Friday, 17 August 2007

English Schoolboy Boxing



For many years, boxing was a very popular activity among a good many English boys. It was by no means unusual for a lad to be coached by his father, to spar with friends and to box with a fellow classmate as part of his PT curriculum. It also drew the interest of boys from all walks of life; from the streets of the East End through to the elite public schools, many English schoolboys took pride in being able to box with their peers and it was seen as part and parcel of a young lad's road to eventual manhood.

In some cases, schoolboys were likely to carry on with their boxing once they were called up for their national service and, at the age of 19, stepped into an army boxing ring with proper fighting gloves and a drill sergeant who would referee, fully expecting to see a proper contest between two grown men.

With boxing, boys learnt the importance of the Queensbury rules and the need for etiquette and fair play in the ring. These rules reflected the values of wider society and encouraged the concept of the English gentleman boxer who showed courage in the school ring or when sparring with friends, preferred to rely on his own mettle, yet who held to the notion of fair play towards his opponent.

In many respects, boxing is the English answer to the martial arts. It had its own code of conduct that was inextricably linked with this sport of self defence. Boys learnt to rely on their own mettle, to learn a disciplined approach towards their boxing technique, to have courage before a worthy opponent and to avoid foul play even when in danger of being carried away by the heat of the moment; something that can be a problem for boys when engaged in a more spirited bout.

I remember attending boxing tournaments at my brothers' school and sitting next to my mother, both us feeling immensely proud to see my brother enter the school ring with his boxing gloves on and ready to touch gloves with another equally courageous lad. In many ways it was a privilege to see two young lads upholding the very best of English boxing and learning to stand up and hold their own in the ring where they had nobody but themselves to rely on.

My mother always taught her sons that 'when a two boys enter the ring, it is of little importance who wins and who loses. What matters is that the pair of them leave that ring having learnt to be proper men'.



Monday, 23 April 2007

Brave Little Boxers

Such a sweet picture of two brave little boxers touching gloves in the ring.

Thanks to their PT master, the boys at my son's prep school were tutored in the rudiments of boxing and the Queensbury rules and I shall never forget their first contest. My son, David was paired with a lad of comparable size and both boys had their two-minute slot in the ring. Their gloves, even though designed for their 8-year old hands, were enormous and their heads did not even reach the height of the ropes!

None of this took away how brave the pair of them looked standing face to face in their boxing shorts ready to touch those enormous gloves of theirs and stand their ground like proper little men. It was a proud sight.

The boys circled each other probing one another's guards as they hopped from foot to foot, hoping to find a weakness and follow it though; grim determination on both boys' faces. Their PT master towered over them, his arms held outwards and slightly envelopping them as though somehow protecting the boys as he stooped over them and spoke to them in turn, reminding them of technique.

"Good boy, Atkins," he said softly to David, "keep your guard up, lad."

"Keep going, Chapman," he said to David's opponent, "in with the left, in with the right. Keep jabbing. keep him on his guard, Chapman."

The PT master, an ex-military man, spoke softly as a father would. His voice carried admiration for both of the boys as they continued to circle gently, probing each other's guard and seeking that split second lapse. Then, it happened. My lad managed to break through, delivering a quick volley of blows sending his opponent back towards the ropes.

"Good boy, Atkins!" the PT master's voice showed his admiration. "Keep going, Atkins, keep going!"

As the man spoke, he edged sideways, arms still envelopping the boys as he did so. As David's opponent touched the ropes, the PT master raised his right arm to signal David to stop.

Once David's opponent had regained his balance, nothing more happened. One minute remained during which both boys managed to keep their guard up and neither managed to break through. But it was no less a proud moment for it as the boys' parents watched their sons
taking a surefooted step closer to manhood.



Sunday, 12 November 2006

The Boxing Tournament


I remember a story that an elderly uncle would sometimes relate to friends and family about a school scout troop he sometimes accompanied as a leader to Hampshire on their annual camp back in the 1930s. The boys were mainly aged between 12 and 13 and were in their last year of prep school. Like most lads of that age they were full of energy and were well capable of getting up to silly things if given half the chance. Moreover, in proper schoolboy fashion, the boys were known to seek out a quiet place where they could sort out their differences with a pair of boxing gloves each and a circle of classmates to witness the event!

Towards the beginning of the camp, the weather was pretty dismal with that mournful, grey drizzle each morning. On one such morning, the local police sergeant set off for the station at the crack of dawn, not expecting much by way of action or anything unusual. After a mile or so of cycling, he heard voices emanating from over a hedgerow that shielded the corner of a small orchard. He stopped, got off his bicycle and investigated.

To his surprise, through a gap in the hedgerow, he made out a small cluster of boys standing beneath the relentless grey drizzle standing slightly huddled and undoubtedly feeling dank. More surprisingly, there were two other lads, both aged around twelve in nothing but PT shorts, sodden gym shoes and boxing gloves! The two lads touched gloves and proceeded to box. The police sergeant who was a fairly easy going sort looked at his watch and decided that he would let the lads carry on for a round before announcing his presence.

Indeed, the boys boxed for a couple of minutes and left a very favourable impression on their secret observer who applauded them on their technique, but insisted that he would now have to take them back to their respective camps. The police sergeant soon ascertained that the lads were from two different prep schools that were adjacent to each other and that there was a traditional rivalry between the boys. The boys explained that they had agreed a few days before to secretly leave their camps and settle their differences and had hoped to return without anybody being the wiser.

Soon after, the boys were returned to their respective camps just before their classmates were beginning to wake up. However, much to the boys’ consternation, the police sergeant decided to speak with my uncle and explained how he had found them. Later that morning, my uncle took both the boy who had participated in the boxing ‘match’ and his friends to the bottom of the field and gave each in turn a jolly good slippering for going ‘AWL’ and for taking school property without permission (i.e. the boxing gloves).

Very much in the spirit of their school, the boys took their punishment without complaint and my uncle thought nothing further of it. Until, the evening of the next day when he had a few hours off and popped into a public house for his usual brown ale and woodbine. There, the leader of the other school scout camp was already enjoying a beverage and was standing next to the police sergeant who was also off duty. Both leaders apologised to the police sergeant who insisted that they were only doing what young lads do and then expressed his admiration for the boys who had braved the early morning drizzle to settle their differences in the same way as he had done when he was a lad of their age. He then went on to explain how impressed he was with both boys’ technique and what a pleasure it had been to see two young lads boxing like men and concluded that both schools must have had very good PT instructors.

The police sergeant then made an off the cuff comment about how nice it would have been to see lads from both prep schools competing in a proper ring at the village fair due to take place that same Saturday afternoon. Apparently, both leaders immediately looked at each other and decided that a boxing tournament on what would be their final day would go down very well with the boys and asked if it would be possible to organise it at such very short notice.

On the evening before the fair, two young constables were assigned the task of securing four eight-foot wooden posts into the ground and securing rope around them at waist height along with four union jacks that fluttered proudly from the top of each corner of what was to be the boys’ boxing ring. In the meantime, the sergeant managed to enrol a group of lads from the church choir and local boys’ brigade who were not averse to putting on a pair of gloves and who therefore jumped at the chance to show off their skills at the village fair.

By all accounts, the weather was splendid on the day of the fair and the makeshift ring took pride of place with quite a crowd who watched as pairs of boys competed throughout the afternoon. A good many expressed what a proud sight it was to see the boys competing before so many and both schools made sure, from that point on, that the annual camp coincided with the village fair!