An uncomfortable courtroom shifted collectively in their seats this week as Steve Collins, former World Champion boxer, broke down in a witness-box and sobbed.
Here was the man who twice out-boxed Chris Eubank to become world super middleweight champion. The man who brought Nigel Benn to his knees. The man who had risen to the challenge when Barry Hearn, his former manager, and his company Matchroom Ltd, announced they were sueing him for breach of contract in the High Court. The Irishman with the big fighting heart. Steve Collins, Celtic Warrior.
Mr Justice O'Sullivan adjourned the case for a few minutes. As Collins left the box, red-eyed and clearly perturbed, those assembled had an opportunity to reflect on the two contradictory sides of the former boxer.
One side is well known. It is the combative, aggressive, show-stopping fighter. Collins the exhibitionist who thought nothing of turning up at press conferences with an Irish wolfhound in one hand and a shillelagh in the other.
Steve Collins is also a man to whom tears come easily. He sobbed when he announced his retirement in October this year.
Collins has spent his years as a world champion surrounding himself with equally well-known and equally strong male personalities such as Tony Quinn, comedian Brendan O'Carroll, Liam Gallagher of Oasis and actor Mickey Rourke.
It was the memory of another strong personality, his late father, former boxer Paschal Collins, on the third day of gruelling cross-examination, that precipitated the frustrated tears in court. His father, who had introduced him to the world of boxing suffered a heart attack and died when his son was 17.
Counsel for Barry Hearn, Mr Rory Brady SC, had asked Collins to read out the acknowledgements page in the book, Celtic Warrior, written in conjunction with sports journalist Paul Howard. Sections of the book which allegedly incriminate Collins are being used by Hearn's legal team to prove their case.
Collins read the first three sentences which thanked his wife, Gemma, and their three children for their support throughout his career. He stopped. He looked at the floor. He grimaced. He closed the book and put it down. Then put his hand over his face and started to cry. We never heard the words which reduced Steve Collins to tears. They referred to "my late father Paschal, and my mother, Colette, for happiness and security throughout my wonderful childhood".
When he re-entered the courtroom some minutes later he had regained his composure. But he looked over at his former manager Barry Hearn and told him: "You should be ashamed of yourself, Barry. Honest to God."
In the intense pressure of the boxing ring Steve Collins has in the past been hailed as a hero. But pressure of another kind, the kind exerted by experienced barristers using big words and complicated legalese, proved too much for him at times.
Giving evidence this week he was often unsure, asking Hearn's counsel to repeat questions. "You twist my words," he told Mr Brady time and again, clearly confused. "I'll have to think about this, he would say, you are an educated man." Once when Brady referred to the "pomp and ceremony" that accompanied Collins's entry into the ring at Millstreet in Cork, Collins said he didn't understand what he meant. When Brady put it to him that he was lying about certain aspects of his case Collins was indignant: "Don't call me a liar," he said. "I am taking it very personal. Give it over . . ."
Yesterday, Steve Collins's cross-examination came to an end, a development one can assume was greeted by the former boxer with considerable relief.