Wild Thing by Bernard O'Mahoney, Lew Yates Page A

awesome fighter; few that had fought him had lasted more than a round. ‘Despite his record,’ Ray had said, ‘I reckon you could beat him.’
    As I sat listening to Shaw on the radio, I started to laugh. Shaw told the presenter that he wanted to fight Muhammad Ali. ‘I could beat him,’ he said. ‘In fact I can beat anybody.’
    The presenter, astonished as I was by Shaw’s boasting, asked, ‘Anybody, Roy? Are you claiming that you can beat anybody?’
    ‘Yes,’ replied Shaw, brimming with confidence. ‘In fact if anybody is prepared to fight me, I will wager £10,000 I’ll beat them.’
    I nearly choked on my lunch when I heard this. Here I was, struggling to find work to support my wife and children, and a guy my friend had told me I could beat was promising £10,000 to anybody who could defeat him. At that time the average cost of a house in London was £13,500; today it is approaching £300,000, so the wager Shaw offered was quite substantial by anybody’s standards. I ran out the back door, jumped on my bike and pedalled like fury to the nearest telephone box. ‘Ray, Ray, listen to me,’ I said when my friend picked up the phone. ‘Get in touch with Roy Shaw and tell him your friend Lew has just heard his challenge on Radio One. Tell him that Lew said he wants a part of Roy Shaw. He wants to meet him, beat him and take his ten grand.’ Ray said that he would contact Shaw as soon as possible and get back to me.
    When Jean came home, I sat her down and said I had some good news. ‘You’ve found a job, haven’t you, Lew?’ she beamed.
    ‘Kind of,’ I replied.
    Jean’s face displayed her disappointment. ‘Kind of’ could only mean there was some sort of catch. Jean knew the good news would be followed by a devastating big ‘but’. ‘What’s the story then, Lew?’ she asked.
    ‘I am going to London to fight a guy named Roy Shaw,’ I replied. ‘They say he is the best, but if I beat him, and I know I can, I get £10,000 in prize money.’
    Jean was neither excited nor despondent. She just looked up at me and said, ‘If you have to go, Lew, then go.’
    The following morning I headed for London. When I arrived at Ray’s flat, I was introduced to Roy Shaw’s friend Brian Jacobs. He told me that he was going to be acting as a go-between for both parties, and I said I had no problem with that. ‘Has Roy ever met you, Lew?’ Brian asked.
    ‘No, he hasn’t,’ I replied. ‘Why do you ask?’
    ‘No reason,’ Brian said. ‘I am just looking at the size of you and imagining he hasn’t.’
    Moments later Brian left to begin the process of arranging the most lucrative fight of my life. There was not a shadow of doubt in my mind that I would win. I had been training hard at Eric’s gym and every ounce of my 17.5 st. muscular frame was bursting with energy. I was physically and mentally sharp. Eric’s experience, expertise and training skills had perfected my ring craft. With all due respect to Roy Shaw, I didn’t think he stood a chance against me.
    When Brian returned from his meeting with Shaw and his manager, I could tell by the expression on his face that my challenge had not been accepted. ‘There’s a problem,’ Brian said. ‘Roy will fight you, but he now wants you to pay £10,000 up front. He will match it, and at the end of the fight it will be winner takes all.’
    Shaw couldn’t have hit me as hard as this news hit me. ‘Where the fuck am I going to get £10,000 from? He didn’t say all this when he was on the radio.’
    Brian, unable to answer for his friend Shaw, said, ‘That’s what I have been told to tell you, Lew, and more than that I cannot say.’
    The journey home to Jean and the children was torture. I was dreading facing them. I had departed with promises of wealth and was returning home empty-handed. My face said it all when Jean opened the door. She didn’t speak; she just hugged me and said, ‘Never mind, Lew, you tried.’ But I had not tried; the fight