SID. Well, you should have tried harder when you were younger.
JOEY. Those who can’t… So when did Heather creep onto the scene?
SID. I was seeing her before I signed with you lot, now piss off.
JOEY. Is that how you charmed her? Being an unsociable little gobshite?
No answer.
No, I know what it is. I know why she fell for Mr Sid Sparks. It’s all that skipping. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me she didn’t go crazy for a bit of skipping.
SID. Shut up, Joe.
JOEY. No no, I think I’m on to something here.
JOEY rises and goes to stand beside SID. He mimics skipping. Testing it out. This is very off-putting. SID snaps and stops.
SID. Fuck off, Joe, I’m working here.
JOEY. Well now, that’s no way to talk to your team. Bit sore today, are we? I thought you looked a little worse for wear the other night.
SID. Something to say, Joe?
JOEY. No no, nothing. Just I thought a fit young lad like yourself might handle his hangovers a bit better.
SID. How would you know how I handle my hangovers?
JOEY. Well, this might come as a shock to you, boyo, but I’ve had to watch you train like this quite a few times.
SID. Spit it out, Joe.
JOEY. You like a drink. That’s all I’m saying. No shame in that.
Beat.
Go on.
Stand-off over, SID resumes skipping.
Probably something your old man liked as well. Dunno, I’ve never met him but these things do tend to flow downhill.
Pause.
My old man liked a flutter. Y’know? Not too bad either, he often picked a winner.
Slight pause.
But you know what they say, a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing. Bigger the bet, bigger the loss. But that’s the trouble, isn’t it? Cos if you like it, and I mean really like it, then the loss never seems as bad as the chance of winning seems good.
Slight pause.
I stay away from bookies. I always figured that if something ate your old man, and he tasted good, chances are you’ll probably taste all right as well… y’know what I mean, Sid?
No answer.
You know what I mean.
Pause.
Was your dad a dancer too? Cos I reckon the shapes you were cutting last night must’ve evolved over generations –
SID stops skipping.
SID. Jesus, Joey! Shut up!
JOEY. All right, all right!
SID. I’m just saying /
JOEY. I know, I’m sorry /
SID. I’m just saying, I’m trying to fucking work here and you’re going through my family tree.
JOEY. I know, you’re right. Sorry. All I’m saying is… the boozing hasn’t gone unnoticed, and you might want to think about… I don’t know, staying in every now and then.
SID doesn’t respond.
I reckon that’s time, old boy.
SID drops the rope, moves, bobs. Stretches out. JOEY notices him stretching and decides to test his reflexes. Throws a one and a one-one that SID dodges.
SID. Not bad for a hangover.
JOEY resumes and throws a one-two, one-two – one-two-three – SID doges all and catches him in the ribs on the last combo.
I should train like this more often.
JOEY. Five years ago I’d have had you.
SID. Does that make you feel better?
Enter DREW.
DREW. Sid, masseuse is here.
SID. All right.
JOEY. Lucky boy. What I wouldn’t give for a nice rub-down every time I worked up a sweat.
SID. Piss off. They really hurt.
JOEY. My heart bleeds for you.
SID goes to leave.
SID. He’s been trying to hit me, Drew.
DREW. Tragic. How late were you last night?
SID. Yeah, yeah.
SID exits.
DREW. I’m amazed he was in today. State he was in the other night.
JOEY. I’ve had a word.
DREW. And?
JOEY. And what? He listened. He’s twenty-four, likes a drink, there’s only so much I can say.
DREW. It’s not the drinking itself, it’s the way he acts when he’s had a few. Right little shit. You might need to try again. Did you see him?
JOEY. Didn’t need to, I could smell it on him this morning.
Enter MICKEY.
MICKEY. Good morning, all you pretty things.
JOEY. All right, Mick?
DREW. All right?
MICKEY. I am indeed all right. One might say I’m positively giddy.
JOEY. And why’s that?
MICKEY holds up a brown paper file.
DREW. What’s that then?
MICKEY. I’ve just come from the offices of KingPin Promotions.
