I don’t know why my father loved boxing so much. He liked watching all the matches on television and even towards the later years, he wanted to go somewhere to watch the boxing.
When we were children Dad bought two pairs of boxing gloves and he got us into matches. I believe it was all for his own enjoyment because I was one who did not enjoy it in the least. The gloves were red and while they fit me and a couple of the older girls, they were way too big on the younger little Finlays.
Dad would wait until supper was over on a Saturday or Sunday night he would get out the boxing gloves and we would have to box. He would be the referee! It was fun for him and the boys loved it. I’m not so sure my sisters really liked it, but it made Dad happy. When my brother Andy got older he could easily win. I had experience trying to manage him when I had to babysit when Mom and Dad went out. I knew how strong he was because I’d have to sit on him to get him to stop him from fighting with his siblings. Chasing him around the house with a broom and the threat of hitting him with it didn’t work then.
After Mom died, Dad would go visit a friend in South Brook any time there was a good boxing match coming on. He would bring along some beer and his package of cigarettes. They would enjoy the boxing match and he’d speak of it the next day.
Years later when my father became ill, he would turn on the television and want us to sit and watch boxing. It could be 2 a.m. or 7 p.m. We weren’t allowed to make a sound. He loved for someone to sit and watch all the moves with him. And if the boxers weren’t very good, he would be disgusted. We’d watch a while and then he’d turn it off and go back to sleep. Though I never enjoyed watching someone bashing someone else’s head in or knocking him out, I liked the time with my father. Knowing he loved to have my company was the best part of the boxing match.