I had certainly had enough fights to qualify as a true-blood gypsy. But when the medium repeated that I was very lucky to have not killed someone, I decided never to fight on the streets again. If those messages aren’t warnings for me to stop then I don’t know what is. Only a matter of a few years ago, a lad was killed in our town with one punch. You don’t only ruin your life, but you ruin your family’s life, and that of the victim and the victim’s family. It’s not worth it.
My own health was taking a bit of a bashing even without the fighting. I developed a hernia just above my belly button, known as an umbilical hernia. It develops when the intestine pushes through the stomach wall. I don’t know how I got it but it kept getting bigger and eventually looked like a golf ball. I was referred to the hospital and was told straight away that it needed surgery. I wanted to lose a little bit of weight before I went in, so I shed a stone. I went in hospital on the Sunday, had the operation on the Monday and was released by Tuesday teatime. They had cut me open, and pushed the intestine back in before putting a mesh gauze there so it couldn’t push back through. I had to take it easy until it healed up, but I’m OK now. I’ve taken a few good shots in the gym in my belly and had the medicine ball smacked off it loads of times and it’s fine.
As my interest in fighting began to wane, I started to get into birds – no, not the lasses, but birds of prey. I went to a bird-of-prey centre with Tommy and George and had a good look round. We started talking to the blokes who ran the place; they would kindly give advice and answer questions. There was a flying display on at the time, and the birds would swoop down and fly just above your head and put the shits up you. One of the blokes gave me the glove to put on and part of a baby chick as food, which I placed on one of my gloved fingers. He gave a signal and this big buzzard came flying out of the trees and swooped down on to my fist and took the chick. The power of those birds is unreal. We were there about three hours and had a great time. What was significant about it was as soon as I got home, I put the TV on and all the stations were live to America because the World Trade Centre was on fire after a hijacked plane had crashed into one of the towers. Then I watched as the second plane went into the other tower. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and the rest is history. I’ll never forget what I was doing on September 11.
I had an aviary built, and filled it with all sorts of birds, Canaries, Cutthroats, Silver Bills, Strawberry Finches, and so on. They bred like wildfire. I never sold any of the young, preferring to give them away for free. I bred for pleasure, not profit. I did that for over two years and enjoyed it, but then I decided to have a break and gave the birds to my friend who has a pet shop.
I cleaned out the aviary and it was stood empty for about six months. One day Tommy said, ‘You know what would look well in that aviary?’
‘What?’ I asked.
‘An owl,’ he replied.
I’d never given a thought to owning an owl before but he planted the seed and it seemed like a good idea. I bought a book and a video on owls before so I could understand them a bit more. I had a look in the local admag and found an ad for a young eight-month-old Barn Owl for sale. I eagerly phoned up; it hadn’t been sold. It was at a place called Seaton Delaval, which was about fifty miles up the North East coastline. I had been there about 12 years before to see a Scottish medium called Mary Duffy give an evening of clairvoyance to a packed hall. When we arrived at the house the guy who opened the door looked like a New Age traveller. Out the back, he had aviaries with birds of prey in. He knew what he was talking about and he handled the birds with majestic ease. He showed us the owl, which was a beauty. He was feeding him on baby chicks and he gave me some to take home. I also used to give him mice once a week as well for a change. I would watch him at night to see his actions because my aviary was situated in an open space and surrounded by trees and birds – it was like being in the wild for him.
I started a new trend because not much later Tommy bought a pair of European Eagle Owls. George, who I call Bald Eagle, bought a pair of Turk Owls. Mick Burns bought a pair of African Spotted Eagle Owls and Maori bought a pair of Snowy Owls. I called my owl Barney because he was a Barn Owl. I had him for a year. When the mating season started, he was calling all night for a mate – I couldn’t get to sleep so I decided that he had to go, but I wanted a good home for him, so gave him to a friend of Mick Burns called Gerry. He was a great bloke and a proper naturalist and a little eccentric. He keeps Barney in a lovely aviary and he’s well looked after.
Gerry had had a few run-ins with the law when he was a young man, and had been known by the nickname ‘Screw’ Lawson, as he chinned a few coppers in his time. But with age he had mellowed out, and become an authority on wildlife in general. He is 66 now and still active with his dogs. He moved to the Shires and lived in an isolated cottage on his own for 12 years, hunting and studying wildlife while working in the kitchens at the Military College, in Wiltshire. He returned to the North East a few years ago and settled in Hartlepool for about 18 months before moving up to Shotton.
