The Pugilist's Son

by Saurav Dutt

  Chapter III:Crash

  The gym was one flight up from a street that was mostly down. The stairway was dusty, dimly lit with the damp odour of sweat permeating through it. The steps sagged under years of high top laced up ring shoes. Ben Sloan could tell from the creaking if the legs coming up belonged to a fighter.

  “Billy…” Sloan smirked before his eyes caught Terry walking slowly behind him. He smiled to himself, recalling a time when it was Terry striding into the gym ready to spar. “Alright, Ben..?” Billy remarked, unzipping his jacket as he made his way inside. Terry looked on straight ahead, well aware that Ben was sizing him up and down, and as he moved into the expanse of the gym a proud smile came to his weathered face.

  Inside, about a dozen bodies were moving up and down, self-clocked, each boxer caught within their own dreams. He glanced at the two tall black men in the corner, skipping rope, turbaned in towels, wrapped in robes and stretching their sinewy bodies as beads of sweat trickled down their backs. There were floor-length mirrors and mattresses for exercising and rubdowns, and two speed bags banging like calypso drums, and three heavy bags swinging even between the rounds with the momentum of more than a decade of punches.

  Billy’s attention was turned towards the ring, there he saw two fighters ready to go for it. Their stances firm, their bodies tangled into preliminary positions, just waiting to pounce. “Look at that ferocity mate..” Terry beamed “it’s not like life, where shit happens and people can run and hide when they do you over…it’s just one on one, you and your opponent after the bell goes..you can’t hide, you have to face up to it, and there’s only one shot-that’s life, in there mate, in that ring, life is fair..”

  The bell sounded, and the fighters moved towards one another, jerking from side to side, hissing through their teeth as they punched, their feet shuffling quickly across the canvas as their sneakers slapped against the material. "Bounce, bounce!" the trainers yelled as Terry moved closer.

  “It’d have been good to have you seen you fight properly dad..” Billy nodded “..like now, now that I understand the craft”

  “Look at the way they move..” Terry smiled “..they’re quick, they’re showy..but there’s no heart. I could go in there and fuck them up”

  Billy noted Paul in the corner of the one of the fighters, as he glanced down and winked at him, his expression fell as he settled his eyes on Terry. They both locked their gazes upon the other, each of their faces becoming stonier with each moment that passed. Without batting an eyelid Terry moved closer, unzipping his windbreaker to reveal a tight white sports t-shirt. Within one move, he dropped the jacket and snatched up a pair of black boxing gloves sitting atop a folding chair. He glanced at it for a moment, caressing the sheen of its surface and called Billy over.

  “Get me some hand wraps will ya..” Terry snapped as he studied the gloves carefully, glancing up at Paul as he did so.

  “What for?” Billy shot back.

  “’Cause I’m getting the fuck in there is what” Terry scowled as he jerked his head from side to side, shuffling his shoulders as he began to stretch.

  “No you’re not..” Billy sighed, snatching the gloves away.

  “I’m gonna warm up” Terry paused as he moved closer to the ring, surveying the bob and weave of the taller fighter as he repeatedly escaped the lunging punches of his opponent “..and then we’re gonna spar”

  “I got a partner here..” Billy protested as he motioned for Paul to come nearer.

  “Yeah I know you do..” Terry scoffed “..and he kicked your fuckin’ arse didn’t he-I wanna see what’s going wrong with you, wanna see how much progress you’re making-you got a trial in a few weeks and you’re getting knocked out by some fucking cunt who can’t box for shit”

  “You said Adam was good..” Billy shook his head as he began jogging slowly on the spot, feeling the sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched his old man shadow boxing, his back turned to him.

  “He’s bollocks” Terry growled, snapping his right fist out and blocking with his left, only pausing as he noticed Paul was inching closer.

  “Watcha Terry..” Paul smiled as he turned towards Billy “..I thought you’d be in last night, what happened?”

  “My calf was feeling a bit sore, getting cramp a lot lately” Billy smiled as he motioned towards the changing rooms “wanna get ready? Adam about?”

  “Fuck Adam..” Terry cut in “..Billy’s doing a few rounds with his old man”

  “Maybe a bit later..” Paul smiled, noticing Terry was already breathing heavy as he met his stare “..Adam’s a good test for Billy, I think we should focus on that”

  “What’s been going wrong with him then?” Terry sighed “you been coaching my son or feeding him burgers? I heard he made a right prat of himself the other day”

  “Everybody’s entitled to an off moment” Paul replied, motioning for Billy to make his way to the changing room “and it won’t happen again”

  “I got a lot riding on him” Terry rasped, watching Billy walk off, his shoulders hunched, his feet dragging across the hard floor “..he’s just dropped his whole attitude lately, diet, sex, now this-it seems when I’m not here he doesn’t take anything seriously-this is a chance of a lifetime..I thought you’d be making him understand that, this train doesn’t come around many times Paul..you of all people should understand that”

  “You’re riding the boy too hard” Paul boomed, the sound of clattering punch bags and weights echoing around him “I’ve seen it before, when they’re pushing and pulling at the same time..not knowing whether they’re coming or going-you’re right, I’ve seen it too..but it’s not simply about ability Terry..”

  “Then what is it exactly?”

  “Heart… just who is it who wants to do the boxing here?”

  “You know..” Terry folded his arms, staring long and hard into Paul’s eyes “..I’ve always believed if a fighter isn’t bringing it in the ring, you have to look at the trainer..every fighter that’s fucked it all up, behind him is the trainer..whatever the reason is, the student sometimes fail because of the teacher”

  “Right..” Paul grimaced “..so what was your reason then?”

  “Fuck yourself..” Terry sneered “..let’s not get into that now shall we?”

  “Maybe we should..” Paul turned away with a grin “..it might save your son a lot of pain”