Read The Scrapper for Free Online Page B

camera. Snap and flash. There was a whirring sound as the camera spit out its photo. Waving it like a fan, Froggy shuffled towards the locker-room, past two older men playing chess. Both players had been boxers for years and looked like they’d been hit in the face by the samefrying pan, their features identically flat. Just as Froggy passed, one of them made a move. ‘What kind of a fuckin’ move was that?’ demanded one of the men watching the game. ‘What would you know?’ the one who’d made the move asked. ‘I know this much, if I was the king on your board I’d be chargin’ you with fuckin’ treason.’ The men laughed, but all this meant nothing to Froggy.
    Oblivious to it all, Froggy made his way to the lockers. He opened the door of his own locker and placed the new photograph of Sparrow on top of piles and piles of photographs. Froggy had kept every photograph he had ever taken. Froggy then went to the showers and turned one on. He checked that there was soap in the soap tray. Then carefully laid a large towel outside the door of the shower for Sparrow. He whipped up a smaller towel and headed back to Sparrow.
    Back at the punch-bag, Sparrow was working furiously. He threw a right-left-right combination. His body weaved right and left, his stance continually changing as the bag swung back and forth. Perspiration was running down his face and down his back and shoulders. Each punch of the bag was punctuated by a grunt. In his mind Sparrow heard the crowd scream. He threw a stiff right into the middle of the bag – and saw the Spaniard stagger away. He heard Molloy scream from the corner, ‘Finish it now, finish it now.’ As tears began to stream from his eyes, he jabbed the bag twice and threw a right hook. He saw his father, now deceased, standing and shouting, ‘Yes Sparrow, yes Sparrow, this is it.’ Sparrow stopped. With the suspension rope squeaking the bag swung from side to side. Sparrow stood, frozen, in front of it. Slowly he extended his hands andsteadied the bag. Slowly he raised his right hand to his mouth and bit at the velcro on the mit. He repeated the action with the other hand and tossed the mits on the floor beneath the bag. With his head down he began to make his way to the locker room.
    He was stopped on the way by Froggy. ‘Will we box now, Sparrow? Come on, I box yeh!’ Froggy’s voice was enthusiastic.
    Sparrow tried to fob him off. All around them were other boxers who had been training or working-out. They began to wind down and smile over at the two men, knowing what was coming. The Froggy-versus-Sparrow bouts had become a ritual of Sparrow’s work-out days. Sparrow didn’t feel like it tonight, but then he looked into Froggy’s face: he was so excited, his eyes dancing in his head. Sparrow smiled and put his hand on Froggy’s shoulder.
    ‘Okay then, come on, Froggy – yeh killer!’
    ‘Ooo … gonna knock you fuckin’ block off, Spawoo!’ was Froggy’s cry as he quickly made his way to the ring. The two men climbed into the ring and interrupted two sparring boxers. The training all around the gym stopped and the boys and men gathered around. Two trainers, Duffy and Flynn, hopped into the ring to be Froggy’s seconds, and in the other corner one of the young boxers helped Sparrow on with his gloves. Froggy sat on the stool in the corner as if preparing for a world title fight. Flynn helped him on with his gloves, and while doing this he spoke to Froggy.
    ‘Froggy, listen, this is important. Never smoke in the cinema – and close the cover before striking.’
    Froggy looked up into Flynn’s face and nodded. ‘Okay, boss.’
    Now Duffy joined in. ‘Froggy, never piss while the train is stopped in the station.’
    Froggy looked at Flynn. ‘Okay, boss.’
    Someone hit the bell and the two boxers rose to their feet. Just as Froggy was about to make his way out of the corner, Flynn called after him.
    ‘Oh – and Froggy.’
    Froggy spun around quickly to look at