this is from the May edition of our newsletter and is very funny
Memories of Pudsey Street Stadium
Some time ago I received a letter from our member Terry Kavanagh, who enclosed the following story which I’m sure our readers will find both humorous and interesting. . Terry writes-
“Where the Odeon Cinema now stands in London Road, in the city centre, this was the site of the former Pudsey Street Stadium. My father, who was boxing mad, used to tell me some great stories about the fights and fighters he had seen there. Some of the most famous fighters of the early part of the 1900’s boxed at Pudsey Street,fighters of the calibre of Jimmy Wilde, Freddy Welsh, and Ted “Kid” Lewis to name just a few.
Even though my Dad had never boxed himself he would tell a very funny story of how he managed to pose as a professional boxer for several years.
Fight nights at Pudsey Street always produced a “Full House” and even if you could afford a seat the chances of getting inside were slim. Bunking in was extremely risky as the stewards at the Stadium were made up of “ex-soap wrappers”, a term that my dad used to describe a boxer, and if they managed to catch you attempting to gain entry without paying, they were only to ready to convince you that it wasn’t worth the risk. My father had no worry on that score, for he’d conceived a plan for gaining entry that was “Foolproof”, or so he thought.
The management of Pudsey Street Stadium had a policy that should a billed fighter fail to turn up, and you were willing to take his place, then you were allowed in to watch the show for free. The fact that you had never been in a boxing ring in your entire was of no importance whatsoever, so long as you are willing to put yourself forward as “Cannon Fodder”. They even provided a special area for you to watch the proceedings from. it became known as “Mugs Alley”, and come fight nights my old man would swagger down Pudsey Street. past the waiting throng, pausing for a moment trying to look “Dead Hard”, before disappearing into the Stadium. He managed to carry on this charade for several years, until his bluff was finally called.
It happened one evening while he was watching one of his favourite fighters , Frank Moody, when all of a sudden he was grabbed by one of the Stadium stewards. “You’ll do” he said, “come with me”.
My dad nearly feinted and he tried to make a run for it , but the steward, who clearly had had previous experience of this means of escape, was too quick for him and grabbing my dad by the scruff of the neck he frog marched him to the dressing rooms. My dad’s excuses were flowing in quick fire shouts, but to no avail. Several people were in attendance, including my dad’s prospective opponent, who seeing my dads struggling to escape became extremely confident.
By this time the stadium seconds were becoming extremely angry, and one in particular with an odd sense of logic explained to dad that if he didn’t fight then the hiding he would give him would be far worse than the one he would get if he did, and suddenly they’d had enough, and one grabbed hold of him while another attempted to tear of his coat. Then the whole room fell into complete silence. I remember my dad saying to me “Your could have shoveled coal into their mouths” -and after what seemed like an eternity- the whole room erupted with laughter. The reason for my dads unwillingness to fight was now clear for all to see – he only had one arm – as a young lad he had been involved in an accident, losing his left one.
While everyone was falling around the room laughing, dad grabbed his coat and legged it from the stadium. His next visit to Pudsey Street Stadium saw him queuing up with the rest of the patrons, with his hat pulled down and his coat collar pulled up.
