Four Fires (45 page)

Bozo now goes to this big box in the dressing room that's filled with headgear and gloves, all of them almost new, and he takes one out that's black.

'Take that one,' I say, pointing to this beaut-looking red headguard.

'What's the diff?'

'It'll make you look tougher,' I tell him. But really it's Mike's influence on me, Bozo's boxing gloves are red and now so is the headgear, what Mike calls colour co-ordination. Bozo's got white trunks with a dark-blue stripe down the side. So now it's red, white and blue, that's your colour co-ordination. But I can't say that to Bozo, so I add, 'I saw this picture of Joe Louis when he was heavyweight champion of the world and he had red headgear on.'

Bozo laughs, 'Joe Louis, eh? Mole, you're whacked in the head,' but he picks up the red one and I do up the chin strap for him. Then I help him with his boxing gloves. I like tying the gloves, it's sort of tough, like you belong to something that's men's business which women don't know about and if you tie them just right it could influence the result of the fight. I know that's stupid, but it's what you feel.

We leave the changing room and find a speedball that isn't being used. Thomas is close by, he's removed his gloves and is having a go with the skipping rope making it sing, whurr-whurr-whurr, doing twists and whirls and figures of eight and generally drawing attention to himself. You can tell he likes himself a whole heap.

Bozo goes to work on the speedball until his back and arms and neck are shiny with sweat. Then he does the skipping rope, just fast

and plain, Bozo doesn't know how to show off, it's not part of his nature. He's one of those boxers the punters like straight off, all business in the ring and someone they always know is
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going to give them one hundred per cent. He's a pretty good-looking kid too, so the sheilas love him as well.

'Righto,' Mr Flanagan says, 'Lemme see your gloves, lads.' He examines the gloves, unties Bozo's left glove and does it up again. I blush for shame. I've done it lots of times and nobody's said anything before. Mr Flanagan looks at Thomas's gloves and nods. 'In the ring, boys. Bozo, you take the blue corner.'

The two of them climb up into the ring and so does Kevin Flanagan. Thomas is snuffling and snorting into his gloves and smacking them together and looking tough, half-spitting out his mouthpiece and then drawing it back into his mouth again, setting about the business of intimidating Bozo. He's also walking around and throwing punches in the air and looking over at Bozo's corner, trying to catch his eye.

I don't know how Bozo feels, but, I'm tellin' ya, Thomas is doing a damn good job on me, I get this real scared feeling just looking at him. I forgot to say he's got this thin moustache like Errol Flynn, which helps make him look real nasty. If Johnny Thomas is as cranky as I think he is, then sparks are gunna fly.

On the other hand, just looking at Bozo, you'd think he was half-asleep because he doesn't appear to notice Thomas. He stands in his corner with his arms by his sides, his head down looking at the floor. But that's the thing, see. Bozo standing there makes you feel confident. He's got this silence about him, no fuss . . . he's, well, just Bozo Maloney, the Boy Boxer you can trust.

Some sort of buzz must have gone around the gym because several boxers have stopped what they're doing and they've come over to watch. The thing is, they don't know Bozo is several years younger. He's got a better build than Thomas, stronger around the shoulders, and the arms and his stomach muscles can be seen, every one of them perfect, like plaited rope. There's a lot of garbage-bin lifting that's gone into making them look like that. Though mine don't. Maybe when I stop being a kid?

Bozo's father, the Yank marine, was Polish or something. Nancy was never too sure and Bozo's skin is tanned a nice brown, not like the rest of us Maloneys, who've got freckles and turn reddish-pink in the sun.

Nancy says it's because we've become overcivilised, primitive Africans are black and we're the extreme opposite. Overcivilised. It don't sound like a Maloney though, does it?

For an Australian, Thomas is white as a Pommie migrant. It doesn't look like he's been out in the sun ever. There's not a freckle, nothing.

He's probably spent his whole life in the gym and that's why he's so good. Even I know snow-white skin doesn't mean he isn't tough.

'This is a sparring session, understand?' Mr Flanagan says sternly.

'No funny stuff, okay?' He says this looking at Thomas. 'We'll let it go for the first round, see your form, Bozo, then I'll try to be useful. See if I can help a bit. Couple of things I saw in your fight with Jimmy Black

need correcting.'

When he says the name 'Jimmy Black', Thomas looks up suddenly.

