7.

The following morning, against his better judgement, Ted dropped his training bag to his feet, picked up the remote and turned on the morning sports show. A segment on a surfing competition was finishing, but his ears pricked up when anchor Erica Dunne came on screen.

‘To boxing now, and in breaking news, Australia is set to host one of the biggest series of fights in boxing history, if American boxing promoter and tycoon Ben Kelton’s word is anything to go by. For his take on this significant announcement, I’m joined by senior writer for Boxing Australasia, Jacob Caro. Before we get into the details, Jacob, how does this happen so quickly? Boxing fans are familiar with long waits between fights, and the politics that dictate who fights who. This seems too good to be true.’

Caro appeared via video call, looking even scruffier than usual, presumably joining from his loungeroom. The low angle of his computer camera emphasised his thick, hairy forearms.

‘Well, it’s further proof, if any were needed, that these are extraordinary times, Erica. But for us it’s one of the few good-news sports stories of this pandemic. Australia – excluding Victoria, of course – is in an enviable position, in that we can still host events, and the fighters are already here. This series of fights – at least most of them – would have taken place in due course, but certainly not here in Australia. However, with the diabolical Covid situation in America, Kelton and the relevant authorities have made a call that seeing as Kelton’s fighters are here – and not all of them are American nationals so they could have issues just getting back into the States – they’re going to stay here and get on with the show.’

‘America’s pain is our gain! So Jacob, let’s look at the contenders. When Reggie Harrison was suspended for faking a Covid test, they called in veteran Ron Taylor to make up the numbers. But he threw a major spanner in the works by defeating the champion, Jarred Leroy. I never thought I’d see Ron Taylor fighting on the big stage again, but Ron has well and truly put himself back in the mix, given that he knocked Leroy out.’

‘What a fluke that was! But, yes, Ron Taylor is in the mix, as you say. We’ll see the highly anticipated rematch between Mexico’s Jason Lopez and the Nigerian-born Dion Rushkin, after a sensational draw earlier this month.’

‘Just on that, Jacob, many thought Lopez was a clear winner. This is not the first time one of Ben Kelton’s fighters has been – how do I put this – a beneficiary of a rather dubious decision by the judges.’

Kelton did have a knack for ensuring the dominoes fell in his favour. Ted wondered which way Ben wanted him to topple.

‘Well, that’s a tough one, Erica. Either way, it sets up an epic rematch. Then we have Australia’s own Little Boy Blue. Teddy Taylor just fought and lost his third consecutive fight at middleweight. He’s now scheduled to fight a yet-to-be-announced light heavyweight, for the opportunity to touch gloves with the suspended Reggie Harrison in what they’re calling an “unsanctioned fight”.’

‘Whatever that means. Can you explain this for us, Jacob?’

‘Well, it may be that Kelton has convinced the powers that be that these are extenuating circumstances and Harrison should be allowed to fight in an exhibition of sorts, which will have no official bearing on his professional ranking or record regardless of the outcome. This really is uncharted territory. As for Teddy, it’s no secret that I’ve had my run-ins with the Taylors over the years, but I really feel for Little Boy Blue. Poor guy’s been dudded here. They dangled a carrot and he chomped at it. Now, there’s every chance that Taylor already had his proverbial ticket to Palookaville following three straight losses, but this fight against Harrison is putting him on the express train.’

Ted’s anger rose. Poor me? Maybe he’s right.

‘Jacob, it’s common to see fighters moving up and down divisions, but to jump from middle to heavy so quickly – isn’t that unheard of?’

‘Look, boxers have made that transition – Roy Jones Junior for one. Key word here is transition – it’s not something that happens overnight. The unfortunate reality for Ted is that he doesn’t have the star power or the belts around his waist to attract a drawcard fighter to those stepping-stone divisions. Moving up divisions could save his career. But this latest development is a shortcut, and in my opinion spells the beginning of the end.’

‘Who knows, Jacob, if he stays in the heavyweight division, we could have an all-Australian, Taylor versus Taylor fight on our hands.’

‘Well, that would be a desperate and pathetic end to two careers.’

Ted pressed the off button with more force than necessary. His arm twitched as he stopped himself from throwing it into the wall.

Ted usually took a short break from intense training after a fight. Light weights and cardio helped to keep the weight that he desperately shed pre-fight from piling on too quickly during recovery. After fasting for nearly two days in the lead-up to his recent fight, he’d made the weight by only a matter of grams. He remembered feeling frail and vulnerable when stepping up to the podium at the weigh-in. His bones seemed so brittle they might break if he walked too fast. Ted reached out to Andrew Baker, a well-regarded strength and conditioning coach he had worked with briefly when he was last in America. Andrew had relocated back to Australia as the pandemic broke out and was keen to work with Ted. Ted made the call to Andrew, and later that same morning found himself at the gym Andrew was working out of.

