By
TG Richardson
The tournament for the ACF boxing finals was to be held in the Gymnasium of the unit we were billeted at.
That evening the gym buzzed with excitement, In the centre a boxing ring had been erected and his was surrounded by folding chairs which filled the rest of the hall, There was a feeling of expectancy in the air, George and I wandered out to have a look at the ring, neither of us had ever boxed before in the ring. What we called a proper boxing ring. It looked vary daunting to say the least,
We joined the rest of the lads at about 7 p.m. for the weigh in, I felt extremely nervous, Several visits to the toilet were called for before my bladder seemed to settle down, All I had on was a pair of boxing shorts. I shivered as I stood in line to be weighed.
'Okay lad jump on the scales’
An official looking man was pointing at me, As I stood on the scales he noticed that my breasts were a little swollen, He pointed to them, and ‘Do they hurt at all'
I blushed with embarrassment and shook my head, 'Nothing to worry about lad it happens to all young lads at your age'. A sense of relief swept over me. I had to admit this point or should I say points had been worrying me for some time I thought I was turning into a girl!
“Seven stones and seven pounds, next'
I jumped off the scales and hastily put on my vest to cover my chest as quickly as possible. Emblazoned on my short was the emblem of the Durham Light Infantry, which was a bugle, All the ACF team was proud of that emblem. We were fighting for the regiment or so it had been drilled into us. I was fighting for myself I thought and the thrill of being the County Durham Champion,
One by one the boxers went out to the ring as the Tournament started, Some of the other boxers went out to watch the contests but George and I stayed in the dressing area, My bladder called again and off I trotted,
'How many times is that’? Asked George. 'Talk about “taking the piss”. There can’t be any left to take.”
Come on George your next followed by Gordon! Said Cess Ramsey, 'We seem to be doing okay all our lads are through the preliminary bouts to present, Let's hope it continues,'
'I'11 come and watch you’, I said to George, 'Do your best mate'
George did better than that. He came straight out at the bell hitting his opponent straight on the nose with a powerful straight left. The lad folded to the ground in obvious pain. There was a mandatory count of eight and the lad was back in the firing line. Three more of those lightening lefts in the face and there was blood everywhere. The referee jumped between them as George prepared to deliver another. It was all over. George had won on a technical knock out.
As I climbed into the ring to take George’s place in the blue corner the roof seemed to lift with the noise. Cess Ramsey looked at me. I must have looked nervous. 'Don't worry son once you start you forget everything but hitting 'im. If you don' hit ‘im he sure as god wil1 hit you'.
In the event I put up a reasonable show and at the end was judged to have done enough to go through to the finals. I could hardly wait to see George or one Punch Collins as he was now known. I had been on the end of that left punch of his many times and knew what punishment it could inflict.
The finals were to be held the following night. Another day of waiting I thought as I trotted off to the bogs again.
683 words 18 Nov 92 continue with finals and eventual presentation of medals,