FURY AND SON
@BigDaddyBunce
Voice of boxing
IN a boxing gym above a garage, on an industrial estate in south Manchester, a big man and his son lugged their kit bags up a steep staircase for the second session of the day.
It was another proper gym with lost boots, lost gloves, split mats, chains with no bags resting against the wall and the gentle smell of dirt and grime and hurt. Nobody was ever coming back for that one six-foot strip of stinking bandage, trust me.
The boy still has wet legs from the 10 rounds of sparring in another gym just a few miles