Ted hesitantly removed his shirt, revealing what he saw as the anorexic-looking state of his starved body.

His weight and muscle mass had built up quickly post his recent fight. But standing in his underwear as two gym staff finished taking measurements, he saw a sick, skinny boy in the mirror.

‘Okay, you can step off the scales and put your clothes on.’ Andrew buzzed with energy. He was always skipping, punching shadows, playing pretend drums or hip-hop dancing. He was shorter than Ted but was a boulder of compact muscle.

Ted got dressed then followed Andrew to his office. Andrew stopped on the way to throw a combination against a heavy bag.

Once inside, they sat at the desk. Andrew started typing and talking at the same time. ‘Teddy, I’m so pumped for this.’

‘Been a long time coming,’ said Ted. But he felt flat. For years he had wanted to move up weight divisions, not down, but now that he was finally taking the plunge, the magnitude of the assignment daunted him.

‘How’s your old man, by the way?’ asked Andrew. ‘I mean your old-old man. Sorry. Pop. How is he?’

‘He got home yesterday. He’ll be okay if he takes it easy.’

Andrew folded his arms as if trying to stop himself fidgeting. ‘Have you told him you’re training with me?’

Can’t we just get to training? ‘Not yet.’

Andrew nodded. ‘I’m happy for him to help with the boxing stuff. We balanced each other well last time, but now you need more time with me than with him.’

Andrew was the best in the strength and conditioning business, and he knew boxing, but he wasn’t a boxing coach. Ted knew this but was content to prioritise his physical transformation. Plus, he couldn’t imagine working with another boxing coach.

‘I think we need a break from each other.’ I wonder if Pop feels that way.

Andrew had recognised years ago that persevering at middle­weight wasn’t sustainable for Ted. Pop hadn’t liked Andrew after that.

‘Well, we ain’t going to be doing much boxing for a while, Teddy, my boy.’ Andrew turned his computer monitor around so they could both see it, and a seriousness came over him. ‘Before we get started, I want to make sure we’re on the same page. I’m not here to teach you how to box. I’m here to get you in the best possible physical shape for boxing. You remember those scales out there?’ He pointed to the door. ‘That’s the last time you step on a set of scales until weigh-in, okay? We aren’t here to chase some magical number. Power and speed win boxing matches. But I hate to tell you, all things being equal, a big fast and powerful guy is going to beat a smaller fast and powerful guy.’ He tapped the monitor. ‘Let me talk you through the plan.’

Andrew started explaining the training regime he had put together. Ted nodded and feigned interest, but his mind was elsewhere, juggling questions like Is this a good idea? What is Kelton’s endgame? What if I come up against Ron? All questions and no answers.

Andrew sensed Ted’s disconnection. ‘Look, Ted, I know you’ve got a lot going on. I need to know if your head is in this. I wear the responsibility for your safety. So, in that respect I need to point out to you the obvious but important. Heavyweights hit differently. You can’t wear shots like you’re used to. If you do, it’s lights out. There’s nothing I can do to strengthen your chin or harden that thick skull of yours. That’s why I’m not chasing a weight. We can’t sacrifice too much speed for the sake of carrying pointless pounds.’

That resonated with Ted. If he was going to succeed it would be because of his fighting ability. He nodded. ‘Good.’

‘Everything okay at home?’

Ted raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean?’

‘There was a Daily Mail article about you and Mel. Said you split up and she wasn’t your promoter anymore.’

Ted sighed. ‘Sounds like she’s promoting herself. Well, the Daily Mail knows more than I do. Anyway, that’s a problem for later.’

Andrew’s smile gave him the look of a madman. ‘Good. Let’s go lift some weights.’

Ted struggled to get out of bed the next morning. His legs, particularly the hamstrings and glutes, ached in ways he had long forgotten but strangely missed. Ted’s core, flexibility and raw strength and power had always impressed Andrew, who promised Ted he was going to put him through a world of hurt to transform his body. It would start with the lower body.

Pop had spent ten years teaching Ted how a punch required every bone and muscle in the body working in harmony to be effective, and that power was generated from the lower body. He would say it was technique, not strength or power, that won fights. Ted knew it to be true, but he’d had enough of technique. Enough of long hours in the gym delivering the same punches and combinations thousands of times on end until Pop was satisfied.

He owed so much to Pop. He recognised the genius and how much of his own success, and his father’s, existed because of Pop’s training. Ted now had to take what he had taught him and use it against a different type of opponent.

The training session had been by Andrew’s standards ‘light’. The last thing they needed was an injury brought on by going too hard too early. Given the pain Ted was in, he was thankful for that wisdom.

He enjoyed his breakfast of oats, fruit, yogurt and a protein shake more than he’d enjoyed a meal in a long while. Andrew promised him that soon the novelty of his new diet would fade, and had planned each meal to the nearest calorie and gram of protein needed.

