck.”
Hillman and his team scrambled to find a replacement—scouring both the domestic and international scenes—but no suitable contender could be lined up at such short notice.
“I’ve had nightmares all week trying to get this sorted,” he admits. “We tried the UK route, then found a guy from India who was already here, but that didn’t come off either.”
When you hear how much Daniel Dubois collected for his heavyweight title fight at Wembley last weekend, spare a thought for Hillman. He operates in a place galaxies away from the $70 million the now-former IBF champion reportedly earned.
Hillman, with a record of 19-7 (2 KOs) and nine wins in his last ten, isn’t in it for the money. He’s chasing his own small piece of history. Trained by his father and supported by a small, tight-knit team, he fits boxing around his day job as a mechanic. Early mornings and late evenings are spent pounding the streets or grinding through gym sessions.
On top of that, there’s the ongoing challenge of selling tickets—a crucial lifeline for small-hall fighters to remain marketable to promoters. And now, with the fight cancelled, Hillman must begin the dispiriting task of refunding all the tickets he’s already sold.
He could have stayed on the card in a four-rounder against a journeyman, but that’s not the direction he wants.
“I think a lot of people would be annoyed if I went from a title fight to a four-rounder,” he says. “It’s better to save those ticket sales for something more meaningful.”
You’d be forgiven for wondering why he bothers. But Hillman isn’t giving up.
“I’m going to take a rest for a week, then get right back to it,” he says. “Hopefully, I’m still in line for the Commonwealth Silver title and can get another opponent soon.”
That sort of positivity shouldn’t come as a surprise. This is the same fighter who once travelled to Ghana to defend his UBO Inter-Continental belt—surviving extreme heat, a mid-fight power cut, and a tough Tanzanian opponent to grind out a ten-round decision win.
For now, that sometimes lightly regarded title means the world to him. But he’s desperate for an upgrade. With four unsuccessful cracks at Southern Area titles already behind him—often at unfavourable weights—he sees the Commonwealth Silver strap as more than a belt. It’s a gateway to the main Commonwealth title and a chance to imprint his name into the boxing storybooks.
If anyone has earned another roll of the dice, surely it’s Martin Hillman.