Bruno Treated Royally By English Fans

The night last September when Frank Bruno became a world heavyweight champion by defeating American Oliver McCall in London, he carried the championship belt home, took it to bed, and placed it beside him next to his wife, Laura. They slept that way.

He had waited 15 years, run thousands of miles, boxed hundreds of rounds, and been knocked out four times trying to get at that belt.

When Bruno, 34, tells the story now, he adds: “Sleeping with that belt was better than sex.”

Days later, on a cold, rainy Sunday, a parade was staged in his honor. Bruno rode in an open-top bus from Marble Arch to Trafalgar Square, holding the belt aloft, showing it to 60,000 people who had lined the streets to see it, and him.

Saturday night, when Bruno defends his World Boxing Council title for the first time against Mike Tyson at MGM’s Grand Garden, the belt will be carried into the ring and held high for a crowd of 16,000, including 3,000 to 4,000 Union Jack-waving British rooters.

“And if he should win,” said Steve Bunce, boxing writer for the Daily Telegraph in London, “it will be the biggest story in England. It could almost topple England’s 1966 World Cup victory.”

There is no greater hero in England than Bruno, a 247-pounder with bulging muscles and a washboard stomach rippling over a sculpted, 6-foot, 3-inch frame.

When he walks the streets of London, people want to touch him. Adults, children, stray dogs - they follow him as if he were a piper. He has been a guest of the queen several times and received the MBE (Member of the British Empire) medal from her. He is a talk-show regular, appears on stage at the theater. He endorses the food they eat, the clothes they wear. Even their toilet paper.

The reason for such popularity isn’t fully understood, because there have been greater achievers in British sports history, more-accomplished athletes, richer ones. Lennox Lewis, for instance, also a Londoner, beat Bruno and became the first British heavyweight to win a world title.

Part of his popularity has to do with the way he overcame a troubled childhood in Hammersmith. After his father died, Bruno was an uncontrollable teenager, placed in a reform school in Sussex. His mother, a nurse and part-time Pentecostal preacher, tearfully made the decision. He bullied. He defied. He fought like a yard dog until a teacher, recognizing his natural leadership, got his attention and redirected his life.

Part of his popularity stems from his outstanding amateur career: Bruno won 18 of 19 fights, and became the youngest British amateur champion in history.

Part of it has to do with his attitude toward his country and his fans. Early in his career he wore Union Jack trunks in all his fights. He waved the flag in the ring, wore it on his clothing. And he has never, ever stepped into a ring unprepared or given less than 100 percent, always fighting back even when out on his feet.

Most of all, his popularity has to do with some clever promoters who spotted him early, developed him slowly, and deftly created a media darling. He was taught how to dress, what to say, when to say it.

“He’s a performing bear,” sniffed one British tourist, here on holiday and not to see the fight. “I find him quite annoying and obsessed with money.”

There is a suspicion among many in British boxing circles that a cold, calculating man lives beneath Bruno’s charming, caring image, partner with a calculating wife, mother of three, sweetheart since 16 and steadfast negotiator who makes many of Bruno’s business decisions and expects to be paid for interviews, his or hers.

Said Bunce, a writer who has covered Bruno’s career from the beginning: “He’s a bit like an idiot savant. He makes a big deal of everything, says too many stupid things, uses the same quotes all the time, and it’s tiring. But it’s OK because he works so hard at it, tries so hard to be nice.”

Bruno has been a bit crabby since arriving in Las Vegas. He was treated rudely by some in Tyson’s entourage. And he is unhappy about the uneven purse split. Tyson, the challenger, is guaranteed $30 million, a record, plus a percentage of the pay-per-view sales. Bruno gets $6 million, period.

That’s almost $5 million more than he has received for any of his previous 44 fights. “I am happy for the opportunity,” he said, adding, “I have been treated like the challenger.”

But this time it’s about a lot more than money. It’s that precious belt. “I’ve come in with the belt,” he said, “and I’m leaving with it.”