Rinty Monaghan, 1949

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Exactly two items of gear were needed to practice what the English genteelly called ‘pugilism’ – gloves stuffed with horsehair, and leather shoes with no lifts. Unlike in French savate, for example, Queensbury rules boxers were only allowed to exchange blows of the fist, aimed at the head and torso. Tonight, Terry Monaghan, nicknamed “Rinty”, was fighting his final bout in the flyweight category, in which challengers could not weigh more than 51 kg going into the ring. In London’s Harringay arena, the crowd were going wild. They roared their fighters’ names and sprang to their feet with every punch, gasping with furious excitement and howls of encouragement. They were blinded by the lights, and the stands shuddered and creaked under the weight of their movement. The boxing fans gathered were spellbound by Rinty Monaghan’s performance. He had become famous after the war, rising to the rank of undisputed world champion. For many in his hometown of Belfast, Northern Ireland, he was a hero. The bell rang, and Rinty returned to his corner.

Memories ran through his mind. Life had been good in Belfast when he’d started fighting, and learned to become a man. Back then he’d been a pupil at Saint Patrick’s Christian Brothers school, on Donegall Street. At the end of each school day he’d head straight for the boxing club and the punching bags, wearing himself to exhaustion against their dead weight. He pictured a hungry, towering opponent opposite him, and made himself believe he was punching the stranger. Then his first fights came. He’d fought three times a week at the King’s Hall in Belfast, always ready to draw the crowds. Young folk admired him, and the older generation respected him. Rinty Monaghan was an astute man who had wanted to make something of himself, even if that meant dismantling the opponents put before him. As Fascism swept across Europe and Belgium was defeated, he left the ring for two years in service of his country. Belfast had suffered heavy bombardments during WWII. Rinty Monaghan remembered them well, not knowing where to hide to avoid the bombs as the sirens roared and the first raids began. Once upon a time they had thought the city was beyond the range of German bombers, but then the Luftwaffe had killed a thousand people, and left tens of thousands homeless. Only London had known greater loss of human life from night raids during the Blitz. Rinty Monaghan thought now of all those souls. They had lost their lives to a populist cause, snuffed out in service of the will of a man convinced of his political destiny: Adolph Hitler. A few months later, during the spring, the Luftwaffe flew over Belfast twice more. Rinty Monaghan had not been content to wait below, and enlisted in the British Army to go and fight alongside the Americans on the European front. His spirit was noble, and his cause was brave. The bell rang.

Rinty rose to face his opponent, Terry Allen. This was Rinty’s sixty-ninth fight. Thoughts raced through this brain like lightning, with claps of thunder as they slashed against the sky. They were thoughts of all the opponents he had knocked out during his career. In all, he’d put two score men on the canvas. Thirty he’d won through the ref’s decision. Rinty dodged Terry Allen’s punches. He moved like a spider around the ring, lunging forward and darting back. Terry Allen was growing tired, Rinty’s offhand attitude frustrating him. Then Rinty threw a right hook and a left cross, then a right. Was it enough for the win? The bell rang; the fight was over. It was a draw. The crowd rose to applaud Monaghan and his final moments in the ring. They clapped warmly. A tear ran down Rinty’s cheek. He could not contain his emotion. He raised a fist and saluted his opponent. They hugged each other firmly, in a symbolic moment. The London crowd roared louder. Now the fight promoter took the microphone, and held it out to let the fighters have their say. The crowd fell into silence.

Rinty Monaghan spoke to his admirers one last time, in the simple style of a Belfast man: “Thanks very much.”

Alan Alfredo Geday