THERE is no mistaking the noise of funeral horses in Bermondsey on a wet Tuesday morning. And the silence of the hundreds dressed in black outside the Fisher club.
Steve Hiser devoted his life to the Fisher and his funeral was all about the devotion of his fighting faithful. His exit from the church, carried high on the shoulders of the boxers he made in the gym, was breathtaking. A solitary clap, then another, a third and then the loudest possible standing ovation as the coffin slowly made its way smoothly down an aisle of grieving men and women.
