23.

Taylor vs Taylor

August 2021 – Pop’s gym

Ted raised his hands to touch Ron’s gloves.

‘Remember, Teddy,’ said Pop, standing on the edge of the ring, leaning on the ropes from the outside, ‘I want you to fight like Reggie. But let’s take it easy.’

Pop’s gym was closed on Sunday afternoons, so they had the entire facility to themselves. The emptiness was eerie. Every sound – the squeaking of springs beneath the ring, the shuffling of feet across its surface – was exaggerated in the quiet.

Ted, eager to scratch the boxing itch, was raring to go. It had been over four months since his fight with Reggie and he had barely laced on a glove in that time. After nearly two months recovering, he’d been determined to get back into shape and had been training intensely despite having no intention to box. Nerves fluttered and he struggled to settle into the appropriate frame of mind and emulate his most recent opponent. As Pop feared, it turned into a fight.

The moment they touched gloves a mutual understanding came over them. A single question had been eating away at both father and son and lingering like a bad smell – if they had come up against each other, how would things have panned out?

They didn’t go at it with maximum intensity or anger. The helmets worked as a reminder of the environment, and that Ted wasn’t supposed to be boxing. Ted was surprised Pop hadn’t protested – but perhaps he understood that the unspoken tension in the air needed an opportunity to snap.

The fast pace suited Ted. The softer-than-usual punches provided leeway for him to take risks, and he got the better of most exchanges. After three minutes, the automated bell rang. Ted stepped back to take a much-needed break from the furiously paced opening round.

Ron looked around the gym while sucking in deep breaths. ‘Where’d he go?’ His voice was muffled by his mouthguard.

Ted stood upright and rested his gloves against his hips. Pop was nowhere to be seen. His mind wandered, then raced. He ran to look over the ropes at the floor below where Pop had been standing, expecting to find him sprawled on the floor suffering a stroke. He sighed in relief. Pop wasn’t there.

‘Guess he’s taking a break,’ said Ron.

They both knew what that meant. Pop knew that sometimes boys had to be boys. The bell rang to start the next round. They touched gloves and settled into the roped-off world, the only one they truly understood. The three ropes reduced them to their boyhood instincts, and like two young brothers they forgot all else except that they were fighting. There were scores that perhaps needed settling, but these were outside the ropes along with everything else that had been said and done.

The rounds blurred together as they rolled on. Ted threw punches fast and furiously, as he had when fighting as a middle­weight. At first, he was shocked by Ron’s ability to keep up. His feet and torso were slow compared to Ted’s, but Ron moved his hands and head with unnerving and fearless precision.

Ted dictated the speed but Ron controlled the movement around the ring. Perpetual motion was Ron’s greatest strength, edging forward when he had momentum. Ted struggled to take lead of the dance and was forced to take risks.

Following one of those risks, Ted walked into a trap after Ron feigned a punch and Ted moved to counter. He was exposed and Ron landed a soft punch against the side of his helmet and stopped. Ted conceded and took a few seconds to create some distance between them before they went back to business.

‘Wanna pack it in?’ asked Ron.

Ted shook his head and raised his gloves.

More rounds went by. Ted thought they must have been up to ten or eleven and was still waiting for fatigue to tip the scales in his favour. The timer was on repeat, so the rounds would go on until the two of them chose to stop. So far, Ron had landed three punches that would have ended Ted’s night had they been on show, but his pride was hardly bruised. Those punches were off the back of the risks Ted had taken, several of which had paid off and seen him assume dominance for periods.

After a few more rounds, the dynamic changed. Ron’s feet were moving less as he planted himself in the middle of the ring, daring Ted in. Ted’s legs were turning to jelly. The lactic acid pooling in his muscles ate away at his speed, but he pushed on.

The pace was now well and truly heavyweight.

Back when Round One started, almost an hour ago, the natural light through the windows was sufficient. Now the setting sun was losing strength. The poor light provided a new challenge. Heaving and hulking, Ron pressed forward, forcing Ted into the ropes after spending most of the bout in centre ring.

As the growing darkness threatened to defeat them both, a silent, telepathic agreement was struck. This would be the final round; they couldn’t go on forever. They weren’t fighting to win, but each wondered how much the other had in the tank.

Ted felt as if his gloves dripped with heavy wet cement. Every punch was a burning strain. Using the ropes, he propelled into Ron. Their sweaty bodies collided. To clinch in this contest would be the coward’s way out; instead he unleashed a flurry of inside punches. Short hooks and uppercuts. Ron returned in kind.

