Steve Bunce writes: The purity of amateur debut is as important as the grandeur we saw at O2
LITTLE Harleigh Cosgrave threw the punches during her showcase at the Boston Dome in north London on Sunday afternoon. Just 14 hours earlier, she was standing in her chair and throwing punches at O2 while Claressa Shields was fighting.
Harleigh Cosgrave is 10 years old, welcome to the new world order in ancient boxing.
The show at the iconic Dome, a venue once honored by Anthony Joshua and Dubliners, welcomes boxing back after a five-year gap. It was a show in Islington and there were 19 shows. Never say fight real purists, remember that.
I forgot and innocently asked about Harleigh’s fights. I was reminded: “They are squabbles, Steve. The answer is no, Sunday was her first match, and it lasted more than three innings a minute. It wasn’t a skill match; it is real and there has been a final decision.
This place is packed with family, friends and dad. Not always the same. The Islington Club is a big business with more than 2,000 members and classes every day, usually from 7 a.m. until late at night. On Sunday, Harleigh wasn’t even the youngest boxer. It’s a special place, a building in the heart of several communities.
“She was my little star, my little boxer diva,” Sabrina Edwards told me, as we watched from the stage as Harleigh got ready to enter the ring. Edwards is a member of the committee at the gym and acts as a ‘base coordinator’. The real-life London version of American Soccer Mom; Looks like everyone has come to her.
“She takes boxing very seriously,” Sabrina told me. “She would be upset with herself if she had a bad guy.”
The big girls – Islington has 16 girls and the women have cards – they all seem to know Harleigh. Each seemed to be trying to tell her something as she warmed up near the bar before having a seizure.
The entire show is a sweet reminder of how this dirty and crazy sport still works with grassroots purity; at the Boston Dome, in the shadow of 50 men and women standing, laughing and drinking beer, a tiny six-pack is getting ready for her first duel. She is about to embark on a journey that all of the greatest men and women in our sport will never forget. Ask any boxer and they will recall the details of that first fight, the venue, the opponents, the prize. Pain and glory. Joy and even tears. And yes, there are always tears when kids are 10, 11 and 12 years old.
Harleigh climbed over the ropes and asked to protect her head. Her ponytail fell back and her hair pierced through every crevice of the guard.
“Girls, listen to that,” said the MC. It is very large.
I asked Harleigh about the fights at O2. It was a big night for her, overwhelming for a small child. I can remember watching fights at her age. I can remember parts of it and there are programs with my notes somewhere. I can’t remember actual details from the Royal Albert Hall and Manor Place Baths when I was 10 years old. But how can you forget a night like O2 last Saturday?
“She can box, don’t worry,” I was told by Mick Doherty, former boxer and Islington club president, when I asked him about Harleigh. And, Islington matchmaker Reggie Hagland – they were called the old amateur game’s competition secretary – told me the same thing.
And she can and so can her opponents. It’s a quality little game. It’s the kind of game where the referee is just a little bit closer, a little bit closer to the action. It’s not a sport of heart and guts when two boxers are eleven and eleven and weigh just as much as Claressa Shields. It’s a sport of ultimate values - a distant link to the disturbances that too often leave scars in the professional game. It was a good afternoon at the Boston Dome, a clear afternoon.
After 180 seconds of boxing, the referee pulled the two girls to the middle of the ring. Harleigh took a tissue and wiped some of the blood off his nose. The match was non-stop, and the crowd played hard. The decision goes against her. She was upset, of course. Exactly 12 hours before, at 1:15, I was unable to interview Mikaela Mayer because she was so emotional. I understood with Mayer, and I understood when Sabrina shook her head and I had to step back from talking to little Harleigh.
I then witnessed a procession of boys, girls, and women go by and talk to her. Micky May, the legendary coach at West Ham, always insists that “we win together, we lose together”. Little Harleigh Cosgrave is being told about all the great gladiators who lost their first fight. She was told it would make her a better boxer. “We all lose, we get stronger from it,” a boy about 12 years old told her. It’s hard to invent this thing. She held back her tears and listened, a small girl with a dream of boxing. I think they don’t do weekends like that anymore.
My search for Skye Kettle, who defeated Harleigh, was fruitless. She must have jumped straight into a car and driven the 50 miles back to Chalvedon in time for Sunday lunch. Harleigh left with his father an hour later, still a little quiet. “She will be back,” Sabrina told me. I don’t doubt it for a second.