JOEY. Yeah?!
MICKEY. Oh yes.
DREW. And?
MICKEY. In three months’ time we fight the number-three welterweight in the country, Gary Hooper.
JOEY. You’re joking.
MICKEY. Joey, look deep into my eyes and see that I shit you not.
DREW. How’d you get that?
MICKEY. I’ve been trying to book us a bout with the bigger boys since Hayward. Hooper was keen.
JOEY. Ducking Burns by any chance?
MICKEY. I would imagine that had something to do with it. But his loss, our gain. We decamp to Manchester in two months’ time.
DREW. Manchester?
MICKEY. Yeah.
DREW. Why are we fighting in Manchester?
MICKEY. Hooper’s from Manchester. He’s the bigger name, he chooses where we fight.
DREW. We’ll be fighting in Hooper’s backyard.
JOEY. Sid’s got fans.
DREW. Sure, but they’re not going to travel to Manchester for a non-title fight, are they?
MICKEY. It’s more than that, Drew. This fight decides who gets to challenge Burns for the title. Or that’s how they’re going to sell it.
Beat.
DREW. What?
MICKEY. Chances are Burns will fight the winner –
DREW. You’re angling for a fight with Burns?
MICKEY. Yes, Drew, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I?
DREW. Burns would kill him.
MICKEY. Maybe. Maybe not.
DREW. It took Sid eleven rounds to beat a granddad.
Beat.
MICKEY. They’re paying for our gym, our house, our travel, our wages while we’re up there and a cut of the tickets win or lose. For that much I’d have Sid fight anyone.
DREW. And what if Sid’s not up to it and takes a beating?
MICKEY (elated). We still get paid.
Beat. DREW’s not convinced.
What’s the point of having a boxer at this level if we don’t cash in?
JOEY. Exactly.
MICKEY. Good. I want him on every radio channel and chat show there is.
DREW. Sure we want him out so much?
MICKEY. What d’you mean?
DREW. Well, you know how he is. We don’t want to make things a bit more… puritan?
MICKEY. Joey’s going to have a word.
JOEY. Already had one.
MICKEY. Problem solved. Get him ready, chaps, we leave in two months. Oh, Sidney?! We need your autograph.
Scene Eleven
They break. The scene resolves itself into ‘The Train’, two seats facing two seats. MICKEY and DREW are already seated. The scene begins with the sounds of a station and JOEY escorting a delicate SID into the cabin and onto his seat.
DREW. Here he bloody is. I was starting to get worried.
MICKEY. What time d’you call this? Train’s about to leave.
JOEY. Some of us had to collect Sleeping Beauty.
They conduct this following exchange in full knowledge that SID is there, like angry parents.
MICKEY. Oh, I see. What hour was it this time, Joe?
JOEY. Him and his lady-love were pu
shing four o’clock.
DREW. Is that so?
MICKEY. Drew, weren’t we rising at a similar hour to pack up some ungrateful sod’s gym?
DREW. Yeah, that rings a bell.
MICKEY. And I’m guessing that when this wayward child did return home he was a picture of responsibility and sobriety?
JOEY. I’m sorry to disappoint you but he could barely kick off his shoes.
MICKEY. That, Joey, is heartbreaking. Good night was it, sunshine?
Beat.
SID. Yeah… I met Springsteen.
Beat.
DREW. Bruce Springsteen?
SID (yawning). Yeah. We went to one of his gigs with Heather and we got invited backstage so I went along. It was good.
Beat.
DREW. Did he do ‘Born in the USA’?
SID. Yeah.
Beat.
JOEY. What about ‘Dancing in the Dark’?
DREW. Oh yeah.
Beat.
MICKEY. Well… well, you can kiss goodbye to that sort of thing for the next month, we’ve got work to do.
JOEY. And you better get down to it. No more pissing around with pop stars.
Slight pause.
DREW. Right, I could use a stretch.
He rises.
Cup of tea, anyone?
JOEY. You’re all right.
MICKEY. Give him a hand, Joe.
Beat.
