Entering the gym I was very nervous. I imagined encountering a lot of tough boys with blank stares who would never warm to me and would freeze in front of a camera. I spent my first hour in the corner. The camera turned off. I giggled to myself and laughed at how wrong I was. Then I kept watching.
I watched how each child put every ounce of effort into each punch, whether they hit the training bag or not. Each punch was followed with a gaze, an excited search for Simon the coach. I saw the sense of accomplishment and ease they got from a single glance or an encouraging "keep it up, buddy." This relationship does not change as the fighters get older. By 7 o'clock, the teenagers are in, loud and boisterous, handshakes and playful punches. When Simon calls time there is precision. Concentration on all fronts.
Every member of Craigmore A.B.C. wants to be there. Some need to be there, some more than others. The beauty of their gym is that, regardless of the reason you are there, everyone is equal. Everyone is a fighter.
