The fights have taken a toll on my hands. They were always getting broken. Now, instead of taking a while to beat a guy, I try to get it over as fast as I can. Before, I would just go straight at them, but now I leave them come towards me when possible. This way I can strike using their bodyweight against them. I also use my elbows more when I’m in close. I never bite a man until he does it to me. When this happens, I just don’t stop and have torn loads of flesh off fighters. If it’s a nose or an ear, if I get a grip on it then off the bugger comes.
I fought another judo guy who thought he was clever biting me. We were grappling each other and both using different armlocks and holds on one another. We were both rolling around on the top floor of a multi-storey car park and he managed to dislocate my arm. I actually heard the arm pop out of the shoulder when he did it. After a while he tries to bite my ear off but I tear it away in time. He just tore the tip off. He was clamped tightly around me so I just kept beating his head on the concrete until I broke free. With that I bite off his whole ear and part of his nose. I just tore them off and spat them out. I just kept biting and punching until he passed out, then the fight was won. Like I always say, if that’s the game they want to play then I will play it, but I can be a lot dirtier than them.
Over the years I have had so many bones broken that I have lost count. I’ve been stabbed, slashed, bottled and jumped by gangs. I never go to the hospital unless it’s my hands because I need to look after them. I was Stanley-knifed across the forehead once by some prick who looked like a regular clubber. You know, I didn’t even see that one coming. Even though he did that, I still went on to smash him up. A friend has even Superglued my head when I got bottled. The cut just wouldn’t close so he had to glue it for me. He was actually being sick while he did it. It turned septic and I developed blood poisoning after it. These days I keep my back to the wall when I go out so that I can see who comes at me.
I have done some things that I’m not proud of, but I do believe that if I hadn’t sorted the bullies out then it could be some poor little kid getting battered by them instead. The so-called hard men who have come after me just don’t care who they beat up to get their name.
These days, when I walk into a club the owners just call the Old Bill to get me out. Now the big steroid-heads can throw the 16-year-old kids around and I’m not around to stop them. A few guys I’ve hit have ended up in comas. Now, I’m not happy with that, especially as one didn’t come out of his right in the head. He still can’t walk or talk tidy. It hurts me to think about sometimes. I wouldn’t wish something like that on them, but they wouldn’t care if I was wired up to a heart monitor or lying battered in some alleyway. I’ve never been punched down or knocked out. I’ve been grappled to the floor, even held above one fighter’s head and brought crashing down onto the pavement, but even then I didn’t go out.
I know that if I carry on this way it’s only a matter of time before something more serious happens to me, so I’ve decided to change my whole life around. I’ve made a few contacts in the unlicensed boxing game and feel that’s the best way for me to get this all out of my system. I’ve started to train hard again and I’m once again travelling to different gyms. There’s a Merthyr gym called the Slaughterhouse; it’s a rough old gym and they have offered me their facilities. Trainers have agreed to train me and the phone rings all the time with guys who want to come to the gym with me.
I get asked if I’m ever scared stepping into a ring or an alleyway with an opponent. Well, as a kid I came home to see my mother cutting her arms open with a razor blade, so anything else I face in life don’t seem so bad.
SHAWN COOPER
Kingswinford, West Midlands
Shawn has given many cause to remember his name. To have him at your side in any confrontation would have more than an equalising effect, whatever the odds. A tactical fighter who has taken boxing onto the streets and has combined finesse with brutality in awesome measure.
I WAS BORN in 1968 and spent my childhood living on the Priory Estate in Dudley in the West Midlands. My mother brought me and my two sisters up by herself – my father had left us when I was about one year old. The fact that I didn’t have a father around didn’t bother me; where I lived everyone near us was like part of the family. One of those places where you could leave your door open knowing the neighbours would watch your house when you were out. It was a rough area in those days but nobody would steal off their own kind, it was sort of like steal off the rich and bring it home.
I was a cheeky little fucker as a kid, always getting into trouble on the estate. A gym opened up nearby and a friend took me there. I can remember how it felt the first day I walked in there, the atmosphere was electric with all the kids training, and the smell of the leather and the sweat hit me as soon as I walked in. They put these big sparring gloves on me, they were huge and full of horse hair. I did about ten rounds of sparring and thought it was great. I was only a youngster at the time so the whole buzz of the gym had this dramatic effect on me.
I was getting into more trouble on the estate as I was growing up. The kids in the different areas were forming various gangs, from skinheads to Mods. Whatever area we would pass through, there would be a different gang. Of the group of lads I went around with, I was the smallest one, so I felt I had to prove myself a little bit more. I remember once myself and my good mate Lenny Hawthorn needed to earn some extra money so we had the idea of getting scrap metal to sell to the scrapyard. We noticed that all the houses in our area had this copper overflow pipe coming out of the houses from the kitchen sinks. We had this great idea to cut off all the pipes at night and weigh them in. The whole plan went well; only being kids, we didn’t realise that people would notice that our houses were the only ones which still had an overflow pipe. So we got caught for that one. I know that wasn’t a really serious thing to do but it was only a matter of time before I got involved in other things.