JOEY. All right.
They leave.
Pause.
MICKEY. Springsteen, I ask you.
SID shrugs.
You all right?
SID nods.
Beat.
You should be chuffed. Hooper was guaranteed to fight Burns before you showed up. You must be making waves.
Beat.
SID. Did you see Hooper’s last fight? Against Keller.
MICKEY. Yeah.
SID. He’s fast.
MICKEY. That he is.
SID. Reckon he’s faster than me?
Beat.
MICKEY. Quite possibly.
SID. Why couldn’t I fight down the rankings? Hayward was a tough fight.
MICKEY. You fight up, not down. We want to win titles so we fight the best.
SID. Easy for you to say.
MICKEY. You don’t want to win titles?
Beat.
SID. Why do we have to rush? Can’t I enjoy this for a bit?
MICKEY. You’re not paid to enjoy it. You’re paid to win the fights I book you.
SID. And what if I lose?
Beat.
MICKEY. I’m sorry?
Beat.
SID. I don’t want to be embarrassed.
MICKEY. No, you just want to waste your time by going out every night.
SID. Here we go.
MICKEY. You have got to sort this out, boy. We’re aiming at a title here, this is as big as it gets.
SID. Yeah, yeah.
MICKEY. And this time it’s not an old man. You think Hayward was hard just wait until you see Hooper box.
SID. I have seen him.
MICKEY. So why are you pissing around like this? I’m trying to build you a career.
SID. Oh fuck off, Mick.
MICKEY. Excuse me?
SID. You’re building me a career? As if you were riding first class before I showed up?
MICKEY. Oh, what are you on about?
SID. You’re sorted because of me, Mick. All of you are. And when I’m done my name will be your ticket to get the best guys in the next generation and get rich off them too. After this you’re set, next forty years or so you’re set. I’m done in ten and then I’m right back where I started. What else am I gonna do? Be a doctor? (Beat.) I can count the years I’ve got left on both hands. So excuse me if I enjoy them while they’re here.
MICKEY. You sound like a child.
Beat. SID leaves.
They break. DREW steps forward.
Scene Twelve
DREW. Looking back now, that fight tastes the worst. An event that big would be the high point of most people’s careers but… we just weren’t ready. We lost Sid in Manchester. Nothing worked, pleading, shouting we even followed him a few times but we just couldn’t convince him that all his pissing around might catch up to him. Trying to explain the idea of losing to a guy who hadn’t lost yet was… hard. We didn’t seem able to do it. And it just felt odd to me. This was a big stadium fight, the stuff of dreams, and we just let it get the best of us. Of Sid. I mean one day we’re working in some damp gym with a leaking ceiling, and the next thing you know we’re dropped into a state-of-the-art facility, camera crews outside and Sid’s face on twenty-foot posters all over the city. But instead of getting on with the job we just fought amongst ourselves.
We are instantly in ‘The Gym’. SID is doing pads with JOEY while the others watch. SID has done something wrong.
MICKEY. No, no, no, no!
SID. What? What fucking now? Eh?
DREW. Same as before, Sid.
SID. What you’re starting now as well?
DREW. Well, if you were listening we wouldn’t be having this bloody problem, would we?
SID. What?
MICKEY. How many times, Sid? You go in after that left to the body and he’s going to clock you time and time again.
SID. Thirteen professional fights, I never once got caught like that. Stellar, Michaels, Hayward, not once, not ever.
MICKEY. But this isn’t someone you can dance around. I’m telling you, we’ve watched the fights, you go in like that against Hooper he’s going to take your head off.
JOEY. He’s not lying, Sid. He’ll put you to sleep every time.
SID softens a bit.
SID. But, Joe, if anybody can go in and out without getting caught it’s me. You know that.
JOEY. Not against Hooper, Sid. He’s lightning fast.
SID. What, faster than me?
Beat.
JOEY. Yeah.
DREW. He’s right.
Slight pause.
SID. How can you be this negative? You’re all supposed to lift me up.
