JOHN COONEY was 28 years old. In other words, he was a young man still within the parameters of his physical prime. Now he is dead.

Climbing into the ring in Belfast on February 2, the super-featherweight Celtic champion had every reason to believe that the future was bright. After all, the popular Northern Irishman’s boxing career was once again in the ascendancy after being out of action for a year with a hand injury, he was engaged to be married to his fiancee Emmaleen, and this defence of his Celtic title against Welshman Nathan Howells, if he came through as he was favoured to, would pave the way for more lucrative opportunities in the sport that he loved.

The cruel vicissitudes of life had a different fate mapped out for him, however, to the extent that a week after losing to Howells by stoppage in the ninth round, Cooney was pronounced dead from a catastrophic head injury at Belfast’s Royal Victoria Hospital. It marks yet another ring fatality and along with it, a shuddering reminder of the inherent dangers of a sport which amounts to organised violence and unarmed combat.

The usual forensic analysis to try to arrive at whys and wherefores involved in Cooney’s death have been undertaken. Did he have an underlying health condition that went undiscovered and undiagnosed? Did he and his team undertake a dangerous weight loss regimen with making the requisite super-featherweight 130lbs limit, to thus weaken his punch resistance? Was he overtrained? Dehydrated?

All of the above questions and more have been asked and looked at by everyone involved.

According to the head of the British Boxing Board of Control, Robert Smith: “He [John Cooney] wouldn’t have been in the ring if everything wasn’t in order. And everything was in order — his check weights, his medicals. The scans are there to highlight any problems in the future, and it should go without saying there was nothing on them. It was an acute injury. You can do as many checks as you like prior to a bout, but they’re not going to forewarn of an acute injury.”

This is simply not good enough from the supposed custodian of the sport in the UK. Of course boxing, like mountain climbing or rugby, cannot be made completely safe or devoid of risk. This we know. But can it be made “safer” than it is at present. And if so, how?

With this goal in mind, the starting point for such an endeavour must by necessity begin with the sport’s prevailing culture. The loose bandying around of words such as “warrior” occlude rather than enlighten. People involved in the sport talk about fighters “going out on their shields,” which seeks to glorify a given fighter going on past the point of exhaustion and injury. This silliness has to change. MMA fighters have the option of “tapping out” when such a point is reached in a contest, boxers do not and are reliant on a trainer or referee to save them from themselves.

Too many trainers are not qualified to occupy such a vital role, one that sees them with the responsibility for a young man or woman’s health. As things stand, literally anybody can proclaim themselves a trainer of fighters and begin doing so right away. Football coaches are required to undertake a prolonged period of learning, both practical and theoretical, before being allowed to apply for coaching positions in that sport. Why not putative boxing coaches?

The variables and risks involved dictate that such a structured training programme in boxing to ensure that head coaches are qualified to be such is now long overdue. Boxing coaches should have a basic knowledge of training methods, nutrition, recovery, hydration and of course first aid. They need to understand that the arcane and dangerous stance towards making weight — “boiling down to be strong at the weight” — must be discarded in the name of sports science and fighter safety. Far too many fighters are still climbing into the ring depleted of glycogen and fuel. This has to stop and stop now, on pain of said fighter and trainer being suspended.

This is not to apportion fault of blame to Cooney’s trainer or his team for the tragedy that befell him. But on a general basis such measures need to be introduced as a matter of course in order to reduce the risks. Similarly, every active professional fighter should be mandated to undergo a full medical check every three to four months to ensure that no underlying conditions have developed. MRI scans, bloods, urinalysis — all of it should be part of a fighter’s schedule, funded by the board in conjunction with the sport’s promoters and various broadcasters.

What cannot be considered seriously is banning the sport entirely, of which many out there believe there should. This would merely push the sport underground to the detriment of all. If you want to ban boxing, first ban the relative poverty that has traditionally provided it with its meaning and popularity. Again and again boxing does far more good than harm. It helps to shape and mould the characters of young men and increasingly women in positive ways. Fitness, self-discipline, self-esteem, positive self-reinforcement — each of the aforementioned are advanced in boxing gyms all over the world.

No fighter enters a ring believing that death or permanent damage awaits. As such, the claim that Cooney died doing what he loved rings decidedly hollow. At just 28 he was a young man whose life was cruelly cut short. Howells should be spared any blame. He will doubtless be crushed at his opponent’s demise. It is something he will carry with him forever; the knowledge that punches he delivered that night ended in another man’s death.

I love boxing but will always remain conflicted as to why.