The bell rang, but neither stopped. Punches rolled as if they were on a speed bag. Thud, thud, thud, like an old steam-train on rickety wooden tracks.

The punches had become soft and sapped of strength. The old train was rolling into the station and the beat slowed. Ted loaded an uppercut, unsure if he had the strength to follow through, but Ron stumbled forward into him and pulled him in tight.

‘Ding, ding, ding!’ Ron gasped.

Relief washed over Ted as they held each other upright in the fading light. Ted lowered his head into Ron’s sweat-slicked shoulder. With his strength sapped it was easy to let go. ‘I forgive you, Dad,’ he uttered in a single heavy breath.

Ron didn’t say anything. Ted wondered if he had said it loud enough. Had he even said it at all? He moved back but kept his gloves on Ron’s shoulders.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Ron.

Ted felt as though a vacuum had been opened on a lifetime of fear and hate. The euphoria of the moment and the exhaustion as it fled left him dizzy and empty. All his life his father had been a hard, imposing, often terrifying figure. Once again, if Ted stepped back, Ron might have toppled. This time, however, Ted was content to hold him up. Ron had apologised before, but Ted hadn’t been ready to accept it. It was easier to resent him than contemplate forgiveness. Had Ted finally broken that granite surface and found a way through the fortress they had built between them? The one Ted had defended all his life?

Ron went the distance against Reggie. Even with the ‘three wise men’ judging, there would have been a riot had they taken it away from him, given how convincing his victory was, despite being unable to secure a knockout.

Ted watched from the corner with a gut-wrenching mix of jealousy, pride and humble pie. It dawned on him that it took the fight of his life to overcome Harrison, while Ron was a class above.

Ron grimaced in pain as the referee raised his hand in victory, and the crowd cheered for him as they had decades ago when he’d first won their hearts. Ted had forgiven him; it seemed everyone else had as well.

Talia was in bed reading when Ted arrived home after midnight. His body language must have alerted her to his sombre state as she scrunched her face and gave him a smile.

‘Bittersweet?’ she asked.

That summed it up perfectly. Ted collapsed onto the bed and rolled over next to her.

‘I’m happy for him. I really am,’ he said quietly. He didn’t want to say what came next, but he needed to. ‘It would’ve been nice if I got my shot.’

She closed her book and stroked his head. ‘You don’t hate me, do you?’

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

‘Yeah, right,’ he said playfully. ‘You wouldn’t even wipe my ass.’

‘It’s tough love.’

Talia stroked his hair until he eventually drifted off.

Next morning, Ted drove Talia to work. As they pulled up to the hospital, Ron was crossing the road and heading towards the entrance.

‘What’s he doing here?’ asked Talia.

Ted recalled Ron wincing as the referee raised his arm. ‘I’ll park the car and come up. I guess he’s seeing Dr Koski.’

‘Okay.’ She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Might see you up there.’

Ted parked and made his way up to Dr Koski’s floor. He walked down the hallway, pressed his ear against the office door and heard Ron inside.

He opened the door and poked his head in. ‘Knock, knock.’

Dr Koski was standing by the window holding an MRI scan.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Ted.

Ron was slumped back in a chair. ‘My shoulder’s busted.’

It made sense. Ted had been wondering why Ron hadn’t been able to finish Reggie off.

‘Yep,’ said Dr Koski. ‘You may as well hear this too, Ted. It’s the rotator cuff again, same as Ron did a while back.’

Ron sighed. ‘That’s not good.’

The door was ajar and now Pop appeared. ‘Not good?’ he asked as he entered. ‘Sorry I’m late. Hello, Ted.’

‘No, not good,’ confirmed the doctor. ‘When’s the next fight?’

‘Five months,’ said Ron.

Dr Koski shook his head. ‘This needs surgery. Even if we did it today, there’s no way you’d be fit in time. You won’t be able to do anything for a month, let alone throw a punch. At best you’d be going in at seventy per cent.’

‘What if I don’t get the surgery?’ asked Ron. ‘Just painkiller me up.’

Pop took hold of the scans and inspected them in the light. ‘Can’t we push it back a few months?’

‘No chance,’ said Ted. ‘Kelton had to pull some big strings to get an event with spectators in America. He won’t give a shit if you have one arm.’

Dr Koski sat down on the edge of his desk and bounced his head as if thinking.

Talia poked her head in and made eye contact with Ted. Everything okay? she mouthed to him.

Ted motioned for her to close the door. She did, but not before slipping inside first and making her way next to him.

