Читать книгу Roy Shaw Unleashed - He's a one man killing machine. This is his story by those who know him best - Roy Shaw - Страница 11
ОглавлениеI’D HEARD A LOT ABOUT ALAN MINTER – UK BOXING LEGEND, BORN 17 AUGUST 1951, WORLD MIDDLEWEIGHT TITLE, BRITISH MIDDLEWEIGHT TITLE, EUROPEAN MIDDLEWEIGHT TITLE – BUT WE’D NEVER MET BEFORE.
He’d agreed to talk about Roy while we were at the book launch at the pub. I thought that maybe he’d come across and introduce himself – ‘Hello, Kate … how are you … nice day.’ No chance. Alan is used to having things his way and, when I eventually caught his attention, he just nodded and pointed to an empty chair at his table. All right. No problem. I pushed my way through the crowd.
Alan was dressed for the occasion, a £500 navy-blue Crombie overcoat, whiter-than-white shirt, snazzy silk tie. He looked every inch the retired World Champion boxer with a face like well-worn granite and he wasn’t smiling.
As he greeted me, I noticed his hands. I couldn’t help thinking about the damage those rock-hard knuckles had inflicted on human flesh.
I sat in the chair opposite; there were no preliminaries, we were straight into it.
‘How long have you known Roy?’
Alan thought for a moment. ‘I’d heard about him before I even saw him fight. In those days, all the up-and-coming boxers trained at the Thomas A’Beckett – it was in the Old Kent Road and everybody who was anybody or was going to be anybody came out of that gym. Roy was one of the youngsters to watch out for – he’d built up a reputation for himself.’
‘What sort of reputation?’
‘Right from the start we all knew he was a hard bloke – a man who gave out a lot of punishment. There were murmurs about his life outside.’
‘Do you mean crime?’
‘Let’s say we knew he wasn’t a man who took prisoners. When you get a man who doesn’t know the meaning of fear or pain, it always builds up a following.’
‘And that was Roy?’
Alan nodded. ‘He was with one of the best trainers around, a man called Danny Holland. And the Thomas A’Beckett was the best gym in London. So he’d got himself well placed from the start. Danny wouldn’t have taken him on unless there’d been a lot of potential.’
‘What did you think of him as a fighter?’
Alan narrowed his eyes. ‘Well, Roy had the killer instinct all right.’
‘He still does!’
‘I don’t doubt it. I’ve been in his company. I know he’s the business.’
‘Did you see Roy socially?’ These two out on the town was something to think about.
‘We used to have a drink or two … we liked going to a club in the West End – we’d generally finish up there. Winding down after we’d had a boxing do.’
‘For the fight after the fight?’
Alan managed a weak smile. ‘There’s a buzz of adrenalin that takes a while to get out of your system. You’re not feeling anything physical – the pain or anything. That’s the next day. You’re still revved up. You have to get it out of your body.’
‘So it got a bit exciting at times?’
‘You could say that. It didn’t take much to set him off – but Roy could handle himself all right. I know the power of the man. When he set off, he was unstoppable. When he was going in, shit-all wouldn’t make him change his mind. The man was and still is a right hard bastard.’
His words had a chilling effect. Coming from Alan, this was strong stuff. The man is no angel himself. In a fight in Italy, at the height of his career, his opponent died of the injuries he sustained.
He paused and took a sip of his drink, malt whisky and water. ‘With Roy, once he started a ruck, it was personal. You knew he meant it.’
‘What about his fights in the ring? Do you think he’d have made British Champion.’
Alan nodded. ‘Without a doubt. Yes, he could have done it. There was no one to match him at the time. I don’t know that there have been many to match him since. He was quick and he had a hell of a punch. A very strong man. And he had it written all over his face.’
‘What?’
‘It’s hard to explain. Violence. Staring you down. Everybody backed off from him. There was something in his expression. You don’t see it very often. But when you do …’ His words hung in the air.
‘Stand clear?’
‘Yes, that’s it, Kate. You know what’s coming and you don’t want to go there.’
I saw Roy out of the corner of my eye, he was crossing to the bar and everybody was moving out of the way. He looked over to me and smiled and held up his glass. ‘Want another drink?’ he mouthed. I shook my head. Alan was looking round as though he was going to bite someone’s head off. I tried to imagine what it was like when these two went out on the razzle.
‘When you used to go clubbing, did you ever see Roy lose his rag?’
Alan shook his head. ‘No. Roy’s a gentleman. If someone took liberties, that was a different thing. He’s not a man you’d want to cross. If you did, you’d be in trouble. I think most people accept that.’
‘What about the bare-knuckle fights?’
Alan’s face was without expression. He shrugged as though he didn’t know what I was talking about.
‘When he fought Lenny McLean?’
‘Naw, I don’t know anything about that.’ He passed his empty glass to his gofer for a top up and pointed to my mineral water. I shook my head. Why was he being so evasive?
‘Come on, Alan. I think you’re giving me a load of bull now.’ I was getting fed up with him pussy-footing around. ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t know Lenny McLean.’
The whisky arrived and he took a careful sip. ‘Yeah. Course I did. Lenny McLean … the Guv’nor. He’s dead now.’
‘God rest his soul.’
Alan raised his glass. ‘Amen to that.’ He leaned forward and lowered his voice confidentially. ‘I know more about Lenny than any man who’s ever lived. Lenny used to drive me home when I was drunk. I used to have a good night out at the Hippodrome in London. Roy did as well. Lenny used to get me home. Drive me down to where I lived in Reigate.’
