Thread: Remembering a friend....

At the age of about 12 boxing found me. I was watching our black and white - TV bored as usual. They showed a replay of the Thrilla in Manilla at first I had no idea what the hell was going on but I was awestruck as these two guys gave every inch of their soul in a square ring. Frazier was the most scary guy I had ever seen it seemed like he was built to hurt another person and yet here was this Ali guy playing with him in the ring.

It was like a switch went on in my head and for the next two months all I did was ask my dad (R.I.P Dad I love you) about Ali, Frazier and boxing. I had no idea what it felt like to get punched or for your arms to be so tired from punching you can't lift them - I was just mesmerized by the fight. Eventually I said 'Dad I want to try it' Dad tried to talk me out of it for a while but I wouldn't let it go.

Eventually he took me to a friend of his Terry a gypsy traveller from Ireland who had fell in love with the North East and settled here. Terry had been a fighter in his day licensed and unlicensed he'd had a hard road but had a soft heart. Terry told my dad that many kids get excited after watching Ali on TV but soon lose their interest when they take a punch and realise that TV strips boxing of it's reality to the extent that you don't realise it's a fight with real sweat, real pain and real blood.

Terry had two sons who he had learnt the basics too. One two years older than me. He got the gloves out and after explaining some very basic instructions (keep your hands up and your face always forward) matched me against his son. It would be nice to say that I was a natural straight away and got the better of him - it would be nice but untrue. I fought like a 12 year old novice winging punches with no speed and no power and could not understand why nothing landed. Meanwhile son of Terry backed off blocked, smiled and hit me in the face a number of times.

After only a minute or two I had a fat lip and I was exhausted. Terry called a halt - dad took me home and thought that was that.....

The next weekend I went back to see Terry and pestered him with questions about Ali, Frazier and boxing.... Terry smiled and told me some stories about boxing that made me understand a little of what it was all about. I started visitng Terry every weekend and sometimes after school and he continued telling me stories and started teaching me the fundamentals of boxing. First the jab... which I spent every spare minute practicing... I'd jab at anything - thin air - the pillow on my bed even the rain. I learnt more and more and the sparring with his son became more and more of a competitiion rather than me missing and getting hit.

By the time I was 13 and a half he took me to a boxing club and then it began... Years later Terry was on the losing end of a fight he couldn't win - the Big C had him way behind on points and was closing in on a late rounds KO. I went to see him the day before he took the final 10 count. I looked at his hands - the knuckles raised and scarred a physical record of all the faces they had collided with - I couldn't look him in the eye.

I remember this day so clearly - he talked about the first day my dad brought me to him and he said he could tell then that I'd stick at boxing. I asked him how he knew and he said 'when you got hit - you never looked away and you never got mad. I could see in your eyes the frustration at not being able to do what you wanted to do but you never gave it up until I called a halt. I've watched you from that day and you've been like a sponge - you've taken everything in from me - from the trainers at the gym and from the people you've fought - you remind me of a feather weight from my youth in Ireland who we called Danny Boy.... at that point Terry had used as much energy as his body would allow for that day and he ushered me away. The next day Terry was dead and I lost the man responsible for making me a fighter. The nickname Danny Boy has remained with me till this day and the shamrock tattoo I have on my stomach is dedicated to his memory.

Today is the aniversary of his passing and I just thought I'd share with you how boxing found me and how I started a life long love affair with the sport.

I'm sorry to hear about your friend bro. Anniversaries can be really tough, I know that first hand. I'm afraid I don't really have anything constructive to say. As hollow as it may sound, I hope your friend is in a better place. Maybe him and my mom can somehow read this thread and chuckle at us for being sentimental.
It sounds like, if nothing else, he's left behind a tremendous legacy and that he led an interesting life. There are few (if any) things a person can do in this life that are more important than influencing a child in a positive way. My grandfather sent me this in an email today:
"One hundred years from now it will not matter what kind of car I drove, what kind of house I lived in, how much was in my bank account or what my clothes looked like. But the world may be a little better because I was important in the life of a child"

It's funny, when I was younger I thought the most important legacy one could leave behind was one of fame and glory, of adoration and superficial emulation. Now that I'm older and have lost the person closest to me, I realize how important the role we adults play in the lives of children. In my mind, there is nothing more important than that seemingly simplistic and natural act. As children, we may never even be aware of how much those "regular" people like our mothers, fathers, and friends have impacted our lives until it is far too late. I can only hope that someday my cousins can look back at "cousin Josh" and smile thinking about how I contributed in some small way to their becoming just and happy people.

Dude thats a really touching story
In honor of your friend,my own story
When I was 8 my mother had a nervous breakdown,I had to go live with my Aunt.
She worked as a barmaid,so she was constantly looking for babysitters for me,she didnt have alot of female friends,so it was allways a guy looking after me.
One of the guys she got to babysit me,was a boxer from the Blue Horizon. He didnt know what to do with me,so he figured he'd go to his strengths,and teach me how to box.
Funny story,he was trying to show me how fast a jab could be,cocky little bugger I am,I tried to slip and close. When I came to...........
I got shuffled all around as a kid,but I kept after it,even if all I could do was shadow box in my room,or while I was jogging.
When I should have been going in to Gold Gloves I discovered sins of the flesh,or in some cases chemical persuasion
Fast forward,clean and sober,working as a telemarketer,I get hired on the offseason to telemarket for a Printing Company
Turns out the lead pressman runs a Dojo,and was about to quit there. First he trained me how to run the press,so Id have a real trade.
And on the side,he taught me Ed Parker Ken-Po
I worked 12 years as a printer,allowing me to build my life with my wife.
Feur drove me to my last legal Tournament,I left with a Silver Medal in sparring,and a Gold in Katas
His Dojo was called The Travelling Fist
The gym I turn the lights on every night is called F.I.S.T.

Originally Posted by CFH

I'm sorry to hear about your friend bro. Anniversaries can be really tough, I know that first hand. I'm afraid I don't really have anything constructive to say. As hollow as it may sound, I hope your friend is in a better place. Maybe him and my mom can somehow read this thread and chuckle at us for being sentimental.
It sounds like, if nothing else, he's left behind a tremendous legacy and that he led an interesting life. There are few (if any) things a person can do in this life that are more important than influencing a child in a positive way. My grandfather sent me this in an email today:
"One hundred years from now it will not matter what kind of car I drove, what kind of house I lived in, how much was in my bank account or what my clothes looked like. But the world may be a little better because I was important in the life of a child"

It's funny, when I was younger I thought the most important legacy one could leave behind was one of fame and glory, of adoration and superficial emulation. Now that I'm older and have lost the person closest to me, I realize how important the role we adults play in the lives of children. In my mind, there is nothing more important than that seemingly simplistic and natural act. As children, we may never even be aware of how much those "regular" people like our mothers, fathers, and friends have impacted our lives until it is far too late. I can only hope that someday my cousins can look back at "cousin Josh" and smile thinking about how I contributed in some small way to their becoming just and happy people.

Wow nicley put mate , I have to spread some round though first,yet again.