No headgear, no long-term experience, and ring girls. Is this amateur boxing or an excuse to beat three shades out of someone in front of your pals? Fight Night — an evening where fighters with such varied boxing experience get in the ring and battle it out for three rounds.
I was following amateur boxer and my friend, Luke Inger, on the night of his first fight. It was late November, and the weather was seasonally appropriate, with our suits being sodden after the 15-metre dash from the entrance of Newcastle Central station to The Metro. Just one stop to Gateshead on the green line. We were early, thirsty, and excited. We took a left, then a right, and we were face to face with the Grey Nag’s Head.
As we ordered our Guinness, our attire was quickly questioned by two pieces of furniture, nursing their John Smith’s. ‘We're watching our mate fight,’ we explained.
‘Are you betting?’
‘We'll see if there are any bookies!’ Joseff replied, half-joking. We all nodded along.
There would not be any bookies. We knew this was the case. But that didn’t stop us wishing, wishing for a chance to put our money where our mouths were as we gave Luke our good lucks, our you've worked so hards. We all agreed over a game of pool that we would definitely put at least a fiver on Luke to win. He was on home turf, fighting a medical student from across the river. Good odds.
A cab was hailed, we moved to the venue, and entered the arena—a coliseum. Some students were bubbling with anticipation, others just had stomachs bubbling with nerves before watching their mates bloody each other's noses. For Luke, every generation of friend was there: primary school, secondary school, college, and us—his relatively new friends from university. A group with the emotional weight to heat even the coolest of heads. Small talk about his preparation dwindled to a squeak as we all knew it was time for Luke to move up to his changing room.
People say you can sense tension in a room, but there was nothing covert about it in there. If a fighter was not hitting pads, they were sitting monastically, and Luke's reduced tone suddenly felt more appropriate. His head was filled with whispers of advice from all who had seen a fight that night—go easy in the first round, go for him in the first round, wait until he's knackered in the third. The goodwill, although I’m sure appreciated, was all for naught; Boxing has been called the loneliest sport in the world, and Luke knew exactly what he was going to do by himself in the ring. I’m sure people just wanted to be a part of the success like a pack of tiger mothers. Exhausted bodies fell into the red corner, and more youthful ones replaced them in the ring, and this conveyor belt continued to run until Luke became a cog.
Down the stairs and into the arena, pausing briefly before entering the ring so he could spin out to Dizzee Rascal. Luke would be fighting a rugby medic, someone whose university experience had been punctuated with exhibitionist acts of amateur aggression in front of his friends. We heard after the fight that nerves got to this pre-doctor to the point that his heart rate was dangerously high to fight, but it had calmed. They touched gloves.
Luke eventually lost the fight, even catching a rogue elbow to the eye, although this wasn’t his downfall as points had to be meticulously counted. We all knew Luke could box; he demonstrated this during the fight, being the more technically proficient boxer. We didn’t really have any idea how good he was, we just thought he was going to win based on a trust that your friends can always do what they put their heart and mind into. Quickly, the disappointment of the loss faded, and it was a moment where you realize that a cliché is a cliché for a reason. He tried his best and that’s all that mattered. He also engaged in a boxing match. It wasn’t just an outright brawl where two amateurs forget all their training with the ring and hordes of friends serving as blinders on athleticism and thought. As mentioned, Luke's opponent had experience when it came to things like this; Luke is just a damn good boxer.