‘Ron, based on the fact that you’ve done this before,’ started Dr Koski, ‘and even though it was fairly innocuous this time, you definitely need the surgery.’ He shook his head. ‘Even then, with the period of inactivity and the slow recovery, by the time you get to a point where you can do some proper training, the fight will be too soon.’

‘You beat him last time and you were well underdone,’ said Pop as he put the scans down. ‘I guess we don’t have a choice but to get the surgery.’

There was a pause, and then Ron said, ‘Teddy could take my spot. Kelton could make that happen. He’d rather it be Ted anyway.’

Ted could feel his heart beating.

Ron scanned the room as he stood up. ‘Why not? He’s been training as hard as me as a sparring partner. He’s fit as a fiddle.’

No one spoke.

‘Well, what do you say?’ said Ron. ‘Leroy’s an overconfident southpaw.’ He turned towards Pop. ‘What do you think? Ted’s quick enough and slick enough to keep his front foot on the outside, and then it’s just …’ He threw two low left hooks. ‘Boom, boom.’ He stepped back and reset into defensive stance. ‘Leroy’s reach will work against him. That’s how I got him, and I’m slow as a mule. I got my head busted in figuring him out, but if you train Ted for it, drill it into him, he just has to do that for round after round and he won’t get a scratch on his head.’

Pop listened intently, his silence indicating that he agreed.

It was obvious everyone was waiting for Dr Koski’s objections. His arms were folded as he was leaned back against the desk. ‘We need to remember why Ted retired.’

Ron clenched his fists and shook them. ‘It’s just –’ He stopped himself. ‘Sorry.’

‘You could be in the corner, Doc, like you said last time,’ said Ted. No. Forget it.

Dr Koski sighed. The look in his eyes suggested that he regretted planting that seed in Ted’s mind.

Talia spoke up. ‘We need to stop this, right now. It’s a no.’ She turned to Ted. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

‘Let me show you something.’ Pop waved the doctor over. ‘Stand here, Shane.’ He then positioned Ted in front of him. ‘Put your hands up, both of you.’

Ted and Dr Koski stood awkwardly in the middle of the office like they were about to fight.

‘Shane’s probably the same height as Leroy. This is what we’re working with.’ Pop pointed to their feet. ‘Two right-handers in regular stance. Equal opportunity for both to strike – size and reach an obvious advantage. Now.’ He kicked Dr Koski’s leg softly. ‘Switch stance to southpaw – right foot forward and left back. Good. Now they’re mirroring each other. The key advantage for the southpaw is simple. They’re used to fighting regular stance fighters – statistically there’s just more of them. The regular, on the other hand, is less experienced fighting southpaws. But despite that, they stick to what they know, and suddenly they find themselves defending punches coming from angles they ain’t used to defending.’

Pop walked around to the other side and placed his hand on Dr Koski right side ribs. ‘This is a tall southpaw’s weakness, particu­larly against a faster opponent who’s low and close to the body – but it’s not easy to get to. His left side is there for Ted to hook, but as soon as he does, he’s walking into a right cross or a left hook.’

Pop stepped towards Ted and pulled him towards Dr Koski, and Ted stepped left. ‘You need to direct the fight this way, to your left – which isn’t what you’re used to. You need to stay on the outside of his lead foot and his jab.’

Ted dropped his hands and the act. ‘Why are we doing this? You can’t just sub me into a title fight.’

‘Don’t forget that Tony needs one of us in a ring. He needs it big time. And Kelton owes him for making something happen the last year or two. There’s been enough craziness that we could make it happen.’ Ron pointed to the door. ‘I think the one you had to convince just left.’

Ted turned around. Talia was gone. He walked out into the hallway, spotted her and chased her down. ‘Hey, they’re getting carried away.’

‘I’m working, Ted,’ she said, striding down the hallway and leaving him standing in her wake.

He didn’t go back into Dr Koski’s office and wanted to pack away all thoughts of getting back into the ring. He decided to take a drive to Pop’s house to see Jodie and the girls.

‘Hey,’ said Ted as he let himself in.

Jodie was in the kitchen and held a finger to her lips. ‘Keep it quiet. They just went down for a nap and God knows I need a break. Cuppa?’

‘Sure,’ said Ted.

Jodie made the tea. They took their mugs to the front veranda where they didn’t need to whisper. Ted leaned against the balcony and Jodie sat on the single chair where Pop would sometimes sit of an afternoon to watch the sun set.

As far as western Sydney views go, it wasn’t so bad. The Blue Mountains were a sight Ted mostly took for granted, but on the rare moments when he stopped to take them in, he felt an affectionate appreciation of their beauty. They were no Himalayas, but they were something.

