by Saurav Dutt
*
He moved forward uneasily, and as he did so he could see his father watching him like a hawk. He breathed in and turned away to the left, avoiding a glancing blow. He looked across at Paul and could see the scowl written over every crevice of his gnarled, weathered face. “Tighter..tighter” he seemed to be mouthing but Billy could only hear what his father was barking, each word reverberating within his skull like a sledgehammer smashing into his cranium.
“SNAP!” Terry remonstrated with a sharp jab, his eyes enlarged, the veins in his neck taut as he screamed louder and louder.
“SNAP! SNAP!”
With each instruction Billy flashed out a jab, danced away, ducked his head but he knew his footwork was sloppy, the strength in his shots feeble. He wanted to be anywhere but in the middle of that ring.
“You’ve got Samuels a week today and you’re fighting like a fuckin’ fairy!” Terry growled “now take your thumb out and move, MOVE, SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!”
Billy turned to his side, watching his sparring partner paw at him as he bobbed around his arm, slapping a loose jab across his back. The more he moved, the sicker he felt, an impending sense of doom enveloping him like a mist as he heard his father’s voice increase in volume. At that moment, he dropped his guard, let his arms fall to his side and slouched back against the ropes.
“What you doing?” Paul yelled out, his bald head gleaming under the hot lights above. As he leapt into the ring, Billy saw his father move closer to the apron. “I don’t want to go on..” Billy groaned, turning his back and bowing his head as he stared across the expanse of the gym.
“Get to the changing room” Paul leaned in, whispering closely in his ear “Get changed and get out of here; if you’re wasting your time here, you’re wasting mine..”
“You coulda told me..” Billy murmured, avoiding eye contact as he leant against the ropes “..coulda told me this was beyond me”
“Nothing was beyond you son” Paul shook his head “whatever it is telling you you’re not good enough..that has nothing to do with how you fight”
Just as Paul began to turn away he saw Terry glaring at him, his mouth hung open in astonishment. “What the fuck’s going on?” Terry snarled “get him back to it before he starts to cool down”
“I’m not sparring no more..” Billy called out, feeling his pulse quicken, his heart thunder through his chest as he wrestled off his head guard and let it drop to the floor “I’m not doing this”
“A week today…” Terry threw his hands up as he leapt up onto the apron “a week today and you’re sulking like a fuckin’ five year old”
“I don’t give a shit about a week today” Billy shot back “or two weeks, or two months, or two years..I don’t wanna do this dad…this is your dream, it’s not mine..you understand me?”
Tossing the gloves over the top rope, Billy bowed underneath the ropes and leapt down to the floor. He heard the sound of shuffling feet, the pounding of punch bags and the thrashing of skipping ropes come to a pause as he made his way towards the changing room. The sense of elation and relief was overtaken by the pounding of his heart as he heard somebody approaching behind him.
As he yanked the door to the changing room open, he was surprised to see Paul standing there, a clipboard clutched against his chest and small rimmed spectacles balanced delicately on the bridge of his nose.
“All you have to say is one word” Paul nodded “and I’ll let the trial judges know you’re not taking part..one signature, one tick of the box, that’s all it takes”
“He does my head in..” Billy sighed, staring at the papers momentarily before glancing up “I can’t fucking breathe..”
“Whatever happened to your dad in the ring..” Paul paused as he heard footsteps shuffling towards them “..has got nothing to do with why you’re here”
“Yeah it has, it’s got everything to do with it” Billy cursed under his breath as he noticed Terry now stood before them, his shoulders heaving up and down as he glowered at both of them.
“Alright what is it” Terry demanded “what’s going on here? Paul what the fuck you been telling him? I should have known it, you’re about as a good a trainer as you were a fighter, you’re about as fucking useful as an ashtray on a bleedin’ motorcycle”
“Don’t blame him” Billy cut in “this is nothing to do with him”
“Listen son” Paul sighed as he moved towards the door “you let me know your decision about next week, and we’ll look at it then, you do what’s right”
Terry smirked to himself as he watched Paul leave, his face contorted in disgust as he turned towards Billy who was now stuffing towels and t-shirts into his gym holdall.
“You’re actually not gonna fight next week?” Terry scowled “what a disappointing cunt you really are Billy Hope..”
“If I did it or I didn’t” Billy replied through gritted teeth “it would be my decision, not yours, you understand that?”
“You fucking faggot” Terry bellowed “why don’t you fight me then?!”
“You wanna box so badly dad” Billy shot back “then you do it”
“Why you doing this?” Terry spat “out of spite? Out of what? To get one over on me? Or is it that stupid cow of yours, did she tell you not to fight? What is it?”
“Maybe for a minute I thought I could be like you” Billy smiled, throwing the holdall over his shoulder as he fastened a baseball cap onto his head “then I realised, I didn’t want to be anything like you”
“How you gonna live with yourself, knowing you quit this?” Terry grunted, shoving Billy in the back as he followed him “you couldn’t even try it out, you quit at the first hurdle ‘cause you’re a faggot..you run where there’s the first sign of trouble, you can’t ride it out…you’re just like your fucking mother”
“Right” Billy sighed “like it takes real talent to be a fucking drunk like you”
“What would you know about it you ungrateful prick?” Terry snarled, the rage in his eyes palpable as he sidestepped closer.
“Look what all this did to you dad” Billy mumbled under his breath, averting his gaze “is fucking your health up what your dedication gets you?”
“Fuck what that prick doctor said” Terry shook his head “I can probably go longer than you in that ring, go longer, go faster, if the fucking suits would let me box, I would box-I would never quit-you’re in the fucking best condition of your life, at your age, and you want to quit?”
“It’s not about quitting, don’t you understand?” Billy snapped “for once in your fucking life why don’t you ever listen to what I’m trying to say to you?”
“I am listening” Terry scoffed “you know what my trainer used to call people like you? Rubber dinghy men. The ship’s sinking and you’re the first one out, you ain’t got the fucking balls for this game..three generations of pugilists in our family, and you’re the one cunt that has to arse it up”
“I don’t want to be like the rest of my fucking family” Billy shot back “look at us, what the fuck have we ever achieved?”
He didn’t feel the force of the fist crush against his chin until it was too late. Then the second punch came. Billy felt the force of the knuckles echo against his jaw as he stumbled backwards. At first it felt like nothing, only for the dizzying sensation to slowly crawl over him. As he widened his eyes he saw his father standing there, his fist uncoiled as his lips parted. He wanted to speak, and for a moment he almost whimpered an apology, but Billy had already dragged himself to his feet and turned away. He heard Terry call out behind him but Billy stared straight ahead, moving faster and faster, refusing to turn around even though the tears had started to fall down his cheek.
Paul stood by the ring apron watching Billy march towards him, one hand nursing the swelling fast coming up on his jaw and the other wiping the tears running down his face away.
“What you gonna do?” Paul asked, stopping him in his tracks, slamming the clipboard up against his chest “don’t let
him make the decision for you, you do it”
Billy stared down at the paper sheets; all it took was once signature, one tick of the box to throw away the years of toil and months of grinding practice. He looked up at Paul, searching for some answer, some indication of what he had to do. He gripped hold of the pen, surprised to find it trembling within the clasp of his hand. As he looked up at the ring, and glanced over his shoulder to see Terry standing by the changing rooms, he knew his decision had been made.