As men, they were chalk and cheese, as fighters both were of the highest order. Jackie Brown and Johnny King. Between them they were British, European and World champions. Manchester's and England's finest, but maybe even more important, the pride of Collyhurst. Both were born on those Collyhurst streets, they trained together in Harry Fleming's gym on Paley street. A broken-down, decrepit building where the idea of a cool off was to have a bucket of ice cold water thrown over you, and for sparing a small part of the room simply roped off. But from such small Mancunian acorns rose two boxers who went far beyond the Collyhurst ropes in their ring battles. Until, finally, they fought each other, not once but twice. Fights that ripped Manchester apart. You was either with Jackie or Johnny, no neutrals. Once good friends, blood brothers even, but as both grew into their mid-twenties, won titles, they became men of a world savaged beyond all measures by what surrounded them. Ravaging poverty, crippling unemployment, the slow, but sudden in the north, attempt by the Fascist (Blackshirts) to make their stand and stake a claim on Manchester ground. Oswald Mosley came like an unwanted boil on the backside, but was dealt with at Belle Vue. Jackie and Johnny had a score to settle and there was only one place to sort it. So, here we go. The magnificent, if poignant tale of Jackie Brown and Johnny King. Their rise and their fall. Nobody fights harder or crueller than former brothers as was witnessed during those vicious, merciless bouts in the Battle of Collyhurst Road.