Willy Collins: King of Sheffield – A Life Written in Blood, Iron and Stone

Born Into a World of Hard Edges

Willy “Big Willy” Collins grew up in a traveller family where loyalty, noise and conflict lived under the same roof. One of sixteen children, he learned early that weakness was dangerous. When the Collins family settled in Sheffield, the city didn’t soften him. It sharpened him. Poverty, pride and constant pressure shaped a boy who was not simply raised — he was forged.

The Long Walk to Wincobank

Willy found direction at Brendan Ingle’s legendary Wincobank boxing gym. The building was old, battered and soaked in the sweat of fighters like Naseem Hamed, Johnny Nelson and Ricky Hatton. Every corner carried the scent of leather, iron and fear.

Willy often ran miles across Sheffield just to reach it. By the time he walked through the doors, he had already pushed his body to its limit. Ingle’s coaching was harsh but transformative — footwork with rhythm, strikes with purpose, discipline with no excuses.

Willy wasn’t the fastest or flashiest, but he was relentless. Every punch he threw carried the weight of a childhood spent surviving more than living.

Bare Knuckles and Broken Rules

Outside the ring, Willy Collins built a reputation that travelled far beyond Sheffield. In traveller communities, bare-knuckle fighting wasn’t just a tradition — it was law, order and currency. Fights took place behind pubs, on wasteland, or in empty car parks where grudges were settled with fists.

Standing 6 ft 2 in, Willy was known as a man few wanted to face. Not because he sought violence, but because he could end it quickly. Opponents often described him as “a storm in human form.” Every fight felt like he was releasing something deeper — anger, grief, or memories that refused to stay buried.

The Night Everything Changed

In 2002, tragedy struck at the Afro-Caribbean Club on Spital Hill, Sheffield. Willy and his brother Anthony “Marty Boy” Collins became caught in a violent confrontation. Both were stabbed. Willy suffered serious wounds to his chest and lungs. Anthony collapsed beside him and died at the scene.

The man later convicted was local drug dealer Mark Lloyd Roberts, who pleaded guilty to murder and wounding with intent. The event scarred the traveller community and changed Willy forever. The loss of his brother left a shadow in his eyes that never faded.

A Man Built on Loss and Loyalty

After the stabbing, Willy became harder but not heartless. He married Kathleen young and built a home overflowing with family, arguments, celebrations and noise. He fathered nine children and acted as a second father to many more.

To some he was a protector. Others, an enforcer. But to his family, he was the unshakeable pillar they leaned on.

The Quiet Death of a Loud Man

In July 2020, during a trip to Majorca for Kathleen’s birthday, Willy collapsed unexpectedly. A ruptured stomach ulcer caused internal bleeding. After years surviving violence, danger and hardship, he was taken by something silent and unseen.

Sheffield Mourns the King of Sheffield

When his body returned home, Sheffield witnessed one of its largest funerals. Mourners filled the streets as a gold-plated coffin arrived on a monster truck pulled by white horses. Smoke bombs lit the city in colour. To some it seemed excessive. To his family, anything less would have been disrespectful.

Famous names paid tribute: Tyson Fury, Billy Joe Saunders, Kell Brook and singer Shayne Ward among others. People from boxing, music and Traveller culture honoured the man many called the King of Sheffield.

The Monument That Defied the Dead

Two years later, Willy’s grave became one of the most talked-about memorials in Britain. A 37-ton Carrara marble structure, complete with life-size statues, angels, spotlights and even a jukebox, rose above Shiregreen Cemetery.

It became a shrine, a landmark and a lightning rod for controversy. Local authorities claimed it broke cemetery regulations. The Collins family insisted it was a rightful tribute. Tensions escalated as the family vowed to fight any attempt to alter or remove the memorial.

Fury, Loyalty and a Legacy That Wouldn’t Fade

The monument stood as a symbol of loyalty and defiance. Arguments erupted, accusations of discrimination were raised, and the cemetery itself became a battleground between grief and governance.

Whether admired or criticised, the monument forced Sheffield to confront the complicated legacy of Willy Collins — a man who generated noise in life and in death.

The Ghost in Sheffield’s Shadow

Today, the memorial still stands. It glows at night. It draws visitors, supporters and critics. And it preserves the story of Willy Collins: a fighter shaped by hardship, a father built on loyalty, and a man whose shadow still stretches across the city he called home.

For many, he remains the King of Sheffield — a legend written in blood, iron and stone.