“How’s the head?”
“Alright actually, nothing a few painkillers haven’t sorted.”
I was pleasantly surprised when I received this text, just over 20 minutes ago. It’s from my brother and means, that despite the repeated right hooks that were planted on his face last night, he isn’t brain-damaged. Last night? You may recall the blog ‘My brother has been beaten up…’ that I posted last week about The Lily Foundation and the boxing fundraiser, well this was last night. Last night was fight night.
I’d never been to a boxing match before and – aside from an Olympic curiosity crush on Nicola Adams – the sport hasn’t ever appealed to me. Beating people up, hurting people and trying to knock people out seems rather unsporting. Where are the goals? Where’s the team spirit? Boxing struck me as a human version of cock-fighting – and wasn’t that banned?
However, as my previous blog touched on – if there is any cause that reasons being beaten up, then The Lily Foundation is it. So I locked my prejudices and preconceptions away in the back of my mind and set off with my sisters and friends to the event’s venue – Notting Hill’s Supperclub.
Brother wasn’t on until 11 p.m, we arrived at 9 p.m just in time for the first fight. I hadn’t thought that three 3-minute rounds sounded like much – I was wrong. Within 30 seconds blood was pouring out of one of the fighter’s nostrils and after two minutes I was convinced that the paramedics sitting in the ambulance outside were going to have to be called in. And that was just in the first round. But even though I found the punches, the blood and the thumping sound of limbs colliding distressing, I couldn’t look away. It was riveting, exciting, addictive and highly entertaining.
That was when I didn’t know the fighters though; it was a very different story as the clock struck 11.01 p.m and my own flesh and blood entered the ring.
(Brother Charles in the black)
At this point, despite the ample amount of vodka diet cokes coursing through my veins, I felt sick with nerves…and as the bell went, this just got worse.
It just seemed to go on and on and on and on, but as my heart raced and as I screamed and screamed, I realised that I wasn’t shouting ‘stop’, I was shouting for my brother to: “hit him, hit him, hit him.” I was completely absorbed.
It wasn’t to be though, and after the 9 minutes had run its course, it was the opposition that was declared victor.
In a true display of sportsmanship, the pair embraced and reminded the audience why we were there – to support a great cause, not just to beat the crap out of fellow-men. The boxers raised over £10,000 for The Lily Foundation – a truly fantastic achievement.
Next time Charles wants to raise money for charity though, I wish he would run a marathon…I don’t think I could cope with another round of this.