Wrestling Heritage

In the winter of 1971 rivalry in the British lightweight division was intense. George Kidd seemed just about unassailable as World champion, but a handful of wrestlers were more than capable of mounting a serious challenge for the domestic crown. British champion at the time was Jim Breaks, by then a three times champion on and off since having first taken the belt in 1963.  Zoltan Boscik, Jon Cortez, Al Miquet and Bill Ross were more than credible challengers. There was one man, though, whose rivalry with Breaks edged towards animosity. Johnny Saint had taken the title from Zoltan Boscik in the spring of 1971. By the time I met up with the two wrestlers Breaks was again champion, having taken the title off Saint in a thrilling contest at Belle Vue on 21^st August.

I’d met Breaks on a number of occasions previously. Contrary to his ring persona I’d always found him a pleasant and amiable man. He’d told me about his pride at winning the title for the first time, talked lovingly about his family and confided in me the wrestlers he most admired. All that changed the night I met up with Jim Breaks and Johnny Saint. There was a sudden change in the pitch of Jim Breaks’ voice, the speed of his words gathered pace, speech patterns became more frantic and facial features more animated. Johnny Saint was obviously a wrestler that agitated the champion. Saint, on the other hand, remained as composed as ever.

Our meeting was within an hour of a drawn non title bout between the two wrestlers.  In retrospect my timing could have been better. Maybe the start of my questioning could have been more tactful. At the time, though, it seemed perfectly reasonable to suggest that the drawn result had demonstrated just how little there was to choose between the two wrestlers in terms of skill.

That was all it took. A wry smile appeared on Saint’s face as he sensed my mistake and realised that he wouldn’t be given a chance to speak for quite a while. “That’s nonsense,” quipped the champion, “there’s no comparison. How can you start to compare me, Jim Breaks, the British champion, with Saint? You’re talking nonsense. Alright, so Saint held the title for a few months, that was just a ‘flash in the pan.’ He was very lucky, and remember, I took the title off him at Belle Vue, and that’s his local hall.”  And  so he continued for a good five minutes, more or less repeating the above mantra in a variety of ways.  

When Breaks finally paused for breath Johnny Saint intervened. His response was quiet and composed. “Well,” he started, and the simple pause after that word alone brought a calmness to the discussion. “It is true that I lost my title at my local hall. That was a disappointment, but then in my wrestling career I’ve had to face many setbacks. He can call my time as champion a 'flash-in-the-pan' if he likes, but I'll tell you this, he's not been very willing to get back in the ring with me and defend the title since then." 

I suggested to Breaks that Saint had a point. After all, he might well have the better championship credentials, and Saint may be a relative newcomer in the top flight, but Johnny did have some remarkable wins under his belt. I knew the answer but still asked if he could confirm that Saint had beaten him by two straight falls? To say that Breaks’ response made me feel vulnerable would be a gross exaggeration, but he was clearly antagonised by my statement. “These things happen,” and with an increasing sharpness to his words continued, “anyone can have an off-night, just because a wrestler gets lucky doesn’t give me anything to worry about.”

“That’s true,” Johnny Saint interjected, "Anybody can have an off-night, and I think that is simply what happened when I lost the British title to him at Manchester last year."

By the end of 1971 both wrestlers had enjoyed success at the highest level and so I chose to ask them what had been the highlights of their illustrious careers. It seemed that no sooner had I got to the end of a question, and sometimes even before that, Breaks was responding at breakneck speed. Maybe he thought a hasty response would add weight to his words. He needn’t have worried, because I had no intention of arguing with him. “Look lad, are you stupid or something? Do you know anything about wrestling? You’ve watched me wrestle many times, and yet you ask stupid questions like that. I ask you, how can a wrestler like the great Jim Breaks have one highlight in his career? My career is one long highlight. One match is just like any other. I go in to win, and I always win.”

It was at this point that Ernest Lofthouse, MC, came across and asked if everything was alright, as things seemed to be getting a little heated. I took this as my cue to move on to safer ground, and suggested that we should talk about the light­weight scene in general.

As had occurred so often in our previous meetings Jim Breaks took this as an invitation to talk about himself. "My wife, Pat, and I have two children, Gary and Karen.  I'm teaching Gary to wrestle. He could not possibly have a better tutor. Who can teach anyone better than the man who knows all the moves, the man who is the greatest at his weight in the world? And that man is here, you are talking to him, Jim Breaks."

As Kidd had held the World title for much of the previous twenty years it was little short of incredulous that Breaks could make such a claim. I was obviously feeling brave. "Surely not the greatest in the world?" I said. “What about George Kidd?" Reminding him that Kidd was World champion, as though anyone needed reminding,  I suggested it would be quite  a few years time before he would have any chance of succeeding Kidd..

“Who  said anything about two to three years?" snapped Jimmy, "when I say now I mean now. The next couple of months.  In fact, I've taken over from him now.  He doesn't wrestle all that often you know."

That was true. By 1971 Kidd wrestled fairly infrequently and rarely ventured south of Scotland. He was, nevetheless, universally acclaimed as far and away the best Lightweight in Europe and legitimate holder of the world title.

Knowing that Breaks had recently failed to wrest the title from Kidd I began to venture, “But the last time he defended the title to you he…”

That was as far as I got. “Can’t you get it into your thick head,” Jim interrupted, “I was robbed of the decision. I am the greatest wrestler in the world, and nobody can beat me. Forget about Kidd. Get onto the next question. “

I turned to Johnny Saint and asked him his opinion of the world champion. He promptly dismissed Breaks’ claims and showed the reverence to Kidd that was universally shared, except by Breaks it seemed

.

"The way I see it," said Johnny, "I could wrestle George Kidd seven times and learn seven new moves. I think that every wrestler learns a great deal just by losing to George."

"Do you think you could beat Kidd?" I asked Johnny. He thought, but only for a second, "No, I do not think I could beat George Kidd at the moment.  One day I hope, but  I will have to learn a great deal more before I can beat him."

Asked his opinion of Jimmy Breaks, Mancunian Saint admitted to having some admiration of the Yorkshireman’s skill, but said it was a shame that he was such a loudmouth. That was the only cue needed for Jim Breaks,  "The fans seem to think I'm a baby and give me nappies and dummies. They know deep down that I am number one, but refuse to admit it. One of the weaknesses of the human race is that people run away from that which they find unpleasant."

With that I brought the interview to an end. Jimmy Breaks and Johnny Saint are such legends of the Mountevans era that almost forty years later fans are still discussing their exploits. Breaks continued as the dominant force on the domestic scene, not only winning the lightweight championship an incredible nine times, but simultaneously moving up to to welterweight and taking that title no less than eight times! If that sounds unbelievable then also add to your incredulity Breaks as European lightweight champion no fewer than sixteen times, finally losing to Steve Grey in 1991.

Johnny Saint’s subsequent career was no less successful. He dominated the World lightweight title after succeeding George Kidd in 1976 and finally retired as undefeated champion in 1997.

At the very core of this explosive rivalry lay real talent. This was a talent so great that the lightweights took the baton from those sixties welterweights, who had themselves displaced the heavyweights as unquestioned occupiers of main event billing, and went on to skilfully, entertainingly and believably dominate wrestling for the next twenty years.

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