Ted remembered his eighth birthday at the dine-in Pizza Hut. All-you-can-eat pizza and ice cream. Cheering on Jodie as she took her first-ever bite of pizza. She ate so much that it was a long time before she was willing to try it again. Mum was always strict about what they ate. Pizza Hut was for special occasions.

There was something about eating out that removed them from the tension of life at home. Jodie and Ted laughed while counting the slices of pizza their father consumed. Ron’s hunger was more than satisfied, but he pushed through fifteen just to be the hero a father is supposed to be to his kids.

Although alone, Ted could feel that old tension now. It was never far from him. Like gravity pulling everything into his chest, holding him and slowing him down.

His phone rang and he answered quickly. ‘Hello.’

‘Hi Ted, it’s Talia. Nurse Talia,’ she said, fumbling her name slightly. ‘I wanted to let you know that we found your grandfather’s medication in the rubbish bin here.’

Here we go again.

Ted limped down the hospital hallway.

Talia came out of one of the rooms along the hallway and studied Ted as he approached. ‘What happened to you?’

‘Had a tough gym session yesterday,’ said Ted, now conscious of his limp.

‘I heard them talking about you on the news.’

Ted stood and waited for her to finish before realising she hadn’t anything else to say. ‘Hence the tough gym session,’ he said jokingly, trying to relieve her of a little embarrassment.

Growing up as a good-looking kid who could beat everybody up, Ted was accustomed to female attention, often oblivious to it.

She brushed her fringe aside, something Ted noticed she did when she was nervous. ‘So, your migraine didn’t come back?’

‘Yeah, you fixed me up good. Thanks for that.’

‘Better job than I did on your ribs, right?’

Her smile aroused something in Ted that he hadn’t felt for a long time. He had loved Mel, but the affection in their volatile relationship had dwindled and they had become something that just was, and that they wouldn’t know what to do without. ‘You could say that.’

There was another brief pause. Then, as though the reason for Ted’s visit had suddenly dawned on her, Talia said, ‘I’ll go get the medication.’

She returned shortly after and handed Ted a small bag with the pills and instructions. ‘Make sure he takes them every day. Should I call you when we need to organise the next check-up?’

‘Call Pop, but if he doesn’t answer let me know. He doesn’t like being told what to do.’

‘Oh, okay.’ Talia was blushing.

‘But you can call me … if you want.’ Now it was Ted bumbling his words.

She smiled sheepishly and brushed her brown fringe to the side again. ‘Oh, okay.’

Ted took a breath before knocking on Pop’s door. Usually he would let himself in. I should probably go easy on him.

Pop opened the door and exhaled a breath of his own when he saw Ted and the medicine bag in his hand.

Ted held up the bag. ‘I think you misplaced these.’

Pop sighed and looked away. ‘They don’t work. Keep me up all night.’

Ted couldn’t help himself and let his built-up frustration and anger get the better of him. ‘You’ve got plenty to keep you up at night. You sure it’s the pills?’ More spite crept into his voice than was warranted.

Pop’s grey eyebrows rose, and his sunken expression indicated that Ted’s words stung. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Ted tried to tone it down but knew the damage was done. ‘Sonny Ferrari paid me a visit. Your debt is coming out of my next pay.’ He was relieved to get it off his chest. ‘Will you let me in?’

Pop stepped aside, allowing Ted to pass. ‘I’m sorry Ted … it wasn’t the drink this time. I’ll admit I’ve been close.’ His shoulders slouched and he lacked his usual energy.

Ted paused. It was unlike Pop to make any sort of admission when it came to his vices. He only had one way of dealing with them and that was to deny they existed. Ted had tried to get him to see someone for help, but the old man was stubborn. At least he was stubborn enough to go cold turkey.

Ted entered the dimly lit house and made a mental note that a light globe needed to be replaced. ‘I saw the bottle on the dresser.’

Pop slowly closed the door behind him. The old hinges groaned. ‘Oh, that was you who cleaned up the fridge and stocked it?’

Ted walked to the kitchen bench and placed the medicine down with a thud. Calm down. ‘Who else would it be?’

‘I thought it may have been Jodie. Or maybe Ron.’

Ted rested both hands on the bench and slumped his bodyweight onto them. ‘Jodie’s on the other side of the country, and do you really think Ron would come over just to clean up this mess and buy you some milk?’

Pop eased himself down onto a stool. ‘Jodie said she was going to come visit as soon as she can.’

‘Haven’t they made it impossible to get in and out of Perth?’

‘She’s applied for a travel exemption to take care of me. Soon as they let her on a plane, she’ll be here.’ Rubbing his tired eyes, he looked like an old man for a change. ‘I thought you’d win, Ted. You looked so good leading up to the fight. You were hitting the pads so damned hard I was putting my arms on ice. I’ve never felt that power from a middleweight. I just … I thought it was a sure thing … famous last words, I know.’

