It’s been announced that Scotland’s Ricky Burns has gone bankrupt after a legal battle with his former promoter Frank Warren.

The former super featherweight and lightweight world champion departed Warren’s promotional stable for Eddie Hearn’s Matchroom at the end of 2013.

Given that he had endured an entire year of inaction prior to making the switch, a year in which two scheduled fights had been cancelled, leaving him considerably out of pocket, most would consider that Burns was within his “moral” right to seek another promoter.

Here we see a glaring lacuna in the protection afforded professional fighters, even world champions, when it comes to the danger of fights being cancelled.

Surely in 2015 a fighter’s contract should contain a safety clause to ensure they are not left completely out of pocket in the event. Surely promoters should be obliged to organise some sort of insurance in this regard.

After all, a fighter operating at the highest level incurs considerable training expenses in preparing for a fight, which combined with the physical torture he puts himself through makes a cancellation or postponement doubly devastating.

Burns was under both a promotional and managerial contract with Warren, who when the fighter left to sign with Hearn, took legal action.

The result of this action was that Burns found himself lumbered with debts of over £400,000 consisting of legal fees and £170,000 in outstanding commission that the judge decided was due to Warren.

According to press reports, Burns went bankrupt as a consequence with assets totalling just £228.

No-one is arguing over the legality of the action Warren took. Contracts are legally binding documents and if a fighter is in breach of said contract then legal action is entitled to follow.

But there is a difference between legal justice and natural justice, isn’t there? And when it comes to young men from working-class backgrounds embarking on a career in boxing as a route out of poverty for themselves and their families — in the process risking their health and even their lives — justice of the natural kind undoubtedly weighs heavily in their favour.

Just consider what Burns has gone through in the course of a professional career which began 14 years ago in 2001.

The 31-year-old has had 42 fights — losing four and drawing one. Many of his fights have been wars in which he’s absorbed the kind of punishment your average brick wall could not withstand.

And on one memorable occasion, against Mexico’s Ray Beltran in 2013, he fought most of the fight with a broken jaw.

In other words, this is a fighter who’s been to hell and back in the ring.

His success was the product of years of dedication, involving countless hours of roadwork, sparring and diet to get into and stay in fighting shape.

He’s also had to contend with the insecurity and uncertainty that is a boxer’s lot as he works his way through the ranks towards that elusive world title shot, knowing that any chance of financial security is inextricably linked to getting his hands on a belt.

It is a despicable injustice that at the end of such a long and brutal journey, Burns finds himself bankrupt.

It highlights not just the precarious existence of a professional boxer but also the lack of a strong governing body to look after their interests.

It just can’t be right that a fighter’s fate and future depends on just two or three promoters, vulnerable to their ability to secure them regular fights and make sure they are paid.

On the other side of the spinning coin that decided the fate of Burns in his legal battle with Warren sits those who advised him to break his contract and seek pastures new.

They must take responsibility for having done so. Clearly the Coatbridge fighter was badly served in this regard.

Boxing promoters are businessmen. They are in the game to make money and in the process often take considerable financial risks.

Indeed in many cases a promoter’s survival can depend on the success of a single event. But those financial risks pale in comparison to the risks a fighter takes every time he steps into the ring.

Burns’s plight calls to mind the searing truth of words spoken by Smokin’ Joe Frazier. “Boxing is the only sport you can get your brain shook, your money took and your name in the undertaker book.”