I met Vinny Mitchell only once, very briefly.

It was well over a decade ago, he was late and hurriedly clambering out from the back seat of a small hatchback outside Islington Boxing Club. His brother Kevin, who had just emerged himself, was one of Britain’s best young fighters at the time. He pointed out his younger sibling as the car door swung open, “Don’t worry about me, Vinny will be the next champion”.

I was spending the afternoon with Kevin and fellow boxer Colin Lynes for a community event organised in conjunction with Arsenal. I can’t remember the exact details but the Gunners were playing West Ham that weekend so we decided to bring in fighters representing each club.

I knew Colin, who was a staunch Gooner, but we needed a ‘Hammer’. Mitchell’s blood ran claret and blue so he was the obvious choice but the club needed convincing about his profile given he was ‘only’ Commonwealth champion at the time.

I distinctly recall a meeting in which I pushed his case saying: “He’s the best prospect in Britain behind Amir Khan. He’ll definitely fight for a world title but he may not win it”.

Turns out I was right.

Arsenal players Theo Walcott and Justin Hoyte had agreed to get involved in the event. The two footballers and fighters smiled their way through pictures in the ring and then outside the massive red prefab-style building that houses the club.

Barring the anxiety that preceded the tardy Mitchell brothers tearing around the corner before coming to a skidding halt on the gravel car park, it was a relatively standard community event at Arsenal. But memories came flooding back this week when I listened to Tris Dixon’s excellent Boxing Life Stories podcast. There are 70 episodes but Mitchell’s was the first one I selected. Following that afternoon, I must admit I had a soft spot for him.

Largely, this was because of his generosity of spirit. After the shoot, he stayed around for ages taking the young fighters on the pads. He seemed to be interested in the kids, offering advice and trying to improve every single one. Afterwards, he spoke with an almost child-like enthusiasm about the youngsters, something you rarely see at events like these.

Growing up on the London-side of Essex, I was at school with many boys like Kevin Mitchell; fundamentally good-hearted lads whose lives had been complicated by bad environments. Not that Mitchell portrayed himself that way on the podcast. He told tales of years and title chances thrown away on a heady tide of alcohol and escorts. He lost discipline, made bad decisions and fought bad fights. Lesser boxers than he have won multiple world titles but Mitchell would fail at the final hurdle four times, they would be the only defeats of his career.

In a matter-of-fact manner, he recalled stories of leading the police (them in meat-wagons and helicopters, him in a smart car) on a high-speed chase across East London, lamenting missing out on millions through bad contracts and ending up in a flat with multiple dependents.

These were huge highs and sullen lows but, somehow, both were carried lightly. Even if he was concealing some of his emotions, he certainly seemed unburdened by self-pity.

His major career regret was leaving Tony Sims, a venerable coach who would ring Mitchell nightly to keep him focused. It is a luxury Mitchell now affords his own fighters these days as he tries to build his own stable. I remember him talking about creating his own gym as he trained the Islington kids that day.

I am not entertaining a romantic notion of Mitchell and the sport of boxing. I am sure many he scrapped with on drunken nights would curse his name. But his sort of story is commonplace in what is incongruously called the fight ‘game’. Success and failure seem infinitely more extreme than in the likes of football, cricket and rugby. The discipline required for long-term achievement is much higher. It is so damn difficult that few youngsters from wealthy families go near a pro career so most boxers are literally fighting their way out of poverty. They have to defeat their circumstances outside the ring well before they take on anyone inside it. No wonder there are so many sad tales of fighters in later life.

Despite everything, Mitchell’s manner suggested he refuses to look at himself that way, even when his story took a tragic turn last April. His brother Vinny did not become a champion. He retired in 2010 with a record of 12 wins and one defeat. He was killed in a road traffic accident and his older brother is now helping to look after his children.

Days after the accident, heavyweight champion Anthony Joshua phoned the cash-strapped Mitchell and offered to cover the funeral costs. Billy Joe Saunders, another boxer with a chequered outward persona, also opened his wallet.

Mitchell added: “These are the stories no-one talks about”. It was this remark that prompted me to write this piece and highlight, that amid the talent, rancor, regret and self-destruction that often follows fighting men, there is normally a rich seam of humanity.

As Mitchell exemplified to the full that day.