West Ham boxing club beckoned but before I became seriously involved as an amateur, I took part in a prize fight at Lacy Ladies in Seven Kings, east London, which I used to think was the best soul club in England. I had never been to a prize fight before, nor had it ever occurred to me to attempt prize fighting. My opponent was a guy called Lloyd who thought he was the English version of Marvin Hagler. Wrong - I was! The purse was £150, the biggest I had ever got. People used to go there to settle their differences. I had gone there only to watch but then thought it might be a good way to earn some cash. Lloyd was their local boy and had already dispatched several challengers. 'Any more challengers?' he asked ****ily. Lloyd was in his late 30s and when I stepped into the makeshift ring, wearing just my jeans, he told me he was going to beat me up. I had nothing lose and he didn't frighten me but he tried to laugh at me. He had seen big guys come and go and gave me lots of mouth. The audience were busily exchanging bets - some were actually backing me - or watching Lloyd attempt a psychological victory before punching me to the ground, or so he thought. I murdered him. I did two rounds with him and knocked him out. He said I was lucky. I said, 'Ta-ta,' took the money and left.
to your mom..
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