“I loved the sport from an early age, I think I was 11 years old, one of my first memories was when my mum took me to the dentist. I was looking at the sports section in The Sun newspaper just after Marvin Hagler had fought Alan Minter.”
Whilst tales of boxers at the dentist are not that incongruous, I could not help but see the irony that this; a place where people’s teeth were extracted, was where trainer Eddie Lam’s interest in boxing first piqued. It is like spending the afternoon in a soft play area, full of screaming children and then deciding you want to be a nursery teacher.
It is so often the case though, that people struggle to understand the irrational allure of such an arduous and potentially dangerous sport.
“I also loved to watch television on a Saturday afternoon, shows like Grandstand and that and seeing the fights from America with Larry Holmes and people like that. I was fascinated by the shiny red gloves with sweat on them.” Admitted Lam. These traits are what separates those who are truly enamoured with the sport and those who are not. Whether it is the sheen of sweat on the gloves, the odour of a run-down boxing gym or the perverse satisfaction gained from intense physical exercise, it is those strange innate desires that only boxers understand.
Eddie Lam has come a long way since that initial attraction. The man from Bromley is recognised today as a trainer out of the Ibox Gym, London alongside long-term friend and mentor Al Smith. The pair oversee a stable of fighters, many of whom have plausible aspirations of becoming a world champion, but as a young man, Lam’s boxing induction was less conventional compared to others. He didn’t-as is normally the case-follow siblings or family members into the gym and his motives were none too aspirational. “My parents were quite strict.” He explained.
“I never got to box until I was fifteen, and even then, I had to creep out and tell my mum and dad I was somewhere else. I started going to boxing sessions and the first gym I joined was The Lonsdale Gym on Carnaby Street in London’s West End. It was like £4.50 or whatever, I just wanted to go in, do a few sessions and tell everyone I was a boxer, but I never intended to fight. I never had to explain away a black eye to my parents as it goes, and I had the worst defence, so I don’t know how that happened.”
It is fair to say that Lam’s flirt with boxing soon became a full-blown relationship. “They had a boxing club in the Lonsdale Gym, Gainsford Boxing Club and Johnny Kent used to run it.” Said Lam.
“I used to go to a few training nights there, it wasn’t until I met a guy called Speedy Mitchell, his name was, he said, ‘Yeah, you’re gonna be a superstar!’ He took me on the pads a few times down there and ended up taking me to an amateur boxing club in Medway, Rochester in Kent. I trained there with Speedy who was an ex-contender himself, back in the day he fought Kirkland Laing, he may have even fought him twice, he was from Coventry, and I also trained with Ian John Lewis the referee. I used to have a move around and a spar with him, although he was a lot bigger than me, but he didn’t hit me hard.”
“Whilst at Medway Golden Gloves, I was trained by Bobby and Billy Beck and within 2 weeks Bobby said, ‘Look, I’ve got a fight for you in a couple of weeks’ time’. My dad was quite strict, but I gathered the courage to ask him if it was okay and he said, ‘Okay just try one and see how you go.’ I lost my first fight, had another one, won that and in fact won my next four. I thought, ‘After 5 I will retire.’ But then I thought, ‘Why not get to ten; double figures, then I can call myself a boxer.’ Then it was twenty, in the end I had about fifty-six senior fights as an amateur.”
It was not until Lam left Medway that his meritorious approach towards the art of boxing and the coaching aspect really kicked in. “After Medway, I joined Fitzroy Lodge and I was always close to the trainers, I always wanted to pick their brains, Mick Carney, and Billy Webster. Mick had his own car, but Billy (who was a great pad man), I always dropped him off home every night I trained. He lived near, but further on from me and he would always say, ‘Just drop me off here, Ed.’ He lived in Orpington, and I lived in Bromley, he was another three miles further out. I used to say, ‘Nah Bill, course not, I’m gonna drop you all the way home.’ But all the time, I was picking his brains, I was always asking about stories, I was fascinated.”
He continued to recall stories of encounters with boxing’s brightest personalities, unselfishly pointing out the merits of others. “On the Saturday, I would occasionally go down to the Henry Cooper Gym, which was down Old Kent Road, and it was Danny Holland there who was Henry Cooper’s cutman. A lot of fighters these days won’t remember these names, I’d pick his brains too, I think he used to use aftershave to stop the cuts for Henry Cooper. I was fascinated by the trainer side of it.”
I had hoped to shine a light on Eddie Lam, one of Britain’s unsung coaches, but it became increasingly apparent that Eddie was most at home amplifying the qualities of others that have helped shape his career, rather than talk himself up. Every time I attempted to shine a light, Lam acted as a mirror, deflecting any praise onto others. That is partially because he feels he is still a work in progress as a trainer. “I’m still learning.” He declared.
“I think the day you stop learning; you might as well pack it in. I’m always looking for better ways to do things, I try to keep the words and instructions in the corner clear and as simple as I can.
