I have a friend, no names, no pack drills.
Anyway this person - who came from an
athletically gifted but decidedly working class family, had
a limited choice in developing his sporting prowess.
His choice was either of those working class pursuits,
boxing or football.
He was guided into boxing by the ouvrier
upward mobility
of those around him. And so he became schoolboy,
junior and
then senior champion of Great Britain.
Then a successful professional. Someone who on the 'tele', signed autographs and handed prizes out at fetes and galas.
However, never lacking in grey matter, he decided that
this 'profession' of pugilism, was disgusting and got out of it by running away and living in New York.
Now a successful academic, with an Oxbridge partner and
high achieving Oxbridge educated children he cowers in embarrassment wheneverthose uber males wish to delve into his
interesting past. He once likened himself and other
naive pugilists to Othello,
noble warriors, who credulous, weres duped and
gulled by a linguistically fertile phalanx
of compromise nosed, cauliflower eared Iago's.
I bumped into him the other day in Leicester Square,
we small talked of the weather as people do when they have nothing to say. Then rather stupidly I asked him had he been
watching the football and I received the following gentle
wigging.
"Interesting you should ask that, I was returning from a
tutorial the other night and I passed this pub which was
literally overflowing with men, They were hollering and
hooting as they watched the football on this giant screen, and I though how disgusting, how crude, how tribal.
To get so excited about men running about in shorts
after a round leather object, is, well homoerotic to say the
least. Don't you think?"
"Eh well,yeah...yeah, yeah, I suppose it is."
Then awkwardly because I have to confess I am a bit in awe of him, I stupidly enquired
"I mean do you have that view
because of you past...the eh, pugilism?"
"Oh that hoary old chestnut...no...interesting you should
refer to that as motivation. I don't wish to be seen as
reactionary in relation to my pugilistic past. But it does
serve its purpose."
"Sorry, in what way?"
"Well, in the first instance, I am proud that I had the
nous to get out of what
is, in my view, a brutal, disgusting and degrading sport.
And it is useful in the way
I can make use of it as a measuring rod."
"I am sorry, I don't know what you mean?
"Well if people express an interest in pugilism that is my cue to give them a very wide berth."
"Right, right..."
"Look you will have to excuse me I have to attend a lecture...
Nice seeing you again."
And he was gone, a trim, lithe figure, absorbed by the
London crowd.
I just looked after him and cursed myself for bringing
up that stupid pugilism and to be deemed by him as another one
to steer well clear of.
English lessons on Skype at: http://tutoringexcellence.blogspot.co.uk/
Books by Peter Cheevers at: http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=peter+cheevers&x=0&y=0
.
Anyway this person - who came from an
athletically gifted but decidedly working class family, had
a limited choice in developing his sporting prowess.
His choice was either of those working class pursuits,
boxing or football.
He was guided into boxing by the ouvrier
upward mobility
of those around him. And so he became schoolboy,
junior and
then senior champion of Great Britain.
Then a successful professional. Someone who on the 'tele', signed autographs and handed prizes out at fetes and galas.
However, never lacking in grey matter, he decided that
this 'profession' of pugilism, was disgusting and got out of it by running away and living in New York.
Now a successful academic, with an Oxbridge partner and
high achieving Oxbridge educated children he cowers in embarrassment wheneverthose uber males wish to delve into his
interesting past. He once likened himself and other
naive pugilists to Othello,
noble warriors, who credulous, weres duped and
gulled by a linguistically fertile phalanx
of compromise nosed, cauliflower eared Iago's.
I bumped into him the other day in Leicester Square,
we small talked of the weather as people do when they have nothing to say. Then rather stupidly I asked him had he been
watching the football and I received the following gentle
wigging.
"Interesting you should ask that, I was returning from a
tutorial the other night and I passed this pub which was
literally overflowing with men, They were hollering and
hooting as they watched the football on this giant screen, and I though how disgusting, how crude, how tribal.
To get so excited about men running about in shorts
after a round leather object, is, well homoerotic to say the
least. Don't you think?"
"Eh well,yeah...yeah, yeah, I suppose it is."
Then awkwardly because I have to confess I am a bit in awe of him, I stupidly enquired
"I mean do you have that view
because of you past...the eh, pugilism?"
"Oh that hoary old chestnut...no...interesting you should
refer to that as motivation. I don't wish to be seen as
reactionary in relation to my pugilistic past. But it does
serve its purpose."
"Sorry, in what way?"
"Well, in the first instance, I am proud that I had the
nous to get out of what
is, in my view, a brutal, disgusting and degrading sport.
And it is useful in the way
I can make use of it as a measuring rod."
"I am sorry, I don't know what you mean?
"Well if people express an interest in pugilism that is my cue to give them a very wide berth."
"Right, right..."
"Look you will have to excuse me I have to attend a lecture...
Nice seeing you again."
And he was gone, a trim, lithe figure, absorbed by the
London crowd.
I just looked after him and cursed myself for bringing
up that stupid pugilism and to be deemed by him as another one
to steer well clear of.
English lessons on Skype at: http://tutoringexcellence.blogspot.co.uk/
Books by Peter Cheevers at: http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=peter+cheevers&x=0&y=0
.
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