Ian Darke has the toughest job in televised sport. Not only does he have to conduct the post-fight interview with Naseem Hamed, he also has to fight the impulse to box the young upstart around the ears.

This cannot be easy when your brain has been turned to guacamole by a display of flashing lights, laser beams, and holograms to make The Strip at Las Vegas look like Clitheroe High Street, and you have spent the evening watching young men receive general approbation for solving their problems by knocking seven bells out of each other. I felt Darke going a little twitchy after Naz's victory at Manchester's Nynex Arena on Saturday, and I think his fist may have clenched around the microphone when the Prince - or His Royal Highness of Boxing, as he was introduced by the MC Michael Buffer - replied to one of Darke's fairly anodyne questions with: "What ya sayin', Curly?"

If this was a reference to the fact that Darke's formerly luxuriant mane is thinning a little, it was an extraordinarily personal one (I do not recall Muhammad Ali ever calling Harry Carpenter "speccy"), and gave the commentator the perfect excuse to floor Naz with a left hook, especially since the Sheffield boxer had rather unwisely dropped his guard at that particular point.

Actually, I have no evidence that Darke is a proficient boxer, but he has the look of a pugnacious light-heavyweight who may have taken a punch or two, and his knowledge of boxing technique seems fairly complete. But he let the moment pass, and allowed HRH to return to his familiar mix of swagger - "Did ya see them knock-dahns, the wicked accuracy of mah punches?" - and humility - "I thank Allah and my dad".

Perhaps Darke would have been more inclined to give Naz what for had he climbed into the ring to interview him - Harry Carpenter, I seem to recall, used to squeeze through the ropes and take his chances - but these days the commentators stay put and the boxers go over to them to dispense their post-bout wisdom, which speaks volumes about the change in the relationship between television and boxing.

At some levels I am sure boxing is still a noble art and a valuable discipline for young men who might otherwise turn to violent crime (copyright Pat O'Brien, 1938), but I cannot be alone in thinking that these nights of world championship boxing have about as much relevance outside the world of satellite and cable television as the World Wrestling Federation. Any residual doubts on this point were dispelled by the fact that among the first to congratulate Naz after his victory were two executives of America's Home Box Office which has paid about £11 million for the TV rights to Naz's fights.

Not that much confirmation was needed. I am no expert on matchmaking but all three bouts at the Nynex seemed to have been arranged on the same crude cartoon-show basis - a slow, dogged trier against a "showman", that is a boxer with a better haircut and a more elaborate light show.

Chris Eubank has spent a second night in a Manchester hospital recovering from his savage but unsuccessful challenge for Carl Thompson's World Boxing Organisation cruiserweight title, adds John Rawling. The battered features of the 31year-old Lord of Brighton told their own story; of stepping up two weight divisions for his championship opportunity. He had been dragged into the toughest fight of his 13-year professional career.

Eubank, who had a brain scan which revealed no damage, received treatment for the severely bruised and swollen tissue around his left eye which left him with impaired vision for more than half the fight.

The Royal Infirmary, inundated by calls from well-wishers, issued a news release at 6 p.m. last night saying Eubank had completed his medical tests and left. According to close friends, however, he wanted to be left in peace to rest his aching body and remained in his hospital bed.

Eubank floored Thompson in the fourth round but repeatedly backed off when he had the champion in trouble, allowing him precious seconds to regain his composure and survive for a narrow points-win.

It has been a familiar Eubank trait since he left Michael Watson with devastating brain injuries after their second meeting in September 1991.