SEVENTY years ago an American, Harry Greb, ruled the middle-weight division. Compulsive womaniser and celebrated hellraiser, he was one of the hardest men ever to set foot in a boxing ring. So much so, that even as a middle-weight, he was the only man ever to score a professional win over the heavyweight, Gene Tunney.

While Steve Collins's personal life does not match the hedonistic excesses of Greb, perhaps there is more than a passing similarity within the ropes. And Collins, in all probability, would have agreed with Greb's blunt assessment of boxing and his place in it when the Pittsburgh champion said: "Prizefighting ain't the noblest of arts, and I ain't its noblest artist." The game is about winning - by whatever means necessary.

As the Irishman prepares to defend his WBO super-middleweight title for the sixth time in London on Saturday against the European champion, Frederic Seillier of France, no-one suggests he should mix it with the heavyweights, although you get the feeling he would not necessarily shirk the challenge.

The man who dismantled the' flagging careers of Chris Eubank and Nigel Benn most certainly does not lack self-belief: "I'm on a roll, I feel as if I'm made of steel or rock. Even if Seillier hits me, the punches will just bounce off. Right now, I'm feeling unstoppable. He's brave and durable, but I can't see,, the fight going the Collins's fights are not aesthetically pleasing; but he gets the job done, effectively and if necessary brutally. He is a more than competent boxer with one of the best chins in the business, but crucially he can also be one of the nastiest' brawlers when the chips are down. Ask for an informed opinion off his fighting attributes and the answers are well nigh unanimous. Louis Acaries, Seillier's manager and promoter, was a top-class middleweight and he recognises quality. With a Gallic shrug of his shoulders he said: "Collins is a hard man, very tough. It will be difficult for Frederic."

At 32, the same age as Seillier, Collins is in his prime. Charming and articulate outside the ring, he seems happiest when speaking about his wife, Gemma, their two young children and the luxurious house he has built them in one of Dublin's leafier suburbs. Not for him Harry Greb's two hookers a night.

"My family means everything to me, and boxing has enabled me to provide for them for the rest of their lives. But this is business, my job, and I have to block them out of my mind.

"I shall have had four fights in 10 months, which means I have hardly left training camp. Being away from my family is like being in prison and it gives me all the aggressive attitude I need."

He has followed his established routine, training in a gymnasium in Jersey. The island atmosphere, according to Collins, is an ideal antidote to the inherent stresses of boxing.

Motivation could be Collins's greatest problem. He cherishes the dream of a multi-million-dollar unification contest against the holder of the IBF's version of the title Roy Jones.

"That is the fight I want, but I have to beat the likes of Seillier to prove I can win it. Frank Warren is prepared to promote it, but it seems Jones isn't interested. They call him the best pound-for-pound fighter in the world, but he's taking easy money. Perhaps I shall have to go round to his house or find a way to humiliate him in public. I shall have to shame him into it.', Brave words from a man who revels in his Celtic Warrior nickname. Even Harry Greb might have given this tough Irishman his grudging respect.