I was going to say ‘that was every week then’, but I looked again at his fists. No, I wasn’t going to push my luck.
‘What about the fight between Roy and Lenny?’
‘It had been coming a long time. It had to happen. London wasn’t big enough for both of them. They both had reputations. A following. Territory. You see, Roy had heard that Lenny was causing trouble for a pal of his – he had a pub in Hoxton.’
‘What kind of trouble?’
‘Lenny was a gangster. I don’t know what he was doing to upset them but, anyway, Roy said he’d sort it. He went to the pub to have a word with Lenny. But he wasn’t there and Roy couldn’t find him.’
‘So the word spread that he was looking for him?’
‘That’s right. At that time, when the name McLean crept up in conversation, people would say, “Hold on … keep moving.” He was a hard bastard and a fucking huge guy. He was awesome.’
‘What did Roy do?’
‘He laid the money on the table to have a bare-knuckle fight with him. It was an understanding that the winner took the lot.’
‘And did Lenny agree?’
‘Sure. He matched him. The venue was Sinatra’s nightclub in Croydon and it was packed.’
‘Did you go?’
‘I couldn’t have missed it. I think Roy had a bit of a shock when Lenny climbed into the ring. He’d never set eyes on him before. He was a fuckin’ big bloke. They couldn’t find a pair of gloves to fit him to start off – his hands were like meat plates.’
‘And Roy?’
‘There was no way he matched him for size but as for guts … Roy only knew one way to fight – to win. He steamed into him straight away, hitting him in the body. Lenny was pretty confident to start with, he thought it was just another fight. He was calling out to the crowd, “Look, he can’t hurt me.”
‘He didn’t think it was going to be any trouble. There hadn’t been anybody to match him. But all of a sudden he realised that Roy was different. Roy stuck him one on his chin and he felt it. Roy was a slugger, and he didn’t know what it meant to lose.’ Alan stood up suddenly, his fists jabbing the air. Bam! Bam! Bam!
I ducked back against the wall. Wow! Alan was still up for it, shadow boxing a ghost from the past. ‘Roy went forward all the time, like this … jabbing … jabbing … jabbing. Not letting up. He tracked him round the ring. It was savage. He kept up some heavy body punches. Smashing his ribs. Lenny was staggering. He was in agony. He was being crucified. Roy was still full of it. He’d got plenty left. He was tracking McLean like a hunted fox. But there was nowhere for him to go, Roy was all over him like a rash.’ Alan was ducking and weaving, reliving his own fights through other men’s stories. ‘There was blood everywhere. Roy was swinging punches and Lenny was holding on to the ropes. You could see he’d had enough.’
But the past is one fight that no one can win and, as Lenny ran out of steam, Alan also sat down heavily.
‘It must have been a bit of an upset.’
Alan shook his head. ‘It might have rattled some. Maybe if they hadn’t seen Roy fight before. But it was never in doubt. And definitely not after the first round. That was something else.’
‘It was that violent?’
‘Oh dear. Lenny was actually dripping blood. He was having his face smashed to a pulp. The floor was slippery. Everybody knew that Roy wasn’t going to let him go. It was like the gladiators in the Colosseum – the crowd were roaring their heads off. Lenny was groaning, he was doubled up. You could see he wanted to chuck it in.’
‘So they finished it?’
‘No. They couldn’t. Roy was still steaming. He was going on. There was no stopping him. He’d got himself psyched up for it and … well, it was a massacre. They managed to get him off eventually. Roy would have kept at it until he’d finished him.’
‘Do you mean killed him?’
Alan shrugged.
‘So, you would say that Roy’s a wild man when he gets going?’
‘Roy Shaw is one of the most respected and looked-up-to men in London today. You’d have to be a fool to try to cross him. Or not have heard of him. He’s one of the most dangerous men as well.’
I glanced across at Roy; he was chatting up a beautiful blonde young lady at the bar. He can be as soft as marshmallow when it suits.
‘If he’d got his British boxing licence and gone professional, Roy thinks it would have made a hell of a difference to his life.’
Alan agreed. ‘Without a doubt. He’d have had everything he wanted – legit.’
‘If you could have matched him with anyone to make a top fight, who would it have been?’
There was no hesitation. ‘Rocky Marciano.’
‘Why?’
‘Because they’re the same. Powerful men. They weigh their opponent up and go to the finish.’
There was one question I had to ask. ‘Alan, you were World Champion. Would you have fought Roy?’
He leaned back and thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully. ‘You can ask him if he’d have fought me. But that’s not a challenge,’ he said in a flat voice.
I had one last question. ‘You and Roy have moved in the same circles for a long time. You must have heard a lot of stories about him.’
Alan nodded. ‘Without a doubt.’
‘There must be something you know that not many other people do.’
His expression changed.
I went on anyway. ‘Come on, Alan. I love secrets. Are you going to tell me a secret about Roy?’
The shutters came down straight away. Alan set his glass down and edged to get up.
‘I don’t know one,’ he said. I was left in no doubt that the interview was over.
Roy was making his way across to us through the crush. He walked to the door with Alan and they looked at each other straight in the eyes. Then they shook hands and Alan Minter left without another word.
‘How did that go?’ Roy sauntered back, smiling. Friend or foe, he doesn’t give a damn.
