text: INSIDE THE SQUARE CIRCLE Walking up front street past the Esso garage in North Shields, three miles past Newcastle upon Tyne the smoke from the coal fires rose up through chimney's on the houses of the notorious Ridges Estate climbed high into the sky. The houses had been built to house the fishermen and shipyard workers in the town in 1948 after the outbreak of Tuberculosis and other diseases caused by poor living conditions forced the council to build a new housing estate. The smell caught the back Terry’s throat as he crossed the road onto Scorer Street. His legs ached as he looked left and right as his mother had taught him. He coughed then took the strap from his haversack he was carrying and readjusted it. It had his plimsolls, vest, and a pair of football shorts that were way too big for him inside. Slinging it back over his shoulder, he hurried along towards the North Shields Boys Club on Scorer Street where he'd been a member for just over a year. passing the park he looked inside through the wooden railings to see if he could see anyone he knew. There was swings being used by some older boys who stood on the wooden seats and worked the swings higher and higher. There was a shuggy boat and a slide that no one was using because it was soaking wet from the rain that had came down in torrents that afternoon. The tennis courts at the back of the park had large puddles as well, no one could play when the ground was wet. However, it did not deter the boys playing football near the toilets at the bottom end of the park. Terry walked on he had to be at the boys club for six o'clock to meet Joe Myers his boxing coach. Joe Myers was a black ex-professional boxer had come over to England from Jamaica like a lot of Jamaicans and Africans on the Emperor Windrush during the early 1940's. Joe had fought on boxing shows in South Shields and Newcastle's St James Hall. It was a hard way to make a living but that’s what he did to feed his family. When he retired he took up various labouring jobs. Then someone approached him and asked if he would teach boxing at the Boys Club, Joe agreed and three times each week he would turn up in his free time to teach kids how to box. That all changed when Terry started. Joe then turned up every night for two years to train him. For over six months he sweated and strained to do exercises specially designed to strengthen his legs. Every night he did the same set of leg exercises until his thighs burned with the effort. Fifteen years Joe ended up coaching boys at the club, it had had passed by so quickly. Joe was now in his early fifties, he was was still enthusiastic and he had a fine boxing team. Terry remembered the very first time he met the man who was to change his life forever. Terry walked through the double doors leading into the North Shields boys club where he was met by a broad shouldered man wearing a brown tweed coat. His hair was neatly combed and he wore a walrus moustache. He ushered Terry into his office where he explained the rules of the club. Looking down at the young boy Harry Martin realised that this young boy was limited to what he could do. Going into a drawer on his large wooden desk he pulled out a set of darts and handed them to the boy. “Come with me son said the club leader and Terry followed. Harry led the boy through another door into an empty room. The first thing to hit Terry’s nose was the smell of stale sweat and lineament. It was the same stuff his father used on his bad leg. Harry showed him the dart board then walked away and left him to it. Terry stood awkwardly in his calliper boots trying to hit a dartboard that resembled the back of a camels arse. It was old and all the stuffing was coming out of it. The lime green coloured wall where the dartboard was fixed onto had many tiny dots on it where people thrown darts that had missed and hit the wall. There was also small pinholes on the red lino flooring that covered the floor where the darts had bounced out of the board. Four yellow painted doors surrounded the room. One led into another room where there hung several punching bags. the red painted floor had some hard rubber mats that they used for doing floor exercises. in the left hand corner of the room there was a speed ball and a platform that the boxers used to stand on to reach it. Further on there was an old bike on rollers. If sat on wrongly it would spring up and you would fall off. There was a long mirror on the opposite wall used for shadow boxing. Another door led to the changing rooms and a shower. This was something of a luxury to Terry who had never used a shower before because he only got bathed once a week in his house and that was on a Sunday. He usually went in with his younger brother to save on the hot water. The rest of the time he had to wash himself using the stone sink in the scullery. There was another door in the changing room that led to the upstairs gym where football, judo and gymnastics took place. A head popped around the door later that evening and the boy saw a large black man wearing a trilby hat, a white shirt, and jacket. His big brown eyes widened as he looked at the boy and said "Has you seen ma' boxers.' "No Sir, I'm the only one here Terry replied timidly.' He stood looking at the boy then said in a softly spoken voice "Do you wanna' be a boxer? "Me box? I cant, I have to wear this thing on my leg.' looking down the man saw that the boy was wearing a pair calliper Boots which had a metal brace strapped around the lower part of his knee. "How long you been wearing that thing on your leg sonny? "Since I was three I think, mam says I had to wear special shoes when I began to walk, but I kept on falling down so they operated on me then gave me these boots to wear.' "Well I can help to strengthen that leg of yours if you let me.’ "Will you, really? “Yes, come with me sonny.' The Terry’s boots reverberated off the lino flooring as he followed the big man. The man walked smoothly like a giant panther to the cupboard and reaching inside it he picked up what looked like a leather football. "Now see this here ball? I want you to lie on the mat there and place this ball between you legs and try and lift it. Can you do that for me?' "Yes sir, The boy got down onto the floor area onto one of the mat's. It was cold against the skin of his thighs because he was wearing short pants. He tried to hide the hole in the back that had been patched, it was coming away and there was a small hole that showed his bum. Forgetting that, he tried as hard as he could to lift the ball. He could only get it only a few inches off the floor. Joe began to set out the equipment but kept watching. "Now sonny,' you keep doing that until I come back. take a rest if you gets tired you hear.' "Yes, said the Terry panting.' Some five minutes had elapsed which had seemed like a lifetime when the man returned. "Okay you can rest now.' "Can you get up on your own?' Terry got up shakily then looked at the black man who was carrying a large pair of boxing gloves. They were brown in colour and made from leather and stuffed with horse hair. "Come here sonny, and put on these here gloves.' Walking nervously towards the man the boy stuck out a skinny little arm the man pulled on the glove that came right up to the elbow. Once the man had tied it Terry gave him his other arm. When he was done. the man asked" Is you Orthodox or southpaw? "None of those said Terry enthusiastically, I come from North Shields.' The man threw back his head and began to laugh. "What's so funny?' "Look,' if you had to fight someone how would you hold your hands?’ "I don't fight, cannot fight, I get bullied at school.’ "Well, once I teach you how to box those bullies are going to regret ever picking on you. Now show me how you hold your hands up.' Watching the dark skinned man said" you is orthodox, that means that you will lead with your left hand like this. The boy watched in amazement as the man threw jabs at lightning speed. "Now you try' The boy stuck out his left over and over. "Hey,’ you is good, you is going to make a good boxer. "Really?' "Yesum you is.' Now see this here hand? I want you to punch it.' Holding out the huge paw the boy then proceeded to punch it as hard as he could. "How many times did you hit that boy? "Three times.' "Good,' now I am going to move my hand and I want you to hit it again okay? "Yes sir,' Moving his hands quickly in all directions the boy tried to hit the target but failed. "See that, now if the hand was your head and you kept it still you would get hit every time but if it is moving you will hardly ever get hit and that is the art of boxing. You Hit the other guy without being hit back. Do you understand? "Yes,'I see.' "Now see this here, it’s called a spring ball, now after I adjust it I want you to use your jab, now its going to move so keep your eyes on it and then try to punch it. The boy holding his gloves up in the orthodox stance hit the ball as it moved. "Now erm, what's your name anyway?' "Terry.' Right then Terry, move around the ball like this and jab like me.' Copying the actions of the black man Terry moved around the ball sticking out the jab. "You is a natural born boxer.' Just then the door opened and in walked a young man with a neatly trimmed beard. he was wearing a flat cap on his head. "Is this your new student then Joe? "Yesum, this boy is going to be a champion.' "Him a boxer, he'll never make a boxer as long as he has a hole in his arse.’ "We will see.’ said Joe Confidently. This man here Terry is Eric Clarke, he is my second. Terry looked at the man and nodded then added “What’s your name then? “You can call me Joe.’ All that evening Joe showed Terry different punches on the heavy bag and Terry copied his every move. Terry, can you skip? "What like a girl? "No like a boxer, look Joe took off his jacket rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt and began to skip using some leather ropes. They whizzed around and his feet moved rhythmically as he danced over the rope. "Now you try.' Terry picked up the rope and tried over and over but could not get it to do what Joe had done. His left leg just couldn't get off the red lino on the floor. It hit his leg over and over and then stopped. "Okay Terry listen, I want you to come tomorrow at the same time bring some shorts a vest and some sand shoes if you have any.' I'm going to give you a set of exercises to do and you must do them every night. This will strengthen your legs okay "Yes,’I'll be here,' Terry said enthusiastically. Joe and Eric began pulling out ropes from the cupboard and Terry offered to help. The two men fixed what looked like block and tackle into the four corners of the room then fixed metal hooks into the eyes and began to tighten them up until it formed a boxing ring. Some young men who Terry figured were boxers came in from doing a run, they were sweating profusely. The sweat dripped onto the lino as they began to put on head guards and then stuck what looked like chewing gum into there mouths. "What's that thing that they have in their gob? the boy asked inquisitively? That is what's called a gumshield, stops you from getting your teeth knocked out said Eric Clarke with a wry grin, the man who had said earlier that he would never make a boxer. Terry thought to himself that he would prove him wrong. Eric Clarke had been one of Joe’s boxers, now retired he was now helping out in the gym. The ring made of rope was secured to the wall was now tightened up and Eric leaned back against it to test it out. Each of the other fighters leaned back on the ropes too test them as if it were some kind of ritual. When they were all gloved up sparring commenced. Terry watched as they moved as graceful as ballet dancers, shuffling and sliding, slipping punches the way Joe had shown him earlier. The sound that emitted from their mouths was like a hissing snake, then a grunt would sound when a punch connected. Joe was shouting instructions to both men from outside the ring as the other boxers who had been running looked on encouraging each boxer. "Time shouted Eric and both men then walked around the room sucking up air. After one minute they were at it again. On it went for six more gruelling rounds. Steam rose from the backs of each man as their gloves were untied and the next pair of gladiators got into the ring. Terry was fascinated, he so wanted to be like them. He was even more determined to prove Eric wrong. Later that evening Terry walked out of the door he had entered He walked slowly home with with the black ex-boxer, who got some strange looks off people as they passed. Terry didn’t understand about colour prejudice even though he lived amongst many black families on the Ridges estate. Terry began to ask Joe lots of questions about boxing. Joe calmly answered them all. I guess he'd answered those same questions to umpteen young boys who had come into his gym to learn the noble art over the years. Joe left Terry at the corner of Laburnum Avenue. That was the beginning of Terry's boxing career, a journey that would last some twenty two years.