Roy Shaw Unleashed - He's a one man killing machine. This is his story by those who know him best. Roy Shaw
shook his head. ‘It might have rattled some. Maybe if they hadn’t seen Roy fight before. But it was never in doubt. And definitely not after the first round. That was something else.’
‘It was that violent?’
‘Oh dear. Lenny was actually dripping blood. He was having his face smashed to a pulp. The floor was slippery. Everybody knew that Roy wasn’t going to let him go. It was like the gladiators in the Colosseum – the crowd were roaring their heads off. Lenny was groaning, he was doubled up. You could see he wanted to chuck it in.’
‘So they finished it?’
‘No. They couldn’t. Roy was still steaming. He was going on. There was no stopping him. He’d got himself psyched up for it and … well, it was a massacre. They managed to get him off eventually. Roy would have kept at it until he’d finished him.’
‘Do you mean killed him?’
Alan shrugged.
‘So, you would say that Roy’s a wild man when he gets going?’
‘Roy Shaw is one of the most respected and looked-up-to men in London today. You’d have to be a fool to try to cross him. Or not have heard of him. He’s one of the most dangerous men as well.’
I glanced across at Roy; he was chatting up a beautiful blonde young lady at the bar. He can be as soft as marshmallow when it suits.
‘If he’d got his British boxing licence and gone professional, Roy thinks it would have made a hell of a difference to his life.’
Alan agreed. ‘Without a doubt. He’d have had everything he wanted – legit.’
‘If you could have matched him with anyone to make a top fight, who would it have been?’
There was no hesitation. ‘Rocky Marciano.’
‘Why?’
‘Because they’re the same. Powerful men. They weigh their opponent up and go to the finish.’
There was one question I had to ask. ‘Alan, you were World Champion. Would you have fought Roy?’
He leaned back and thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully. ‘You can ask him if he’d have fought me. But that’s not a challenge,’ he said in a flat voice.
I had one last question. ‘You and Roy have moved in the same circles for a long time. You must have heard a lot of stories about him.’
Alan nodded. ‘Without a doubt.’
‘There must be something you know that not many other people do.’
His expression changed.
I went on anyway. ‘Come on, Alan. I love secrets. Are you going to tell me a secret about Roy?’
The shutters came down straight away. Alan set his glass down and edged to get up.
‘I don’t know one,’ he said. I was left in no doubt that the interview was over.
Roy was making his way across to us through the crush. He walked to the door with Alan and they looked at each other straight in the eyes. Then they shook hands and Alan Minter left without another word.
‘How did that go?’ Roy sauntered back, smiling. Friend or foe, he doesn’t give a damn.
ROY WAS ENJOYING HIMSELF. Admiring the view. Wherever you get powerful men and money, you get pretty girls and there were plenty at Terry Spinks’s party.
‘The brunette or the redhead?’ I joked.
‘I was thinking about the blonde,’ he told me, nodding towards a young lady at the bar.
‘A bit …’ I was going to say ‘young’ but then I saw his expression and thought better of it.
‘Do you want to know what Alan said about you?’ I asked.
‘He told you I was a gentleman.’
He did as well. ‘How did you know?’
Roy smiled.
‘We were talking about how you got into boxing.’
‘It was my dad’s brother started me off. Uncle Alf. He took me to a boxing booth when I was 11. Up the Commercial Road. We used to go to any boxing shows we could find. I knew even then that God had given me something.’
‘Your fists?’
‘Not just that. It was something else. Like a sort of strength. When I started fighting, I felt an adrenalin rush. An anger came over me like a red mist.’
‘Does it still?’
‘If I’m provoked,’ he told me calmly. ‘In those days, it was like a high-voltage current setting me alight. I couldn’t feel anything – cuts, knocks, pain. It didn’t matter if I got hit. It was an overwhelming urge to lash out. BANG! BANG! BANG!’
Roy’s fists were clenched and his face was red. I took a step backwards.
‘It was all my feelings coming out.’
‘Was it to do with losing your dad so suddenly?’
Roy nodded. ‘That was it. I wanted to hit back. I didn’t know what I had in me to start with. But Uncle Alf saw it. And when I’d whacked my opponent and seen him cowering in front me, finished, it was like a primeval satisfaction. I can’t explain it properly. I was trying to get my own back. Nobody was going to take anything away from me again. I wasn’t going to be afraid of anything … ever.’
‘What about your first fight?’
‘Uncle Alf took me to a circus tent. It was the Smith Brothers, they were putting on fights. He’d been trying to teach me, shadow boxing and tapping my face, that sort of thing.’
‘Was he psyching you up?’
‘He asked me if I was ready for it. I told him I was. But when it came to it, I felt a bit of nervousness. My opponent was a big lad and he’d fought before. He’d got all the proper kit, shorts and boots and a dressing gown.’
‘What did you have?’
Roy laughed. ‘I must have looked a sight. I’d got my sister’s swimming costume as shorts. And I was wearing plimsolls. The gloves were miles too big. They weren’t mine. The bloke before had been wearing them and they were sweaty.’
‘You didn’t have much of a chance.’
Roy smiled. ‘That’s what the kid I was fighting thought … until I got going. He made a fatal mistake. He tapped me on my chin …’ Roy growled like one of his Rottweilers, ‘… it made me remember those bullies in the playground. It sparked me off – my anger was like a hot furnace inside of me, it was burning me up and I couldn’t wait. It didn’t matter about the gloves and the plimsolls. I went straight at him like a thunderbolt. The minute he came within reach, I let go with a big punch. CRACK! He went down on his arse like a sack of potatoes. The crowd went wild. Uncle Alf was jumping up and down. And I’d won £3!’ Roy’s face was shining. ‘There’s nothing better than a straight pound note, especially when you’ve won it fair and square.’
‘You knew you were meant to be a boxer then?’
He nodded. ‘There wasn’t just Uncle Alf saw my potential. I started training seriously and boxing took