Boxing Betty fighting fit at 65

Apr 7 2008 By Lorne Jackson

AS she slipped into the boxing ring, Betty Nicholas made quite an impact on the cage fighters.

They were already training hard when she arrived.

Sour sweat spritzed from their gleaming bodies, forming a light mist of testosterone and aggression.

Betty quietly laced up her gloves. Understandably, the cage fighters - big, burly, bruisers - couldn't quite believe what they were seeing.

After all, Betty wasn't big.

Or burly.

She was certainly no bruiser.

In fact, she arrived wearing specs, wore her hair neatly, and spoke with a posh accent, words exquisitely clipped like a freshly-mown English lawn.

She was also 65 years-old.

No wonder it was difficult for the hard men to take her seriously.

Shamefully, they even let slip an indulgent chuckle or two.

Then Betty started to box.

She jabbed. Hooked. Rolled punch after punch. Threw haymakers.

There was no more chuckling after that.

Given her clear talent, it is surprising that Betty, from Alvechurch in Worcestershire, is only a recent convert to the fine art of pugilism.

She was persuaded to take up the sport by Neil Perkins, her trainer at the Fighting Fit Gym.

Based in Birmingham's Jewellery Quarter, this is no ordinary backstreet brawler's sweat shop.

Fighting Fit doesn't train street kids to battle for Lonsdale Belts. Instead, white-collar professionals are taught boxing as a method of shedding flab and getting trim.

White-collar professionals like Betty. Until retiring in January, Betty - who has five grandchildren - worked for the health authority.

Now she loves the old bash and smash. "At first I just wanted to get fit the normal way," she says. "But Neil had other ideas. He suggested we try the boxing. I wasn't too sure to start with. But now I love it.

"Believe it or not, I'm fitter than I was 20 years ago."

Thriving on the training, she takes pride in dumbfounding innocent fools who don't realise how adroit she is with the mitts.

The cocky cage fighter, for instance, who arrived for training at the gym at the same time as her.

"When they first caught sight of me it was 'Ho-ho-ho, there's a little old lady getting into the ring.

"But when they saw some of my moves, they had to take a second glance. I love to deceive people with the way I look.

"I work hard at the boxing - two 45 minute sessions a week. So I'm certainly no slouch!"

That's no idle boast.

In fact, Betty is rather modest when it comes to discussing her fighting prowess.

Trainer, Neil, who also owns Fighting Fit, enthuses over his star pupil's aptitude.

"When you first see her, you just think she's this sweet little lady. And it's true that she doesn't have a violent bone in her body.

"I'd love to get her in the ring for a proper fight. But so far she's declined."

That's another service Neil provides for many of the polite, middle-class professionals who train at his gym.

He gets them involved in authentic slug-fests.

Every few weeks he takes a coach-party of accountants, lawyers and doctors to meet a bunch of architects, archaeologists and academics.

They nod politely. Make idle chit-chat... Then belt the living daylights out of each other.

It sounds like a curious way for highlytrained, educated men and women to act.

Yet white collar boxing is a hobby that is fast-growing in popularity.

Although it gained notoriety through the cult movie, Fight Club, starring Brad Pitt, it actually first came to prominence in the early 1990s, when many professionals joined Blue Collar gyms like Gleason's in Brooklyn, one of the oldest boxing gyms in the US.

By 2004, 65 per cent of Gleason's membership was white collar.

An English businessman, Alan Lacey, brought it to the City of London and started to stage popular white collar boxing events. Now Neil has brought the concept to Birmingham. He eventually hopes to branch out with more gyms in the Midlands.

An experienced fitness instructor, Neil also boxes professionally.

The Merchant City resident certainly knows how to handle himself.

Before becoming a trainer, he worked as a bouncer on the doors of some of Brum's roughest clubs.

A working class boy himself, he struggled hard to escape the mean streets.

Now he refuses to let dodgy geezers into his gym.

"If somebody new wants membership, and they immediately say its because they want a fight, then I know that's not the kind of client I'm looking for," he says.

"That's not what it's all about. I love boxing, and I want to educate people who don't know much about it, encourage them to appreciate the sport.

"Ninety-five percent of my clients are just using the boxing as an authentic fitness programme. Only five percent want to get involved in boxing at shows.

"You can embrace the sport without getting hit. What I don't want is people who are just after a bit of aggro. Luckily we have a lot of policemen who come in to work out, including the Assistant Chief Constable of West Midlands Police.

"When I mention that it scares off the wrong elements."

Not all of Neil's clients want to fight in the ring. However, all the trainers in his gym have a background as boxing coaches.

So why does Neil think professional people want to be barked at by boxing bruisers?

At least when they were only puttering about the golf course, there was no chance of a bloody nose or cauliflower ear.

"The corporate world is so sterile, this gives them a slice of authenticity. We have firms coming here for bonding sessions.

"It's very satisfying for an office junior to get the chance of socking his boss.

"We've also got all the equipment you get in a regular boxing gym. Only without the grubbiness - tuberculosis couldn't live in most of those places!" l For more information about Fighting Fit Gym, telephone 0800 0190 308.