Jack

I miss the old guy so much. Jack Dormer, my old boxing coach. They just don’t make men like this anymore. He was a gentleman, never swore in front of a lady, never boasted and no one could consider him a vain man, he had done plenty to be proud of but he was so humble. He was like a second father to me and a lot of the lads at the gym. He looked after us all, not just in preparation for the ring but outside too, he spoke up for a lot of the kids when they got into trouble. Jackie has a reputation as a quiet and polite man when he was young, not a drinker, kept himself to himself, trained hard and was a fine diplomat for the sport of boxing. I have written in this blog about Gentleman Jack "Rockfist" Dormer before so I won't write too much here about his again. Just saw a few photos which brought back some nice memories of this Gentleman again.

I heard the story about another boxer who lived near Stirling at the Raploch. Ginger Lamont, a polar opposite of Jackie. Ginger was loud and brash, a bully and liked a drink. He never liked the recognition Jackie was getting and every time Jackie walked by Ginger’s house he would shout out a challenge to come in his garage for a “sparring” session. Of course Ginger was looking to chin Jackie with a sucker punch and increase his profile in doing so. As the story goes one evening Jackie accepted and when Ginger attempted a liberty blow Jackie countered and knocked the bold Ginger clean out, unlaced his gloves and went home. This is just one of the many stories I have heard about this beautiful man. Never from his lips but from sources, reliable sources such as my mum who lived around Stirling at the time. As a nurse she also remembers a drunken violent Ginger Lamont during his last days in a mental hospital (Bellsdyke), a jaw broken so many times his mouth would not shut proper. She also recalls Jackie, a gentleman, a quiet man always immaculately dressed and always polite.

Jackie died a few years back, the last time I saw him was in ASDA near the checkouts. He was so proud of these little cards he had printed with his name saying he was a trainer. I introduced him to my son Sam who has very young at the time. Sam never met my Dad, whom he is named after. My dad passed away many years before little Sam was born. It’s a lovely though that that Sam did get to me another influential man in my life, the legend which was Jackie Dormer. One of the last true humble warriors of the fight game. These days we see plenty loud mouth, tattooed, knuckle draggers who talk a good fight. If attitude reflected ability then these people would be so dangerous, but no…they are just pumped up white-collar “pillow fighters” would are not fit enough to lace on Jack’s gloves. How I miss sitting on the bench with a towel across my shoulders listening to Jackie’s “gospel”, the meals in the fancy restaurants we were treated to after the wine and dine shows, sitting there with cuts and bruises and stinking of deep heat, amongst tables with affluent rich business men but we enthralled with this old man’s stories and each treated like winners by him even if we fought and lost that evening. Jack Dormer, one of life’s true gentlemen.