I think I was lucky that a mate took me back to the gym, where I was eventually told that I had talent and should stick to it. Within twelve months I was fighting in the ABA Schoolboy Championships and was travelling all over the country. There were many times when I would fight two or three times a night. I didn’t really find that as hard as it seems because I was winning and was always hungry for the next fight. I couldn’t wait for the next opponent and then the next one after that, I just wanted to get in the ring and fight. I had 96 amateur fights and only lost nine. I also boxed for England and fought over the world. I was twice on Henry Cooper’s Golden Belt which was shown on Channel Four.
I lost interest in the amateurs when I lost to Robert McCracken [future British Light-middleweight Champion] in the ABA Championships. I had fought three times that night before I fought him; it was his first fight of the night but I still felt I had beaten him and deserved to win. I then decided it was time to turn professional. I fought for promoters like Barry Hearn and Pat Cowdell and I jumped from one promoter to the next, because they were always offering better deals. I was being trained by the likes of Dean Powell, who at one time was voted the best trainer in England. I had 18 professional fights and won them all. After my 18th fight, I was training for fights that would get cancelled the day before. I’d then train for a few months and the next fight would be off as well. I had phone bills and everything to pay, so of course I wasn’t happy with that. What also didn’t help was the fact that I was working full-time to make ends meet as well as being a pro boxer. I would get up at four in the morning, run to West Brom then back to Dudley. There was a block of flats which had nine floors and I’d run up and down them five times. I’d get home, wash, change and clock-in for work by half past seven.
I worked as an upholsterer and had to make about 30 suites a day. From Monday to Friday I was training at half past four, so as you can see I was putting my body through too much. If I hadn’t had to work as well, then I strongly believe that I could have been an even better fighter. I had done so well as an amateur that I felt there
was a lot of pressure for me to do even better as a pro. I could cope with the pressure but having to work as well wore me down a bit. I just upped and packed the professional game in.
I started working the club doors and found at once how much hassle it could be. Some guys would think that if they beat me, being a boxer, they would then gain other people’s respect. I would always speak tidy to them and let them keep arguing with me, I wouldn’t lose my rag, so they would get more confident. I’d wait until everyone could see what was happening and then I’d let them have it. That way people knew that I was a nice guy who when pushed could do the business.
There was this local guy who had just come out of prison for killing his wife by shooting her in the head with a shotgun, then he turned on his wife’s lover and blew the guy’s foot off. He had just done a 15-year stretch for this and was only out for five weeks when he has a go at me. I had just driven my van down the street and was passing the kids out to go to their grandmother’s. He pulls up behind my van and jumps out. As he comes towards me, I can see in his eyes that there’s something wrong. He’s a schizophrenic and has this mad look on his face, he just wants to have a go at me, for some reason. I put him straight down on his arse and make the mistake of turning my back on him. He gets hold of his baseball bat and puts it over the back of my head, splitting me right open and scarring me for life. All I could see for a while out of the one eye was a white light. I thought he had knocked my eye out and was lucky that I hadn’t been knocked down to the ground. I turned on him and put some time into him. I shattered his jaw in four places and punctured his lung.
Once, a few of us were doing security on this club in the country when this large gang of rugby players turns up. They start to take the piss in the club and want to have a go at one of the other doormen. He was a black guy and he was taking some serious racial abuse off them. We try to calm the situation down a bit but they were having none of it. In the end we had to confront them outside. There were four of us and about 15 of these big rugby lads. It all turned into a big free-for-all fight. It was a good job that we were all game lads or we could have been in some serious trouble. I remember one of the rugby guys ripping this big wooden post out of the ground and, as my mate came running in, he takes it full belt over his head. In the end we get the better of them all. It was a bit stupid of them really. I myself am not racist one bit and can’t see the point of it.
Some of the clubs that I got called to work at had loads of trouble in them. Along with Lenny we got known as guys who could sort out the troublemakers. Lenny’s always been by my side since we were kids. I know I can rely on him, he’s my right hand man, just like a brother to me. We got a call to take on this one club which was having some terrible trouble from some travellers, one big family in particular. This was a hard job for us to take on. We knew if we didn’t then we would lose respect from other clubs, and also the punters. Over a period of just a few weeks we had sorted the club out. We were getting into fights on the door and knocking them out, having one-to-ones in the car park and beating them all along the way. Now these travellers were game for a fight, they had so much front and really wanted to have a go. It got to a point where they would want to have another go when we were in town with our families, sometimes pointing shooters at us. We had to sit down and work out some kind of game plan. We decided to take the trouble to the campsite, confront them at their own homes. Make them feel intimidated and vulnerable. The threats they were putting out, to burn our houses down and to burn the club down, made us take a stand and if it went all the way then so be it.
