Michael Gomez: The Boxer Who Refused to Pull Any Punches While Telling His Story

For a man who once died for 48 seconds, Michael Gomez looks in good health.

Dressed in a suit and wearing a smile, the two-time British super featherweight champion is sitting behind a table on the second floor of Mulligans, an Irish pub in Manchester, England, the venue for the official launch of his autobiography.

Journalist Steve Bunce has written the foreword. His opening line reads: "Michael Gomez has been in some difficult places."

If you read the rest of the book, you realise just how many.

Gomez, real name Michael Armstrong, was born in a car crash into an Irish Travelling family. His childhood was spent on the move in Ireland before eventually relocating to Manchester. He would beg, steal and borrow to help put food on the table, while his father used his son's fighting skills as a way of funding his drinking.

He was once cleared of a manslaughter charge following a street fight and also briefly flatlined on an operating table in hospital following an allergic reaction to the anaesthetic. The reason for going under the knife: Gomez had been stabbed in the arm during a night out.

Oh, he also happened to have an eventful 48-fight career as a professional boxer, too.

Write Gomez's life story as a piece of fiction and publishers would dismiss the work out of hand, insisting it is too far-fetched.

He has been through more twists and turns than a pair of Formula 1 drivers playing a game of Snakes and Ladders.

A line on the front cover of the book reads: "It's not a story, it's my life." The statement was put there because what fills the 291 pages inside is the raw truth. Well, the raw truth that could be printed.

"I have been a little bit too open, a little bit too truthful, so I've certainly not held anything back," Gomez told Bleacher Report prior to the event's 6 p.m. start time.

"But look at the way I've turned out—it shows young kids that are struggling that, if you keep pushing for your dreams, look what can happen. I didn't have a good upbringing but I reached my goal.

"I'm proof to kids who are struggling at anything that you have got to keep pushing."

For co-author John Ludden, the opportunity to tell Gomez's story was simply too good to turn down.

The writer—who has penned a number of football books, as well as producing historical fiction—had already re-written a screenplay about the boxer when he received a call during a holiday in Llandudno, Wales, asking if he'd be interested in working on the autobiography.

The pair met up, immediately hit it off and decided to move forward with the project. Yet even Ludden wasn't quite prepared for some of the stuff he would hear during the process.

"I knew his story, but I didn't know the extent of it," he said.

"I would go around to his house with a Dictaphone and a notepad, and we would work our way through it. Some weeks it would be great because you were talking about the good times.

"When it came to the bad times, however, it used to drain him to the point that he'd have to go to bed. It drained me, too. But he wanted it to be honest—he wanted people to know.

"It [the autobiography] should really have been called 'Are You Sure?' because the stuff that went in the book was...well, I purposely left some out myself because it was too honest."

If you've seen Gomez in action in a ring, you wouldn't expect him to ever hold anything back. 

Yet while he has triumphed over adversity to show others what can be accomplished, his story is also a painful reminder of what could, really should, have been.

Fighters often say boxing saved them. Were it not for finding the sport, they would have ended up in a prison cell somewhere or, even worse, dead at a young age.

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Gomez is one such case, albeit with an added twist. He never went to school unless it was for a fight, and while the sport initially revealed a career path to follow, it eventually ended up offering much-needed respite from his partying ways.

"Boxing gave me structure—it gave my life meaning. My benders in between fights were mad—cocaine, women, drinking—so imagine what my life would have been like had I not taken 12 weeks off it to train," he said.

"The money was always handy—a big pay day here and there helped—but I loved boxing. It haunts me to this day how I took the piss out of it. Imagine if I'd have been dedicated to it. I won two British titles and a version of a world title [the WBU belt]. But I've now got to live with that."

His lifestyle cost him more than just his marriage to wife Alison.

It wasn't a question of talent with Gomez, more a lack of dedication. Life tended to get in the way of his job.

Ludden explained how Gomez would "disappear into a black hole" after fights, only resurfacing again when it came time to train for the next one: "Michael always told me he trained to make the weight, not the fight.

"The only person he blames is the one he sees looking back at him in the mirror. He knows that if he'd have really looked after himself, things would've been different."

There was one exception, though.

Ask anyone who remembers watching Gomez in action and the likelihood is they'll reference one fight in particular. While the man himself believes the victory over Gary Thornhill in 1999 to be his best performance, his sensational stoppage of Alex Arthur in 2003 is the one that sticks in the memory of most fight fans.

Even if you missed it first time around, the contest is often featured by Sky Sports on their Classic Fights show.

