HOME AND AWAY: BRENDAN INGLE Johnny Wattersontalks to the legendary boxing trainer about his work with the less well off in his hometown of Sheffield

BRENDAN INGLE tells the story. He walks into the room and shouts over to the Irish Boxing Union president, Mel Christle. "Hey, Mel, I've become a Protestant." Christle looks over and repeats, "A Protestant?" Ingle replies: "Yes, there's a church right next door to me." Christle smiles back. "Ah, Brendan, so it's a church of convenience." "You've got to tell that," says Ingle in his Irish, Sheffield accent.

The man from Dublin's Irishtown, to whom Britain this year awarded an MBE, loves Ireland, its humour and wit, loves Sheffield and its people from around Wincobank and his beloved gym, St Thomas's.

He loves his Protestants, his Catholics, his Muslims and his heathens. Ingle loves miscreants and trouble-makers. He loves thieves and conmen and kidnappers, people with drink problems, drug problems and domestic problems. He loves history and politics, philosophy and boxing.

He eschews tea and coffee, alcohol, swearing, pornography, violence, gambling and meat. He once confronted Naseem Hamed, then one of the most famous boxers in the world, one whom Ingle had nurtured from a kid in St Thomas's gym into one of the most exciting talents in the world and a world champion. He says Naz came up to him and said: "Brendan, you don't drink or smoke or gamble . . . you could become a fantastic Muslim."

"I said to Naz, 'Why don't you become a Muslim?' He said, 'What do you mean'? I said, 'You don't wash five times a day, go to the mosque or pray five times a day. He said he's too busy. I said, 'Naz, you get on your phone and you cause trouble all over Sheffield, all over Britain, all over Europe, all over the world. People ring me and tell me what you do.' I said, 'Is that how it works? You become a Muslim when it suits and I become a Christian when it suits?'

"Over here there are mosques all over the place. They are all doing Ramadan. I've done it for 20 years. It's a form of discipline. I used to do Lent. When Naz became world champion he became a nightmare. But no-one ever saw the best of him. That's the shame. He used to stand Junior Witter on his head but Witter has won more titles even though it was Naz who was brilliant and exciting."

Ingle wouldn't live anywhere other than his modest home across the road from the gym that has made his name. Hamed, Johnny Nelson, Herol Graham and most recently the WBC light-welterweight champion Junior "The Hitter" Witter are products of Ingle's idiosyncratic training methods. He has never been in the mainstream. Too much attitude. A cage rattler.

Ingle is the most outspoken trainer in Britain and it's one of the reasons there is a bronze plaque outside the town hall in Sheffield recognising his contribution to city life. He's on the after-dinner circuit too, where his mix of radical social views and insights into the top end of professional boxing is in demand.

"If you are around the table talking, you've got a chance," he says. "I've said it to the boxers. Have a good attitude, education and respect for yourself.

"I sit down and talk to anyone. I was up in a mosque in Bradford and said it's no good being a Muslim on Friday and not being a good person the rest of the week.

"I have people with drink problems. I have someone getting off drugs, getting beat up at home. You've got to be very tolerant, but you can't have people walk over you. I've had them all in the gym and they've been obnoxious. When they are I say to them, 'See that guy over there? Sit down with him and talk to him because he was worse than you are.'"

But they stay and they come back if they initially bridle at his in-your-face honesty.

His gym, for boys and girls, is famous but his name was made from not just turning out world champions but also being a visible presence around the courts of Sheffield and taking in unwanted strays, when few others would. He was voted one of the outstanding people in Sheffield and awarded an honorary degree from Sheffield Hallam and Sheffield University. He has come to embrace the working class north as closely as it has embraced him.

"I came here at 18 with nothing and if anyone had told me I'd have married an English woman who's a Prod and a conservative, I'd have said they were mad. It's the best thing I've ever done.

"I was a professional boxer for seven years and at its worst it's a dirty, rotten, horrible, vindictive game. My five kids watch it. They drifted out but they always came back. You hammer one another for 12 rounds and you shake hands with your eye cut. You pick yourself up."

Ingle has been going to the courts for 40 years. Instead of offenders going to jail, he speaks up on their behalf and many get probation simply because of his reputation and commitment. He works with the probation board and they know how he operates. He takes the youngsters to his gym in Wincobank and tries to motivate them, tries to inspire them with tough love.

No so long ago a young man walked into his gym and asked could he train. Ingle recognised him as one of his fighters that had disappeared some years before. His name was Richard. Ingle asked him where he had been.

"He was sentenced to 12 years in prison for kidnapping and extortion. He did six and then he completely disappeared," says Ingle.

"I said off course I remember you. Where have you been? He said he was embarrassed, embarrassed to come back. He's a super-heavyweight and he's won three fights."

Those three fights are more important to Ingle than the 12-year sentence. Richard may be no world beater but this is Ingle's gym, Ingle's world, where the start is often harder to reach than the end point.