“Some of the things I say in the corner, my coach used to say to me. I had Skye Nicolson out recently and I said, ‘Don’t get bored by what you’re doing.’ My coach used to say that to me. As a young fighter, I didn’t listen, that’s why I never made it. I used to think, ‘What do you mean, don’t get bored?’ But now, it makes sense. Twenty or thirty years later, I know what he means. Skye was having it so easy; I didn’t want her to switch off. I didn’t listen to my coach; I wasn’t intelligent enough to understand. A good fighter is an intelligent fighter who understands, and we have a gym full of them at the moment. You tell those fighters, and they will listen and weigh it up.”
Eddie Lam’s own boxing career undoubtedly had an impact on the approach he had towards training others. “When I packed it in (fighting) I was always top ten in England in the ratings in Boxing News and ABS they used to have, Amateur Boxing Scene, a magazine for amateurs. But I could have achieved so much more. There were a lot of things I done wrong, the reason I am a coach is to put right where it went wrong for me. That’s the only way I could put it right.
“As a fighter, I was aggressive, I had no brains. I’d take one to give one. I had a conversation earlier today in the gym, all the old timers will tell you, ‘Don’t take one to give one, because it will catch up with you in later life.’ I’m feeling it now. As a youngster you don’t listen, you just think, ‘It don’t hurt, it don’t hurt.’
Lam explained that becoming a good trainer takes time, something he and mentor Al Smith have spent a lot of together. “It’s just experience, it is such a big difference being a fighter and a trainer, you don’t look at it from the other side. You sometimes get a fighter who becomes a trainer, and they have a little bit of a chip on their shoulder. It’s not just about pads, Al used to tell me that, my old coach Mick Carney would tell me that too.
“Pads, bags, skipping, groundwork, strength and conditioning, it’s all just a small part. I’ve been with Al for 12 years as an assistant and I still remember, I’d been in the amateurs 14 years and was one of the best in England, I remember him saying after we was watching a spar, ‘Ed, what did you see?’ I’m thinking to myself, ‘I can’t see a thing here’, I’m thinking, ‘I’ve been in the game all this time, and I can’t see a thing.’ But these days he says the same thing, he’ll say, ‘Ed, see what you think.’ He’ll come back and I’ll pick out three things.
“Al is more technical; I’ve learned loads from him, and I’d like to think he has learned a little bit from me. We compliment each other. He’s always told me, ‘Be your own man’, so if I don’t agree with him, I’ll tell him.”
Lam referred to Al Smith as the ‘main man’ in The Ibox Gym but revealed that even he was stumped as to what to do with one particular fighter. “I still remember Johnny Garton coming in and hitting the bag, he had had thirty odd fights as an amateur, lost ten of them and Southern Counties was as much as he’d won, like an area title in the amateurs. He was hitting the bag and Al looked at me and said, ‘What the hell are we gonna do with him?’ I just said, ‘I dunno, Al, I dunno.’
“He won four belts, he won Southern Area, IBF European, English, and British titles. All his dream was, was to win the Southern Area.”
Tangible accolades in boxing are no doubt important in terms of aspiration, and with fighters like Caoimhin Agyarko, Skye Nicolson, Dennis McCann and Micky Burke on the books, those accolades are sure to continue, but the London trainer values the intrinsic reward that comes from working with his charges far more. “I only spoke to Bradley Skeete yesterday, I was with him throughout his career, apart from towards the end he had a couple with Dom Ingle, but otherwise I was in his corner every time. I’m still good friends with him, we’ll go out for something to eat. Sam Webb, who was British champion, he was the first corner I worked, I’m still very good friends with him and we talk and go out on occasions. Johnny Garton, he’s getting married in August, going through his whole career and now seeing him get married. Lewis Pettitt, who came to us as a young kid at 19, he now has a couple of businesses, a couple of houses, he is successful and has three daughters. Just seeing them all do well, it means a lot and they’ll never forget your help. That’s more than money when you help someone in life.”
Discipline is often spoken about within boxing and the sport will always need people like Eddie leading by example, showing the younger fighters in the gym what commitment looks like. “All our fighters in the gym have different styles, we try to adapt to each one and get the best out of them, not change them but just add to them. He explained.
“I don’t do anything special to anyone else, but Mick Carney used to tell me, he told me, ‘Availability and reliability is more important than your ability.’ I’m there 6 or 7 days a week, luckily the gym is not too far from me, I’m only about a mile up the road, but I’m always there, your good coaches, your Jimmy Tibbs and your Al Smith’s, they have been in the game over 20 years, it takes time.
“My amateur coaches Mick Carney, Billy Webster, Tony Burns, Stevie Hiser from The Fisher Club, sorry if I have missed anyone, but those guys are good trainers, me? I ain’t a good trainer, hopefully one day but it takes time, I’ve been a pro coach for 12 years, hopefully my time will come. Like I said, I’m there nearly every day, holding their feet, counting their sit-ups, doing the Vaseline, wrapping their hands, it’s not just about being a good pad man.”
It is fitting that even when attempting to appraise his own career to date; the many sacrifices he has made, missing family occasions, his children’s parents evenings, the commitment he has made to fighters and their development, he still manages to lift up others and talk of the achievements of those who have gone before him, playing down his own affect. But that is the man Eddie Lam is, so affable and well respected by his peers. I would not mind betting that he has positively impacted all those fortunate enough to have worked with him.