‘So,’ said Jodie. ‘Don’t get much out of you at the best of times, but you’re awfully quiet right now.’

He sipped his tea. ‘Dad busted his shoulder.’

‘I thought he looked hurt.’

‘He’s supposed to be fighting for the title in five months.’

‘Are they going to screw him?’

‘They can’t postpone the fight. It’ll happen.’

‘How bad is his shoulder?’

‘He won’t be fighting.’

Jodie paused to make sense of it. ‘So, why do you care anyway? Do you even want to watch him become champion again?’

He couldn’t help but smile at Jodie’s confidence that Ron would win. ‘It’s more than that.’

‘Go on.’

He didn’t want to burden her, but it was heavy carrying the burden alone. ‘Pop’s still got debts to clear. This was meant to wipe the slate clean.’

‘Well, when Dad’s better he can fight whoever,’ she said defensively. ‘They want the money, they can wait.’

‘Everything’s about money to these guys.’ He turned around to face her, placing his hands on the railing. ‘Opportunities like this don’t come around every day.’

She put her mug down on the armrest. ‘Don’t tell me you’re thinking about taking his place!’

‘I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about it. But I won’t.’

‘Yes, you will,’ she muttered.

He didn’t want her to be right.

‘You don’t have to take his beating,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to be like him!’

A shiver ran down his spine. I don’t have to, but I am.

‘I’m sorry, Ted.’

‘What for?’

‘You were never the same after …’ She hesitated. ‘After that night.’

That night.

‘None of us were,’ she added.

‘Especially Mum,’ he said.

Her bottom lip quivered. ‘It’s not your fault. You were protecting us. Standing up to him.’

‘Becoming like him.’

Jodie walked towards him and leaned on the balcony beside him. ‘I always think of Mum when I see the mountains. Reminds me of that time Dad was in a rage and we drove away up to the Three Sisters.’

‘I forgot about that.’

‘Remember standing at the lookout?’

Ted saw the tears streaming down her cheeks and put his arm around her. She nuzzled her head into him. ‘She told us that to her they weren’t three sisters – they were the three of us.’

Jodie crumpled into Ted. He embraced her for the first time in years.

‘Why did she run away?’ she said.

‘Because she loved us,’ he told her, trying to sound confident. ‘You have your two little angels now. When you look at the Three Sisters, it’s you and the girls.’

‘I know there’s no stopping you, Ted,’ said Jodie. ‘Just please don’t get hurt.’

That night, Ted picked Talia up from the hospital. She got in and buckled up without saying hello.

‘How was it?’ he asked.

‘Uneventful, for a change. But long.’

‘Want to get something to eat?’ It was already ten, but knowing Talia hadn’t been getting time for a dinner break lately, he thought he’d ask.

‘I’m okay.’

He drove for a few minutes in silence. ‘They got carried away earlier.’

Talia stared out her window with her head rested against the seatbelt.

‘Are you sure you’re not hungry?’ asked Ted as they entered the house. He knew she wasn’t, but needed something to say.

‘Yes,’ she snapped.

Ted stopped in the hallway waiting for her to turn around. ‘I’m not going to do it.’

She turned and sighed. ‘Promise me two things.’ Her wide eyes pleaded. ‘This is the last fight you ever take. And you’ll throw in the towel if you need to.’

‘Talia, I’m not going to do it.’

‘You want to, though – right?’

He threw his hands up. ‘Of course I want to. A part of me, anyway. Is it going to eat away at me for the rest of my life? Yeah, probably.’ He lowered his hands. ‘But it’s not worth losing you.’

She lowered her gaze to the floor.

‘It’s the truth,’ Ted said. ‘I mean, if it wasn’t for you, I don’t think I’d have anything important enough to hold me back.’

She looked up and her cheeks were pale. ‘If you can make me those two promises – last fight, throw in the towel if you need to – then I promise I’ll wipe your ass no matter what.’

He looked at her with the same level of intensity as when he stared down opponents moments before they touched gloves. ‘I’m not taking the fight.’

‘You’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you to look back and regret it. And resent me. Your whole life has built to this.’ She grabbed his hands. ‘You showed that you could make a sacrifice for me, so I’ll make one for you. One more fight, then you can start something fresh.’

‘We can start something,’ he said as he embraced her. ‘I love you.’ He kissed her. ‘I promise you.’

She squeezed him tight. ‘I just want you to be careful.’

‘I think deep down you just want to wipe my ass.’

She slapped him playfully.