Somehow, Frank Warren chuckles as he recalls the moment a bullet shattered his ribs, ripped through his lung, and burst out the side of his torso. “I could feel this gurgling, like I was drowning,” he remembers. “All this blood was coming up.”
Warren was 37 when he was shot on a cold November night in Barking, outside one of his boxing shows. Just days removed from his 34th anniversary of losing half a lung, the promoter sits across from me in his office in Hertfordshire. Warren, now 71, is in significantly greater health and comfort this afternoon, as he relaxes in a brown leather chair at Queensberry Promotions’ headquarters. Still, he transports us back to east London, 1989, with ease.