You remember, Bozo and Jimmy Black had a hard fight which could have gone either way. I don't know if it's Kevin Flanagan's way of telling him that Bozo's gunna be no pushover, or he just means what he says, that Bozo needs a bit of coaching help.

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'When I say "break", you break clean. Defend yourself at all times.

Obey my commands. All right?'

'Yes, sir,' Bozo says, but Johnny Thomas doesn't even bother to nod, he knows the instructions are for his opponent.

Mr Flanagan takes a stopwatch from his pocket. 'Box!' he calls out.

Both boxers come out of their corners fast and get stuck in right off. Bozo's a body man and he likes to fight close when he can, going for

the hook and the left and right uppercut under the heart. Thomas may be the same, but he wants to make quick work of this round when there's no interference from the coach and he's going straight for his opponent's head. Seems silly, Bozo's got a protective headguard on, Thomas must reckon Bozo's jaw is a sufficiently big target.

Both boxers are fast and good defenders. Bozo gets in a good body blow and then tries to move backwards out of range. Thomas lets him have it with a long straight right, a beautiful punch, and Bozo finds himself sitting on the deck. He's up in a flash, almost bouncing off the deck back on to his feet, but he's fooled nobody, it was a terrific punch.

'Stop!' Flanagan shouts. He asks Bozo how he feels, if he's had enough.

'No way,' Bozo grins.

Flanagan wipes his gloves on the front of his shirt and says, 'Box on.'

Thomas has got this sort of half-grin on his face and now he's showboating, his hands hanging loose, his shoulders moving up and down. He's doing a little dance and then he baulks at Bozo, taunting him. He doesn't know it yet, but he's got the wrong fighter, Bozo's not going to worry about anything like that. Bozo continues all business in the ring and he steps forward and catches Thomas with a looping left to the side of the head. Thomas knows he's been hit and he brings his gloves up high. Bozo tries to come in again and Thomas catches him with a good solid right that knocks his head back. The boxers watching wince. Bozo covers up and then steps to the left and Thomas catches him with another right that sends Bozo into the ropes.

The Melbourne boxer is getting on top. He comes in with an uppercut that misses and Bozo goes down below with two lefts followed by two rights, each side of the ribs, hard telling shots that come in lightning fast and Thomas doesn't like it one bit. Bozo pushes Thomas away and gets off the ropes. They move to the centre of the ring and Bozo keeps Thomas away with three left jabs. Thomas is still going for the head. He comes in with a big right hand over the top and whacks Bozo square on the forehead, sending him flying backwards.

Thomas is onto him fast and comes in with a looping left which Bozo
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takes on the point of his shoulder. Then Bozo lets rip with a right uppercut that seats just under the rib cage of the other boxer. It doesn't look much but it's a tremendous punch and Thomas goes into a clinch.

Flanagan separates them.

I think the Melbourne boy still thinks Bozo got lucky, because he comes straight back and they slug it out in the centre of the ring until Bozo steps away. Thomas is getting the better of his opponent, throwing more punches, though Bozo is the harder puncher and is doing a lot of damage down below yet there's no telling what effect the frequent body blows are having on Johnny Thomas.

I'm suddenly caught up in the fight, I'm no longer scared for Bozo, who's giving almost as much as he's getting. Thomas is starting to use his feet and he's clearly a very skilful boxer, making Bozo miss badly on a couple of occasions. But Bozo's fast enough to get himself out of trouble and takes a couple of glancing blows that probably would have scored but didn't do any real damage.

Thomas is slowly beginning to realise he's got a fight on his hands and the other boxers watching around the ring are grinning. I don't think Johnny Thomas is the most popular bloke in the gym.

Bozo's not backing off and throwing some good hard punches that hit their mark, most of them rips and uppercuts to the body. There's an old saying in boxing, which Big Jack Donovan never tires of quoting, 'Land 'em to the body and sooner or later the head will follow.'

Thomas seems to sense that it isn't a boxing exhibition any longer, that he's got to step up a notch and he throws a left-right combination that's copybook perfect and Bozo stumbles backwards into the ropes, hanging on. The older boxer is onto him in a flash, going for the head.

But he doesn't realise how strong the young boxer is. Thomas smashes a left and then a looping right into Bozo's headguard. Bozo brings his gloves up and Thomas gets a good punch into Bozo's ribs. Bozo, if he's hurt, doesn't show it and manages to push Thomas away and move off the ropes, moving laterally so that Thomas has to half-turn. Bozo's got his feet set square and Thomas swings with a big right hand that goes over Bozo's head and throws him slightly off balance, his left glove too high, exposing his gut and ribs. Using the full weight of his shoulders, body and legs, Bozo plants a tremendous left hook into Thomas's solar plexus. All of us feel it.

