I Can't Write Left-Handed

THERE have been countless songs written about the folly and fallout of war, though I’d argue no song has better captured the feeling of coming back from war than the Bill Withers’ song I Can’t Write Left-Handed, which he performed live at New York’s Carnegie Hall on October 6, 1972.

With a title alone superior to most other contenders, the image of a returning soldier having to figure out how to write – and function – without a part of him he once took for granted is a simple but powerful one, not only when viewed through the lens of war, but also when considered in the context of boxing, a pastime no less damaging and therefore equally questionable.

For it is, on the return, after the initial euphoria of coming home alive, that the real work begins for a fallen fighter. It is then, when the adrenaline wears off and the visits of well-wishers start to peter out, they must come to terms once and for all with the new shape of their life.

Clueless at first, this shape will invariably be formless, abstract, with all the routine and structure of old now belonging to someone else; another young fighter convinced they’ll be one of the lucky ones. Yet still the fallen fighter must go on, hopeful of one day looking back on their injury and saying, by comparison to the fates of others, “No, I was one of the lucky ones.”

PART I: Wiped Out

SHEFFIELD’S Jerome “Wipeout” Wilson was 29 years old when injured in a 2014 fight against Serge Ambomo and, eight years on, remains legally classed as disabled, a term he dislikes as much as understands. “I’m still able,” he said, “but at the same time I’m not ignorant to the fact I’m not the same person I was before.”

Ask him how he’s doing and, rather than sugar-coat it, Wilson will always be straight, often saying, simply, “I’m managing.”

It is an answer refreshingly transparent and refreshingly honest, serving to adequately sum up both Wilson’s aim and his level of ambition.

“I started by setting unrealistic goals after the injury,” he admitted. “I thought I’d be up and working within a few months. I was a bit deluded, to be honest.

“The pain is unbearable. I feel like chopping off my head”

“Right now, I’m more realistic.