Punch-drunk has let us down

IT WILL be a long climb out of the gutter for shamed Scott Harrison.

But one thing he's got is time on his hands.

By now, the grim reality of just how much he has thrown away will be kicking in.

The disgraced ex-world champ will wake up in his stifling prison cell in the Costa del Sol this morning barely two days into a two- and-a-half year stretch.

I want to feel sorry for the wee guy from Lanarkshire, who made us all proud when he punched his way to the WBO featherweight title in 2002, then lost it and won it back again the following year.

Long before he stepped off a plane in Malaga this week, his memories of those triumphs had been replaced by the pain of a string of defeats out of the ring and the knowledge that a life once so full of promise was in meltdown. What a sorry mess.

But instead of pity for him it is ANGER I feel. Because Harrison has squandered everything.

He has not just let himself down, he has let us all down. We believe in people like Scott Harrison because we have to.

Because in housing schemes up and down the country - where drugs and drink have ripped the heart out of communities - there are kids out there who need to believe there is a way out.

They might not all want to step into the ring and get their face punched for a living. Whatever you may think of Harrison, it takes real courage to do that.

But it was Harrison's courage that set him apart, and it is that belief that kids need.

He had a God-given talent as a boxer - living proof that, with sheer hard work and determination, you can follow your dreams no matter where you come from.

There are kids with drunken or junkie parents who have lost all sense of expectation.

They have no respect for authority and they will listen to no one telling them how to take responsibility for their lives.

Somewhere inside of them there could be a talent and an ability to be anything they want - but they have nobody to look up to.

A man like Scott Harrison, who punched above his weight, could have reached out to those youngsters.

In fact, he had a duty to reach out to them. And he failed. Because with talent comes responsibility - and Harrison boozed it all away in countless lost weekends, flashing his money and scrapping in bars.

Within a few weeks of winning the world title, Harrison was swanning around pubs lighting his fags with a £10 note.

He had an entourage of hangers- on and parasites happily feeding off his success. And, of course, the obligatory big house in Spain.

There, he should have been able to enjoy his glory days in peace and sunshine, well away from the pressures of the goldfish-bowl life back in Glasgow.

But no. In the little village where he owned his plush villa, Harrison was just a dishevelled, drunken Scots brawler who bounced in and out of bars all through the night - until he earned himself a jail sentence.

Of course, he would tell you he is haunted by demons and his only escape was through drink.

They all do that. Cemeteries are littered with the graves of sporting heroes who self-destructed just like him.

I don't buy any of it. There were people queuing up to try to keep Harrison out of the gutter.

His dad Peter, who trained his son and proudly took him all the way to the top of the world.

His mum Agnes, whose heart is broken as she watches her 31-year-old boy disintegrate before her eyes.

Harrison was given the best help money could buy - including stints in rehab at The Priory and countless counselling sessions.

Yet as soon as he was back on the streets, he was drunk before the day was out.

Yes, Harrison has a drink problem and it fuels his depression. But there comes a point when you simply have to take responsibility for yourself.

You sink or swim. Life goes on around you. And, at the end of the day, nobody gives a damn about you except yourself. That is where Harrison is now.

And the truth is, precious few people will remember him five years from now. He will just be another drunk at the end of the bar, telling anyone who will listen that he used to be a world champ.

There was a time when his courage was an inspiration to us all. I hope he finds it again, before it really is too late.

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