We fill up four Range Rovers with some very handy guys and we all drive down to the campsite. Now Lenny loves dogs and on the way he brakes hard because there’s this little dog in the road. The other drivers all brake and swerve to avoid a crash. Lenny nearly killed us all before we even got to the camp. We got to the camp and confronted the troublemakers. After a few of them got weighed in, they pulled a gun on us. They said they were going to kill us but what they didn’t know was that one of the guys with us was a proper hit man. Our guy pulled his gun out and put it in the traveller’s face; he puts the barrel in the guy’s mouth and pushes him down onto the floor. This guy was well prepared to kill the traveller. It was a strange feeling to find out that one of your mates was willing to do something like that just for us. One of the other lads with us kept shouting, “Go on, pull the trigger, blow him away, go on do it.” I really felt he was going to do it.
When all this was going on, the police had turned up, and when they saw what was happening they just froze and didn’t interfere. More police turn up so we decide to make off. We all just disperse. Most of the police follow Lenny, who now starts to throw tools out the window as they chase him. They block off the road, so Lenny eventually pulls over. The police search the car. They find a sack in the car full of machetes, butterfly knives, divers’ knives and other weapons. Lenny gets locked up and to get out he explains that when it all came on top with the gypsies he decided to make a run for it. The gypsies saw the police and must have dumped the weapons in the car. The reason he didn’t stop for the police was because he was so terrified. This worked and they released Lenny.
Three days later, the police came for me and pulled me in. I denied being there and started talking rubbish about my dog and all the fights I had as a boxer. They thought I was off my head and let me out. All the time this was going on, the travellers were telling everyone how they had done us over. They told other gypsy families that they had put us in hospital. When we came back to the club people knew they had been lying, and we became known as guys who could get the job done.
We started to get more clubs to run due to the trouble we were sorting in other clubs. Sometimes I would be working the door, other times I would be like undercover, in clubber’s clothes, dancing and walking around the club. I would be on the lookout for the dealers or the guys who were up for trouble. This one night a big lad was out to cause trouble with his mates. They were messing around with the girls in the club, who didn’t like it. I have a word with him and later he and his mates start trouble. The other security guys sort his entourage out and leave him for me. Off comes his shirt and he’s got this big boxing glove tattooed on his chest. We must have fought for 20 minutes solid. Every time I hit him down he got back up and came back for more. I got more of a buzz from this than anything else. Most guys I fought just lasted one, maybe two punches but he was up for the fight, big time. He was in a terrible mess, covered in blood and all. It was a cold night and every time he was knocked out one of the lads would turn the hosepipe on him. This would wake him up for me to give it to him again. Eventually we threw him out through the main gates up the club. I went back to my car drenched in blood, thinking I had been cut, but it was all his blood, not mine.
Rave parties were big back then and we were security for some of the biggest raves. They became so popular that punters from all the cities were coming to them, but of course so were all the major crews. This one night we got told that this major firm was coming to take over. They had been around the other raves, taxing the door, taking all the money and that. I was on the main entrance and was on edge all night waiting for them to turn up. Just when I thought they weren’t coming, this car drives up and these four big skinhead-type geezers get out. They had come for our gate but I had to stand my ground. The biggest one confronts me first. He has this large torch with him and smashes me with it. I counter with a hook that breaks his jaw, the full weight of him coming forward and my hook does the trick. I completely wreck his face, putting him in a really bad way with his head swelling up from the hiding. The lads all come out and we do them all over and smash up their car as well. I know I went overboard with him but these were very dangerous people and they wouldn’t have thought twice about doing me in. Years later, I met up with the big guy who I first hit and we shared a few drinks together and laughed it all off.
This one lad was a known knifeman who had cut loads up and wouldn’
t worry about knifing you. He had taxed a lot of people over the years and had taken over loads of nightclub doors. I think he was a bit jealous of our success and wanted our doors. He came down to confront us but of course he had his blade with him. He was talking to Lenny and didn’t notice me sitting on this Harley Davison wearing sunglasses. He was the type of guy that if you fought him you would have to take it all the way. He’s the kind of guy who would turn up at your house armed. This time he had picked the wrong time and place to try his luck. Lenny was arguing with him and hit him, now Lenny wobbled him but thought this was not the right place to end it. Lenny turns to walk away and the guy starts to pull his blade out. I just didn’t have time to think about it, had to put him away as fast as I could, which I did. For about two weeks he was out looking for me with a shooter but that died down. He sort of changed after that fight, he don’t bully no more and seems a changed man. In situations like that, you have to use everything from boxing to streetfighting and explode fast and hard.
I can only ever remember losing one streetfight and that was when I was a young kid. I still see the guy these days and we laugh about it, I don’t bear grudges at all. It’s bullies that get to me: if I see someone trying it on with a smaller guy then I’ll make it my business to confront them. Over the years I’ve found that kids respect me and listen to what I have to say; this comes with training with them in the gyms all these years. I love children and I feel I can help youngsters, maybe guide them in some way. I’ve started working with the social services and I’m going on a course to help kids who are in the homes, with no parents to look after them. I want to be an independent visitor and feel the life I have led has given me the experience to help kids. I’d rather kids didn’t follow some of the mistakes I have made and if I can guide them, maybe give them the confidence they need, then there’s hope for them in this dog-eat-dog world.
Streetfighters: Real Fighting Men Tell Their Stories Page 20