Ted stood upright. I thought I’d win too, until the weigh-in. ‘Don’t even get me started on the amount, you’re betting more than this dump’s worth.’

Pop’s eyes rose to lock with Ted’s. ‘This dump’s done me just fine. And you, might I add.’

There was a necessary pause before Ted brought the conver­sation back to the heart of the matter. ‘Pop, can you keep one promise and just take the medicine this time? It’s a new one.’

‘They’re all the same. They make the dreams not feel like dreams.’ He looked away with a blank, haunted expression. ‘More like the memories.’

It was easy to forget what Pop had been through. ‘You been having those dreams again?’

Pop’s eyes flicked back to the bench, as if ashamed. ‘The only time I don’t have them is when I drink. So, yes. And the pills make it worse.’

Ted surrendered the fight for now. In the current state of play he was better off leaving this for Jodie to try her more diplomatic tactics. He hoped she would come to visit. It had been too long since he’d seen her. It dawned on him how much he missed her. He didn’t know how to talk to Pop about his dreams of Vietnam and those dark years that left deep wounds that would never heal. Jodie could break through barriers that Ted couldn’t.

‘How’s Mel?’ asked Pop.

Ted was relieved for a change in subject, but not happy about Pop’s choice. ‘We’re on a break,’ he said dismissively.

‘Ha! What’s new there?’

‘I think it could be for good this time.’ Ted was taken aback by how easily those words spilled from his mouth. So much had happened in the last week that he hadn’t stopped to think about her. He realised he no longer felt anything.

Pop sensed the gravity of Ted’s words and matched it with his reply. ‘Us Taylors don’t have a good track record when it comes to childhood sweethearts.’

Ted didn’t want the conversation to go down this road but couldn’t steer it elsewhere.

Pop cleared his throat. ‘In days gone by, they used to take “for better or worse” more literally. The worse was usually a war. By the time Vietnam came and went, I counted myself one of the lucky ones. My Dear John letter never came, and Jodie, your grandmother, was still here when I got back. I remember to this day knocking on that same door you just knocked on. She answered, and boy did she hug me so tight I thought she’d never let me go. I thought that since she’d waited for me, I’d have her forever. For us, the worse wasn’t the war but what I brought home from it.’

He didn’t need to finish that story. Ted knew his grandmother had packed up one night Pop had drunk himself into a near coma. She’d taken the car and hadn’t been seen or heard from since. There was an eerie familiarity about it.

Pop continued, ‘I remember when Ron first started walking your mother home from school. I remember it because it made me smile for what must have been the first time in years. I’d sit out on the deck and just enjoy watching them walk.’

Ted sighed. ‘My memories of Mum and Dad aren’t so sweet.’

Pop’s eyes tightened as hard as they could for a moment, and then he relaxed again. ‘I don’t know what I’m trying to say … but maybe moving on from Mel is for the better.’

‘Better than her leaving and driving herself into a tree,’ said Ted under his breath.

Pop exploded. ‘Dammit, Teddy!’ The stool crashed to the floor. ‘Get out of my house if you’re gonna talk about your mother that way!’ He closed the distance between them with unnatural speed for a man his age.

Ted waved a hand as if to say Forget about it. ‘Just take your medicine.’

A fist snapped into Ted’s nose and the other grabbed him by the collar. It was a short, sharp jab that struck like a viper and retracted in the same manner. Ted almost instinctively hit back with a right hook, but let his fist fall to the side as hot blood pulsed from his nose. Tears pooled in his eyes, but he saw tears in the pink, bloodshot eyes of his grandfather as well. Both quivering hands now clutched at his shirt and Pop pulled him in like he was in a defensive fighting stance.

Ted choked on his hurt, then leaned his head forward so his forehead pressed against Pop’s. He had to fight his own hands from quivering as Pop’s head fell against his shoulder. Ted pulled the old man in, hugging him like a child, the way he used to hug the baby sister he didn’t know how to console. The way his dad had held him the night his mother died. Ted didn’t know why he’d been so hard on Pop, who didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of his anger. He had seen Pop throw thousands of punches, always in demonstration; not once had he ever thrown one with intent.

He waited for Pop to let it out, hoping that this was good for him and not the start of a renewed period of depression. Dammit. This is the last thing he needs right now. Once he stopped crying, Ted stepped back and released him from the embrace. His nose hurt, but at least the bleeding had stopped. ‘I’m sorry, Pop.’

‘I’ve chosen to believe that she didn’t drive into that tree on purpose,’ Pop said softly. ‘I’m sorry, Teddy. I’ll take the medicine.’

I wish I could make that choice. Ted swallowed a mouthful of guilt. ‘I’ll check on you tomorrow,’ he said as he walked out the door.