Dear Mr Harrison,
I will keep this short and sweet. In fact, I’d like it to take you less time to read this than it took Deontay Wilder to drop you in Sheffield on Saturday.
So, let me just set my timer to 70 seconds….........................................and go:
Please retire. Please, please, please, please retire.
I realise getting dumped on your backside by every untested heavyweight prospect is probably a profitable living, but surely at 41 you have enough money stashed away to stop the embarrassment?
Fraudley, A-Farce, Audrey, Harris-down. Haven't you had enough of it all? And let's face it: it's not as if your performances are ever going to silence the taunts.
When you were pulverised by David Price, our man James Garner wrote you a nice, glowing career obituary. In fact, here it is if you want to check it out.
Every word is true. You did make positive impressions on the sport as well as bad ones. And thank you for the memories. Sincerely.
But it's time to go. It was time to go seven months ago in Liverpool. Surely you'd live a very happy life coaching or commentating?
I know what you’re thinking at the moment. You’re thinking you can keep it going and perhaps even have one more crack at earning a world title shot by entering yet another Prizefighter.
Who are you kidding? You fought Derric Rossy in the final. DERRIC ROSSY. Your so-called ‘clash of the titans’ in the semi-finals with Martin Rogan was a dull non-fight. I like Prizefighter tournaments, but that win proved nothing on any significant scale.
You have nothing left to prove because there is nothing worthwhile you are capable of proving.
So just pack it in, eh Aud? There’s a good lad.
Liam Happe (and everyone else, everywhere).