CHAPTER 20
THE LONDON RETURN OF CRAZY HORSE
After hearing of my sister’s tragic death, the infamous prisoner Charles Bronson sent me a very nice letter of condolence. We exchanged a few letters after that, and he even wrote a tribute to me for inclusion in this book. Not long after, I was invited as a guest to one of his art shows being held on his behalf somewhere in Yorkshire. To cut a long story short, I never turned up and about a week later I received a nasty letter from Bronson demanding a reason for my non-show. A line from the letter reads: ‘Is that your fucking game, disrespecting people?’ Bronson then contacted a friend of mine called Terry in London, requesting a fight with me as soon as he got released from prison on parole. In spite of my temporary retirement from fighting, you have to admit it was an offer I couldn’t refuse. But will Bronson ever be released? I’ve got my fingers crossed in hope that the fight does happen; it’ll be a nice littler earner and I’m certain I’ll be victorious. So watch this space.
In the meantime, Tony suggested I take a few unlicensed fights to get fit and shake off the ring rust. This was a timely suggestion as I had been out of the ring for 14 years – my last amateur fight was way back in 1989. I was well out of shape and weighing in at a gigantic twenty stone. Over the next couple of weeks, I gave it some serious thought. I was almost 39. Was I too old for it? I knew that my best fighting days were behind me, but this was probably my last shot at the big time. I also knew that in years to come I’d be sitting by the fire with my pipe and slippers thinking about the opportunity that I had let slip through my fingers. The answer had to be: Yes, bring it on!
Now I had to go on a diet as well as start training. I needed the right fuel in my body, as the slightest disadvantage can be the difference between glory and defeat. My diet routine was the following: Breakfast: bowl of Cornflakes or Rice Krispies, with only a sweetener – no sugar allowed. Sometimes I’d also have 4 soft-boiled eggs. Mid-morning: a banana and an apple. Lunch: baked potato with tuna or beans. Mid-afternoon: two pieces of fruit. Dinner: steak or chicken or fish or pasta, with a choice of three vegetables. Evening meal: one piece of fruit, and a tea or coffee with sweeteners. I could drink as much fruit juice and water as I liked. I stuck to the diet and never once wavered – the stakes were too fucking high. And it worked: on 14 May 2004, I had weighed 20st 2lb, but on the day of the fight eight weeks later I weighed 18st dead – a loss of 30lb!
The diet was only one aspect of the training, as of course I had to put some serious work in, in the gym. After all, I was going to be fighting in front of 2,000 people so I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. I also kept a diary of my training so I could look back at it and know exactly what I’d done right or wrong. When you do this, you know whether or not you’ve put the work in. If you don’t put the work in, you are only fooling yourself because if you cut corners there is always a price to pay. I’ll put my training diary in so you can see how I built my fit
ness up.
WEDNESDAY 14 MAY
* * *
3x2 mins skipping.
THURSDAY 15 MAY
* * *
3x1 min on pads.
SATURDAY 17 MAY
* * *
3x2 mins skipping.
TUESDAY 20 MAY
* * *
2x2 min skipping. 2x2 min punch bag.
THURSDAY 22 MAY
* * *
3x1 min on pads.
FRIDAY 23 MAY
* * *
3x2 min skipping.
SATURDAY 24 MAY
* * *
Three shadow boxing. Thee skipping. Later that day, I agreed to fight Tony ‘Rock Hard’ Louis on 17 July at the Hammersmith Palais, in London.
TUESDAY 27 MAY
* * *
Three pads. Two punch bag.
WEDNESDAY 28 MAY
* * *
Three shadow boxing. Three skipping.
THURSDAY 29 MAY
* * *
Three pads. Two punch bag.
FRIDAY 30 MAY
* * *
One shadow boxing. Four skipping.
SATURDAY 31 MAY
* * *
Three shadow boxing. Three skipping.
MONDAY 2 JUNE
* * *
Jogging. Four times round sports track.
TUESDAY 3 JUNE
* * *
Three pads. Five bag.
WEDNESDAY 4 JUNE
* * *
Jogging. Four times round track.
THURSDAY 5 JUNE
* * *
Three pads. Six bag.
FRIDAY 6 JUNE
* * *
Jogging. Four times round track.
SUNDAY 8 JUNE
* * *
Three skipping.
MONDAY 9 JUNE
* * *
Jogging. Four times round track.
TUESDAY 10 JUNE
* * *
Two skipping. Three pads.
WEDNESDAY 11 JUNE
* * *
Jogging. Five times round track.
THURSDAY 12 JUNE
* * *
Three pads. Six bag.
FRIDAY 13 JUNE
* * *
Jogging. Five times round track.
SATURDAY 14 JUNE
* * *
Four sparring. Five bag.
MONDAY 16 JUNE
* * *
Jogging. Five times round track.
TUESDAY 17 JUNE
* * *
Three pads. Three sparring.
