An after dark refuge for the boredom
of wild lads, that would otherwise turn bad.
Hitting the pads they came to understand routine
know what discipline means, when told to break.
Rocky music raised the pulse here,
as boxers, not dead-beats skipped to the beat
Hard work, bumps and bruises
came their way; a little blood as well.
A few found their calling; most
found self respect to be the greatest prize.
Lessons learned in a hard knock life
by lads now grown, mostly
with their heads on straight.
But that was then;
Condemned now, this place has become
a boarded-up building empty of hope,
one less place to go and repeated
everywhere! With time to kill
wild lads now spill, from darker corners
as heavier blows land upon frailer chins.
What ‘did’ we expect?
This new lot can’t box smart.
We haven’t given them the tools.
They’re hitting out, blinded
to the damage being done
by cuts they cannot see...
This wont end well
Note; not part of anything to do with the Olympics - timing is just coincidental.