by Clayton Goodwin
My abiding memory of Wayne Alexander was that punch with which he destroyed Takaloo, almost literally, in the second round of their fight at the York Hall, Bethnal Green on 10th September 2004. It was a make-or-break match for both men. Each was known to have a potent knockout out punch and each was initially apprehensive of the other. It was surmised, especially by his opponent’s corner, that Takaloo had the advantage of the first round. He started the second more confidently, backed Alexander towards a neutral corner, and prepared to deliver a punch which would have put the South Londoner out into the land of Nod – but Wayne got there first. Smack on the button while the man from East Kent’s blow was still on its way. Takaloo hit the floor, was counted out, and before I had left the ringside press-seats the siren noise announced the arrival of the ambulance.
There were other fight memories, of course. There was the night Alexander outpointed Viktor Fesechko at the Wembley Conference Centre, and also his brave but losing challenge – to which I believe he was summoned at 24 hours notice as replacement for the original contestant – to champion Harry Simon of Namibia at Widnes for the WBO world light-middleweight championship on 10th February 2001 before he was stopped in the 5th round. Yet this was not the man – or, to be entirely correct – it was not the impression of the man who greeted me after many years absence at Uxbridge railway station.
Wayne kicked off the conversation by assuring me that, although he now lived in North-west London, he was still very much a Croydon man. He had been born in Tooting 52 years ago but had been raised in Croydon and learned his boxing there – at the Prince of Wales gymnasium. That was the area associated hitherto chiefly with the McKenzie boxing brothers, of whom Duke is now a recognised and leading television commentator on the sport. Frankie Lucas, too, had come from these same streets to win the Commonwealth Games gold medal for his native St Vincent and the Grenadines after being controversially left out of the England team for which his selection had seemed to be certain. Yes, Croydon was rich in pugilistic tradition to which Wayne Alexander has now added his own name.
He is still very much involved in boxing – more that merely sharing its well-merited reputation for camaraderie of its veterans, both formally and informally. Alexander still steps through the ropes on a regular basis, but this time he dons the black bow-tie of a referee rather than the blood-tinged gloves of a pugilist. And he cuts a fine figure there, too, in what is known as the “white collar” circuit. “Firm but fair” is his maxim and I have not heard any-one say otherwise about him. And if any participant cuts up rough, or challenges his authority, I dare say he could still show them the fist that had quelled Takaloo and, thereby, restore order immediately.
Then Wayne threw the punch that I was not expecting.
“Boxing is still a good part of my life, but it is not the main part now” he told me. “I am a professional parent”. That had come out of the blue. Wayne took his phone from his pocket and showed me photographs of his daughters Sade (23 years) and Shania (13 years), and grand-daughter Skyla (5 years). “This is my life now”. On reaching home later that afternoon, I switched on to Facebook and saw just how true that was. Alexander pointed to his past, the grave of his beloved and deeply-missed father, Vincent, at Croydon and now the new generation. It was a seamless thread, and, certainly, not out of context. And that leaves me to contemplate – which is the real Wayne Alexander – fighter or father. I guess that the answer is “both” but if I had to hazard a guess, there would be no contest, my mind returns always to the photographs of his daughters and grand-daughter, and it would be by unanimous decision.
“Firm but fair”. Is that a description which suits his style of parenting as well as in the ring? I don’t know. Maybe, but I have a suspicion that the warrior who tamed Takaloo and took on the champion of the world at less than a full day’s notice could be a bit of a softee with his family outside the ring. And with those three lovely children you couldn’t blame him if they have conquered his heart . As for his continued affection for Croydon – my own daughter was born there, so I can see his point – sort of, to the speak.
Thank you, Wayne, I am waiting now to record the next round of your journey.