MICKEY. And you’re supposed to show up on time –
SID. Do me a favour, Mick –
MICKEY. On time and ready. You were late again this morning.
SID. Barely.
MICKEY. Half an hour late, and another half-hour to get ready. It’s not on.
SID. Well, what’s the point of me showing up if all I hear from you lot is that I’m not doing it right and I’m going to get a smack? What’s the point?
He makes to leave.
JOEY. Sid mate, come on.
MICKEY. We’re not done here, Sid.
SID. We are for today. I’m the one who has to go out there so I’ll say when we’re done. If that left is going to get me hit then you geniuses put your heads together and find a way for me to get at his body without being knocked out.
SID storms off.
MICKEY. What an idiot.
DREW. Yeah.
MICKEY. I mean honestly, what are we doing here messing around with that?
JOEY. He’ll get there eventually.
DREW. It’ll be too late, Joe, he’ll get what we’re on about after the first few rounds but by then he won’t be able to do anything about it.
MICKEY. Unbelievable. Closest I’ll ever get to a title and that prick ruins it.
Beat.
JOEY. So what do we do?
DREW steps forward.
DREW. By the time we walked out, Sid was barely talking to us. We were stood in the tunnel, ready to go and Mick asked Sid how he was feeling. Didn’t even answer, just walked out into the crowd like he was untouchable. Supreme confidence. But the thing about boxing, is that it keeps you honest. If you don’t take it seriously, take your opponents seriously, it’ll show. And if you’ve been out every night and fighting with your team. You’ll stand out like a sore thumb.
Cut to the corner. All shout encouragement.
MICKEY. Move your head, Sid!
JOEY. That’s it, hold him off.
MICKEY. No, no, no.
JOEY. Not to the bloody ropes, Sid.
DREW. Oh Jesus.
JOEY. Wrap him up for christsakes, wrap him up.
DREW. Good boy.
MICKEY. Now, nice and easy, pick your spots.
JOEY. Oh for fuck’s sake!
Big reaction.
DREW. It’s the third time he’s gone to the body.
MICKEY. He’s out of ideas.
JOEY. Thirty seconds left, Sid, just stay off him.
DREW. What is he doing? Get off the bloody ropes.
JOEY. Side to side, Sid!
DREW. Cover up!
MICKEY. Oh Jesus.
JOEY. Watch the right.
Big reaction.
DREW. Shit, he’s cut.
MICKEY. Where?
JOEY. Just under the right eye.
MICKEY. Oh no.
JOEY. He’s out on his feet.
DREW. Hang on, Sid!
MICKEY. Make sure everything’s ready. I want that cut sorted by the next round.
JOEY. Got it.
Bell goes. They surge forwards. SID slumps into the stool, totally spent.
MICKEY. Water, Drew.
JOEY. How bad’s the cut?
DREW. Not great.
JOEY. How’re the ribs?
SID is puffing so hard he can barely speak.
DREW. Check his eyes.
MICKEY clicks around SID’s face. He responds but not enough. MICKEY claps in his face.
MICKEY. All right, switch on, Sid.
SID. He’s so fast.
DREW. Easy, easy, deep breaths.
JOEY. Think his nose is starting to bleed.
JOEY is rubbing his ribs or applying cottons to the nose, DREW attempts to cool the right eye.
MICKEY. Sid, you have got to stop going in after his body. He’s caught you four times now.
SID. I can’t get near him. I can’t slow him down.
MICKEY. Well, start picking off his head. He can’t move quick if he’s dizzy.
SID. He’ll have me.
JOEY. And stop going to the bloody ropes. Move about a bit, don’t make life easy for him.
MICKEY. Exactly. What happened to dancing about, in and out?
SID. I stand off him he just closes me down.
MICKEY. Stay out of the corners and use your left to keep him away. He can’t stay fast forever.
SID. And what if that doesn’t work?
JOEY doubles around the team and becomes the referee.
JOEY/REF. How’s that cut?
MICKEY. Yeah he’s fine, ref. No problems here.
JOEY/REF. He needs to start protecting himself.
Plays from Vault Page 16