NO GUTS, NO GLORY.

Repton Boxing Club is a boxing club in Bethnal Green, East London, which was established by Repton School in 1884 and operated as part youth club, part boxing club. In 1971, the club became solely dedicated to boxing and built an elite status and a solid rep for turning ordinary boxers into champions.

David Robinson is the club’s chairman and has been part of the furniture for nearly half a century. He worked alongside the legendary head coach Tony Burns and claims to have negotiated the thousand-year lease for the club.

As I stepped inside the club’s doors, I was warmly embraced by a thick blanket of humidity. The same hot air that hits you in the face when you step off a plane in Indonesia. And there’s a smell, the smell shared by most boxing gyms which simply represents one thing; hard work. The scent may offend some, but it doesn't offend me. It brought back memories of my (very amateur) boxing days which I greatly miss. It’s busy and loud in there with the sound of punches hitting bags and swooshes of skipping ropes. Everyone is dripping in sweat; I stand out like a sheep among wolves.

I was promptly greeted by Mehmet, a Repton coach, who had kindly organised the shoot for me. David Robinson dubiously steps out of his office, sporting a slightly suspicious expression. He is wearing a starchy, stiff dark green shirt with the club’s logo stitched in gold onto the pocket. His right hand is wrapped in what seems to be a compression bandage which adds to his character. He later tells me that he got his hand caught up in a cement mixer. 

He quickly glanced at me from head to toe and in a cockney accent introduced himself as ‘Dave’ and asked if I was with the police. Unsure as to whether he was winding me up or not, I awkwardly laughed and assured him I wasn’t here to lock him up and throw away the key. Mehmet laughed and said the police often follow Dave, even to the shops, as he was once associated with The Kray twins. I still can’t figure out if they’re joking. However, it is common knowledge that the club has produced many outstanding boxers, including the notorious gangster twins; the Krays. 

We soon established common ground when I shared that my Dad was born in Bethnal Green in the 1940s and had boxed at Oxford House in his youth. After a meticulous 10-minute investigation, Dave swapped his look of suspicion for a more gentle expression and with a nod of approval he began the grand tour of the gym.

The walls are covered in a layer of black dirt, and peeling green and gold paint which hold the pictures of 500 national champions produced by the club. A sign hangs inside in big bold letters that read, ’No Guts, No Glory’ - the iconic club motto.

He leads me into his tiny office where the back wall is covered in framed pictures, endless memorabilia and shiny trophies. He starts telling me about his childhood, his abusive alcoholic Dad and how he is “an immigrant, not an East Ender”. He proudly shares the history of the club and points to the Repton Prayer titled ‘Don’t quit’ which hangs, framed on a white wall. It’s gritty, raw and unpretentious. 

As the dramatic rays of sunlight cast down from the sky windows, his piercing blue eyes would briefly light up before being engulfed in shadow again. I began snapping some photographs of him while he continued sharing his stories with me. He blinked rapidly, like a machine gun firing. He told me that he has had many people take his picture before so he was used to being in front of the camera. He barely wavered from his stern gaze, only occasionally breaking it with a faint smile.

As we ducked under the ropes, towards centre stage in the boxing ring, we were greeted with laughter as the boys joked about Dave’s modelling career. They were friendly and perfectly respectful; the type of boys that any mother would be proud of. Dave tells me that everyone is welcome in the club, as long as they respect the gym, each other and don’t swear. Mehmet had previously warned me over the phone of Dave’s swearing habit.

800 photographs later, we called it a day as the sun was soon to disappear, much like Dave himself. He handed me a Repton T-shirt and told me that I was welcome to hang around and come back to visit anytime. As soon as he was gone the gym became my playground. I ducked and weaved through the confusion of skipping ropes, sit-ups and punch bags. I felt a sense of pride seeing a tough, young girl representing the female boxing contingent, her eyes blazing as she punched the air. I chatted with them about their Repton experiences and boxing futures while watching a young lad and his trainer dance in the ring. They all wanted the photographs for their Instagram.

I finally left the club with a big smile on my face, promising Mehmet that I would give boxing another chance if I could do a training session with him. He accepted. I won't deny it, the cold air was a welcome relief as the doors swung shut behind me. 

See you soon Repton.

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