Gomez always enjoys watching the fight back.

He wasn't given a chance on the night. After losing to Kevin Lear the year before, he was viewed as a stepping stone for reigning British champion Arthur, a rising star at the time who had eased to a 16-0 record.

However, the underdog was prepared for the challenge. Under the guidance of new trainer Billy Graham, who had taken over following Gomez's split from long-time mentor Brian Hughes, and with the help of nutritionist Kerry Kayes, Gomez made sure he was, for once, fighting fit.

"They knew they had to get him out of Manchester to get his head right. His mate took him to a place out in the country. It was like Rocky IV—he was living in the hills, running around and chopping up wood," Ludden explained.

Gomez and Ludden relived the entire fight in the former's living room, although the latter declined the invitation to play the role of Arthur, who was dramatically stopped in Round 5 after being knocked down three times.

While he went on to face future world champions Amir Khan and Ricky Burns, losing to both at the tail-end of his career, that night at the Meadowbank Sports Centre in Edinburgh, Scotland, will be Gomez's legacy to boxing.

That and the sombrero, of course.

Gomez became synonymous with the sombrero, choosing to wear one during for his ring entrances. His loyal, raucous band of supporters would wear them too, making them easy to spot in a crowd.

The gimmick came about because another fighter had taken a liking to his real name and decided to take it for himself. To avoid any confusion with the other Michael Armstrong, a new identity was required.

"When I turned pro, I had to change my name. Someone else already had the name Michael Armstrong, even though it was my actual name!" Gomez said.

"I was going to go with Michael McGuigan. However, Brian Hughes kept showing me these tapes of Wilfredo Gomez, who was a cracking puncher. I tried to copy his left uppercut in the gym and it just stuck from there.

"We went with it, and when I came out to fight Peter Buckley in Telford, England, in 1998, about 300 fans had sombreros on. I thought then that I'd made it."

The hats were a nice touch, except for just one thing. While a sombrero is linked with Mexico, Wilfredo Gomez actually hailed from Puerto Rico. It didn't matter—"The Manc Mexican" was born.

Eventually, the sombrero was hung up in 2009, although Gomez knew long before then that his career was over. Retirement proved tough—really tough.

"I went through a bit of a bad time after I retired from boxing. I was a bit depressed," Gomez revealed.

"I was out every night drinking, taking cocaine. I had no meaning in life—I'd split up with my wife and she'd taken the kids. I was in a bad place."

Now, though, Gomez's roller-coaster ride through life appears to be on the up again.

John Gichigi/Getty Images

There is a new woman, Debbie, in his life and Michael Gomez Jr.—one of four children—is continuing the family name in the fight business. Despite the best efforts to push his boy towards playing football, dad is still supportive of his son's career choice.

"He's 21 years of age, but he'll always be my baby. Inside, I've got feelings just like everyone else. There are no closer feelings than your own kids—and I cannot stand to see mine get hit," Gomez Sr. said.

"I leave him to it. I've seen a lot of father-son relationships work [in boxing] but also a lot break down. I'm just letting him do his thing.

"People may not know this, but I used to get so nervous before my fights. Now, though, I'm 10 times worse when he's fighting. I can't watch really. It's out of my hands. I didn't even watch his last one in truth—I went to the venue but left before he came on. I knew he was going to win, but I just couldn't watch it."

Gomez Sr. still does "little bits" of boxing. He also admits to having a weakness for food, as well as the odd pint or two of Guinness. Old habits die hard, but Gomez is still alive and kicking.

Despite it being more than seven years since his last fight, he remains a popular figure—and not just in his own back yard either.

The British Boxing Board of Control are still forwarding mail to his home, while one group of boxing fans travelled down from Glasgow, Scotland, just to get their copies of the autobiography signed in person.

"I've been in the public eye for a long time with my boxing career. It's just nice to be back there. It gives you a bit of a lift. People tend to forget who you are after a while," Gomez said.

Forget Michael Gomez? Read the book and that's nigh-on impossible, for his story is one of survival, success and personal struggles.

Bunce was right—Gomez has been in some difficult places. Thankfully, though, he lived to tell the tale.

"When Michael hits the floor, he hits it on his head, but he always seems to come back," said Ludden, who cracked open Gomez's memory bank and found more than he could ever imagine inside.

While the book is now published, the story of one of Manchester's most popular boxers goes on.

Rob Lancaster is a featured columnist for Bleacher Report. All quotes were obtained firsthand unless otherwise stated.