Thomas doubles up, drops to the deck and rolls over onto his back, clutching his stomach with both gloves, his legs in the air.

There's clapping and cheering from the side of the ring. Thomas makes no attempt to get up and Mr Flanagan goes over to him. He's down easily for a ten count before he gets up slowly, first onto his knees then still half-stooping, his hands now cupped over his knackers. He spits out his mouthpiece. 'Foul blow!' he gasps, 'Bastard hit me in the balls!'

There's a howl of laughter from the boxers watching. They've all seen Bozo's punch, an absolute classic left hook well and truly above

the waistline, high and hooking upwards under the rib cage, leaving Johnny Thomas with not enough puff to blow a harmonica.

'That'll do, boys,' Mr Flanagan says. 'First round's over, anyway.' His face shows nothing of what he might be feeling. He's seen Bozo twice and twice he's knocked out his opponent. An amateur featherweight can go his whole career without a knock-out. 'Go take a shower, Johnny,' he instructs.

I'd like to go on with it, the bastard hit me low!'

'Forget it, son, you fought him real dumb! You can do a whole lot better, but that was the best left hook to the solar plexus I've ever seen. If it had been a real bout, you'd have been counted
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out twice over. That's enough for today, take a shower, we'll talk later.'

Flanagan undoes the lace on Thomas's right glove and pulls it off, leaving him to do the left himself. Thomas is angry and starts to climb through the ropes.

'Where's your manners, lad? Bozo's our guest, now do the right thing, touch gloves!' It's the only sign Flanagan's given that he's ropeable.

Thomas glares at him, but climbs back into the ring. Bozo goes straight over to Thomas.

'Thanks, Johnny, it was real good of you to let me spar.' He smiles at the other boxer. 'You're right, Bozo is a bit of a dumb name.' He holds out his gloves to touch Thomas's. 'But then we're Irish, what can you expect?'

'Get fucked!' Thomas spits, climbing out of the ring without touching Bozo's glove. The other boxers shake their heads. Amateur boxers are supposed to be good sports. What happens in the ring stays in the ring. They don't like what's just occurred, it's their gym and Thomas is shaming them. One of the bigger fighters, a cruiserweight I'd say from looking at him, shouts out, 'That's piss-poor, Thomas, do the decent thing. Shake the man's hand, he whupped you good!' Johnny Thomas doesn't look around but keeps on walking towards the change rooms. If Bozo ever gets to fight him in a real contest, there's gunna be no love lost, I can tell ya.

'Righto, Bozo, there's a couple of things you're doing wrong,' Kevin Flanagan now says. 'If your opponent hadn't been so aggro going in, he'd probably have put you down more than the once.

You're stepping

directly backwards when you're coming out of a clinch or fighting close and decide to break off, that's as good as helping the other boxer to line up a big punch. He'll cop you, mostly with a right, even a left and a right if he's got the hand speed and the bloke you've just been sparring with could have done so easily enough if he'd been concentrating. It's the easiest way to get yourself knocked out. Move to the sides of your opponent, don't let him get set. Move left or right, keep him off balance. Lateral movement keeps him looking for you, trying to guess where you're going next.

'Also, you're standing too square, you're giving the other boxer the maximum target, your whole body is exposed. Come in with your left shoulder, fight him with the minimum body exposure, make yourself small, a hard-to-hit target, the less he can see, the less he can hit. You're a good boxer, Bozo, but you tend to want to fight, to slug it out. Box smart and the hard hits will come later when your opponent is tired and starts to get sloppy.'

Funny how he never once uses Johnny Thomas's name when he's explaining things to Bozo.

Flanagan goes on like this with a whole heap of things. I can't believe Bozo's done so many things wrong and still put Thomas on the deck. But when Mr Flanagan puts him in the ring against Eddie Blake, who's a pretty fair boxer it turns out, it becomes apparent Bozo's caught on fast. Kevin Flanagan stops them several times and demonstrates what he wants. He works with Bozo for half an hour, during which time Thomas has come out of the dressing room in his street clobber and walked straight out of the gym without saying anything to Mr Flanagan or any of the others. He's still pretty aggro and I think maybe he feels humiliated. It's him who's the Olympic prospect and you can't blame him for feeling the way he does, Bozo's just a kid from the bush.