British boxing icon Ricky Hatton was found dead at 46 on Sept. 14. He was a two-weight world champion and held The Ring title at 140 pounds. More importantly, however, he was a father, a son, a brother, an uncle and a hero to thousands of adoring fans who travelled far and wide to watch his legendary fights.

Our deepest condolences go out to Ricky's family and friends. RIP, Hitman.

Here, Ring writers share their personal memories of the man they covered throughout his storied 15-year career:

I was in Manchester for UFC 70 in 2007 while Ricky was preparing for his fight with Jose Luis Castillo. I took a cab to Billy Graham's gym, was greeted warmly by Ricky and the team, and proceeded to watch a young man in his prime show why he was one of the best in the world. After his workout, we moved to another area of the gym for an interview, and I'll never forget that before we started, he got bottles of water for everyone and asked if we needed anything. This was the biggest star in British boxing and he was asking if we needed anything. All class and someone who was truly a man of the people. Sure, he was a great fighter, but I'll remember him more for the way he treated a Yank who happened to show up at his gym that day.

I attended Ricky's finest moment against Kostya Tszyu on an unforgettable night in Manchester and can bookend that with his loss to Vyacheslav Senchenko. Fast forward six years years to October 2018 when I was in Kiev, Ukraine, for the WBC convention and the two met up again, allowing me to peek behind the mask. Hatton was staying at the same hotel as me along with his right-hand man, Paul Speak, and on one particular day we travelled to one of the events. Ricky was in a jovial mood and was joking around with Paul, as they often did, it was really nice to see him like this away from the cameras and allowed me to see the real Ricky. I can vividly recall how in that moment I could see why he was so popular as a man of the people.

Ricky Hatton’s former trainer, Billy Graham, once told me the moment he realised Hatton had what it took to reach the top.

On the day of his bloody, brutal British title fight with Jon Thaxton in 2000, Hatton and Graham went for a walk around London. Hatton had been groomed for stardom but Thaxton represented a significant test. Sensing Graham’s serious demeanour, Hatton turned to him and said, “Don’t worry about me, Billy. I’m not worried about taking a hiding.”

It was that type of humble honesty and willingness to test himself that earned Hatton a place deep in the hearts of British boxing fans.

Everybody who bought a ticket or sat down at home to watch Hatton fight couldn’t help but admire his skill but they were really drawn in by both his determination and the good-natured way he went about his business.

Those who met him in person found him to be exactly as advertised. A friendly, funny local boy done good. Hatton built a massive army of fans because he was a man of the people.

I had many professional interactions with Hatton over the years and thought it would be easy to pluck a favourite moment from my memory but — without sounding like I have chosen a deliberately obscure deep cut — I have chosen one I experienced during my own time as one of those fans.

I was 19 years old when Hatton won the Central Area title by taking apart Tommy Peacock at my local leisure centre. I was captivated by the sight of somebody my age — from my city — fighting with the type of flair and imagination British boxing fans only usually saw from top-level prospects from across the Atlantic.

It was the start of a journey that would lead Hatton, and his supporters, to places they could have only dreamt of and it has remained firmly lodged in my mind ever since.

Over the coming days and weeks, images of Hatton’s sensational win over Kostya Tszyu will be played over and over again. Those who made the pilgrimage to watch him fight in Las Vegas will reminisce about the trips and tell stories about his fights with Jose Luis Castillo, Juan Urango, Floyd Mayweather, Paulie Malignaggi and Manny Pacquaio.

Almost every single one of those messages will be accompanied by a personal anecdote or note about how good a man he was.

Throughout his incredible highs and well-publicised lows, Hatton’s attitude towards his friends, colleagues and fans never changed. Be it at a media event, at ringside, in a television studio or in a pub, Hatton always found time for a chat and left strangers feeling like they had known him for years.

In a way, they had.

Push the world title belts to one side. That genuine affection and admiration is the biggest testament to the effect Hatton had on British boxing.

Rest in peace, Champ.

For us late '80s babies from Britain, the door was opened to boxing by Chris Eubank, Nigel Benn, Lennox Lewis and Naseem Hamed. But by the time we all hit our teens, it was Ricky Hatton who kept us in the room.

The truth is, a large swathe of the population grew up idolising Ricky Hatton and his Everyman charm meant he connected to the public like no other sportsman in Britain.

To get the chance to cover the very tail end of his career and then interview him countless times, whether it was on a boat in Gibraltar, in a Vegas casino or at many of the shows on which his boxers fought, felt like a true privilege.

My favourite one, and the last time I ever interviewed him at length, was alongside George Groves for an episode of our podcast. We spent the day in his Hyde gym, recording for hours to produce a two-parter in which he shirked no question. Not only that, once we had finished with Ricky, he let us stay and record further episodes with Anthony Crolla and Scott Quigg, while he brought us cups of tea and bottles of water. Just a thoroughly nice man. They say never meet your heroes, I’m glad I did.

I followed Ricky and Manny Pacquiao during the promotional process in the lead-up to their memorable 2009 fight for a Ring story, including many of the behind-the-scenes activities. That included interviews, in which the fighters were asked the same questions multiple times to get the perfect response for promotional videos, and the signing of hundreds of gloves. That kind of thing. Two things struck me about Ricky: One, he was smart. He expressed himself well. He provided thoughtful, concise answers. And, two, he was an absolute professional. He understood the business side of boxing and was committed to doing his part — without a single complaint — even in the days leading up to the biggest fight of his life. I was impressed with both the fighter and the man.