WEDNESDAY 18 JUNE
* * *
am. Jogging. Five times round track. pm. Two skipping. Four sparring. Three bag.
THURSDAY 19 JUNE
* * *
Three pads. Five bag.
FRIDAY 20 JUNE
* * *
Jogging. Five times round track.
SATURDAY 21 JUNE
* * *
Three sparring.
MONDAY 23 JUNE
* * *
Jogging. Six times round track.
TUESDAY 24 JUNE
* * *
Three pads. Eight bag.
WEDNESDAY 25 JUNE
* * *
am. Jogging. Six times round track. pm. Four skipping. Four sparring. Four bag. Two pads.
THURSDAY 26 JUNE
* * *
Three pads. Twelve bag.
FRIDAY 27 JUNE
* * *
Jogging. Six times round track.
MONDAY 30 JUNE
* * *
Six times round track.
TUESDAY 1 JULY
* * *
Three pads. Ten bag.
WEDNESDAY 2 JULY
* * *
Jogging. Six times round track.
THURSDAY 3 JULY
* * *
Three pads. Twelve bag.
FRIDAY 4 JULY
* * *
Jogging. Six times round track.
SUNDAY 6 JULY
* * *
Three pads.
MONDAY 7 JULY
* * *
am. Jogging. Six times round track. pm. Five sparring. Six bag.
TUESDAY 8 JULY
* * *
Thirteen skipping.
WEDNESDAY 9 JULY
* * *
Jogging. Six times round track.
THURSDAY 10 JULY
* * *
Two skipping. Three pads. Three bag.
FRIDAY 11 JULY
* * *
Jogging. Six times round track.
SATURDAY 12 JULY
* * *
Five skipping. Three bag. Three pads. Twenty mins bike.
SUNDAY 13 JULY
* * *
Three pads.
MONDAY 14 JULY
* * *
am. Jogging. Six times round track. pm. Five pads.
As you can see, I worked hard for this fight and made sacrifices. Once or twice, as I was going home from a session in the gym, I felt like saying, Fuck it, this is too hard, but I hung in there and stayed with it. I had some excellent sparring sessions with ‘Big Shanny’. He is 6ft 2in tall and weighs in at 16 stone, is as fit as a lop and often goes out on 10-mile runs. He’s a really good heavyweight boxer and as strong as a bull. He put me through it in sparring and got me prepared. He brought me on no end and I can’t thank him enough. As well as Big Shanny, I would like to thank Craig and Mark Denton for some first-class sparring. Mark is No 2 Amateur Middleweight in England and has a tattoo on his back that says, ‘Pain is temporary, pride is forever.’ Also, thanks to John Dawson for giving me some excellent conditioning work.
I did all the homework on my opponent Tony ‘Rock Hard’ Louis. He had had around forty fights and then retired for about six years, making a comeback only a few years ago in the unlicensed ring, having fifteen more fights. He was certainly no mug. I got hold of a couple of his fights on video so I could have a good look at him. He was a very clever fighter with a good defence, and hardly ever got caught by punches to the head. Going for his head and hitting nothing but gloves and arms will tire you out very quickly, so I devised a plan to attack the body to force his arms down. I accordingly worked on my body shots in training.
I went to London with John, one of my trainers. We met up with my other man, Biff, on the day of the fight. We stayed with old friends, Steve and Sofia, who made us very welcome. Steve was a former Hartlepool lad who I’d known since the 1970s. We stayed for three days in all. It was a great place to find peace and just relax and get focused about the job ahead. But as the fight time drew nearer, the butterflies inevitably got stronger. All the training and homework was done; it was all down to me now to deliver and produce the goods on the day itself.
We went to the Hammersmith Palais by taxi. All the way there, John and Biff were talking to me from the back seat, psyching me up. The place was packed out when we arrived. The bouncers on the door were huge and I was recognised straight away because my picture was on all the posters for the show. I was to be fighting the last bout of the night – the top of the bill. Inside the venue, there were well-known celebrities from TV and film: top professional boxers, gypsy fighters, glamour models, well-known football hooligans, bare-knuckle fighters, underworld gangsters and even one of the great train robbers, Bruce Reynolds, was at the ringside. They had all come to see this guy, Crazy Horse! When we got into the dressing room, it was like a blast furnace. There was no air to breathe and everyone was sweating cobs. As all the celebrities were in the ring auctioning things, I slipped outside and grabbed a bit of fresh air. It was beautiful as it cooled me down and allowed me to look up to the sky and get some focus. I went back in after 15 minutes, and was gloved up. Then the music started blaring and I knew my opponent was on his way to the ring.
Born to Fight--The True Story of Richy 'Crazy Horse' Horsley Page 17