A CONCRETE jungle and the long, looming shadow of the ‘Iron Lady’ could never obscure Sean Crowley’s sense of who he was.
For 44 years the Conservatives maintained power in the London borough of Wandsworth, often bucking the national trend. At the very height of her reign, this cradle of privatisation was one of Margaret Thatcher’s key command posts.
The Crowleys lived in a council estate near Battersea. Both Sean’s parents were Irish, Jack Prendergast from Donegal and Nora Crowley from Limerick, but he carries his mother’s name because it was she who raised and shaped him.
It was easier to be English than Irish in Wandsworth in the 1980s. Keep the head down, say nothing. The Crowleys were never trouble-seeking types, but living in the bosom of Thatcher’s Britain sought only to strengthen their identity rather than suppress it.
And so, as a consequence, they were targeted. Windows were smashed. There were attempted arson attacks. The side of their house was daubed with the words ‘IRA scum’.
Times were tough.
“But all that made us even more proud to be Irish.
“Some time in the ‘80s Ireland were playing England at Wembley, and as we were approaching the stadium there was a stall selling scarves - my mum turned round to me and goes ‘what scarf do you want?’ I was like ‘do you have to ask?’
“We were Irish; literally, that was it.”
With Nora busy running a pub in Kensington, Crowley spent the summer holidays in Ireland, usually with cousins in Longford as the connection was cemented further.
“They were always glad to have me home…”
That’s why, when it came to setting down roots later in life, there was only ever one place calling.
“Raising a family in England was never an option for me, especially in London, not a hope.
“The way it was with the knife crime that was going on – and is still going on – it was never the place I wanted to rear a family.
“I always had such a strong pull to come back here.”
For the last 23 years the Crowley clan have lived in Cavan, just across the border from Fermanagh. It was from here that a sporting story which started south of the Thames would be picked up on the banks of the Erne, leading to a place at the heart of Irish boxing and a second crack at the game he loves.
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DENNIS Andries bounced up and down off the canvas like a rubber ball, but a bloody end was inevitable as ‘The Hitman’ found his groove.
Sean Crowley remembers watching in awe as Andries was repeatedly dropped by Tommy Hearns in their 1987 world title clash, referee Isaac Herrera eventually sparing the over-matched Londoner from any more punishment after 10 brutal rounds.
Everything about that fight got the juices flowing again. Crowley had boxed a bit with Wandsworth Boys’ Club as a kid but, now 14, and after a few years away, the itch was back.
A talented local boxer, Peter Wilson, brought him to Earlsfield Boxing Club and, from there, he never looked back.
Crowley won a south-west London elite title, mixing it with – and beating – the likes of future world title challenger Howard Eastman on the way to an amateur record of 16 wins and eights losses.
“Probably five of the losses were on split decisions,” he smiles.
“I beat some good people I had no right to beat and lost to a few people who had no right to beat me.
“It was one of those up and down careers, but I done alright.”
The vest, however, held limited appeal.
With the likes of ‘Sugar’ Ray Leonard, Marvin Hagler and new kid on the block Mike Tyson sprinkling stardust on the pro game, Crowley was keen on a slice of the pie – until a harsh dose of reality slammed home like a sledgehammer.
Sitting down with promoter Frank Maloney – now Kellie Maloney – in Nora Crowley’s pub, the terms of engagement were laid out in the starkest of terms.
“Like a lot of kids over in England, amateur boxing was a pathway to pro boxing; people didn’t really think about the Olympics at that time. The pro game was more prestigious.
“My schoolwork, I had no interest in it, all I could think about was boxing. My mum was a single parent, so from the age of 15 I was working full-time in a bakery at night then going to school during the day, training when I could… I was on the go all the time.
“Then I left home at 18, had to fend for myself, so I was always double-jobbing just to get by. I never really gave up on my boxing dream but, just because of personal circumstances, I couldn’t train to the same capacity as the top amateurs.
“Boxing was sort of being left behind, but Tom Maloney arranged for his son, Frank, to come in and see me. Now, Frank sat down and really explained to me in layman terms the life of a pro boxer – how you got paid, what your requirements were in terms of ticket sales… it really put things into perspective.”
The detail of that conversation remains crystal clear.
“He told me to go away and write down the name of every person that was going to buy a ticket, then divide that number in three.
“Then he told me ‘if it’s over 100, give me a call; if it’s not, then stick at the amateur game and try to win an Olympic medal’.
“At that stage I knew the pro game wasn’t going to do for me because, at best, I was going to be a journeyman, a trier - I knew I wouldn’t be able to sell the tickets. Eventually I just got on with life after that.”
All these years on, the decision not to give it a go still niggles.
“Yeah… yeah it does. I do regret not giving it a try.
“I look at Howard Eastman, who I beat – he was probably one of the boxers I had no right to beat – and he went on to have a great career. Allan Gray was a decent pro who I beat as well… I could’ve done alright.
“I’m not saying I would’ve got to European level or anything like that, but I would’ve done alright.”
Instead he turned his focus elsewhere - rose through the ranks at work, found other interests like running. He enjoyed the different challenge, the buzz of competing against himself. Life was grand.
Boxing, though, wasn’t done with Sean Crowley yet.
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NOT long landed, it was while flicking through the pages of the Anglo-Celt one day that he noticed a piece about the rising tide of talent at Cavan Boxing Club.
Mention was made, too, of an upcoming international tournament against a Canadian select at the club, so Crowley and wife Sarah made the short trip out. This was the early Noughties, long before Katie Taylor and Kellie Harrington would become household names.
Back then female boxing was still viewed with suspicion in some quarters, horror in others. Crowley, though, was mesmerised by the skill on show, prompting Sarah to nudge him at the end, encouraged her husband to go over and offer his services to Cavan coach Brian McKeown.
“She’s a boxing widow now so no doubt regrets it.
“I spoke to Brian, asked if he needed a hand, he said ‘look lad, there’s a set of pads over there’ - that was it for the next four years. I learnt so much from Brian… I’ve got nothing but respect for the man.
“And the moment I put those pads on, I was hooked – any unfulfilled ambition as a boxer manifested itself in trying to develop the next generation.”
Future Olympic silver medallist John Joe Nevin was a kid with a dream at that time. So too the late David Nevin. Ceire Smith, who would go on to win multiple Irish titles, was just starting out. These were exciting times.
Eventually, though, Crowley wanted to stand on his own feet rather than carry on as a helping hand.
He started a club in Derrylin, which would later become the successful Erne Boxing Club, now based in Lisnaskea and home of reigning Irish lightweight champion Rhys Owens.
Kinawley lad James Allen, who would go on to play full-back for Fermanagh, was the club’s first Ulster champion, with Lauren Crawford the first to claim national honours the following year.
Crowley’s daughter Kaci had a natural aptitude between the ropes too, winning European schoolgirl gold as well as topping the pile in Ireland three times. It felt as though he had found his calling.
“Boxing just absorbs you, doesn’t it?
“Every coach in the country starts out with the intention of giving a little bit of a hand, then next thing you know you’re in with both feet. The competitive side comes out, you get a little bit of success and you want more.
“When I formed Erne, because we were a new club, I felt I had a little bit to prove. With the likes of Anthony Malanaphy, it’s a personal success story because he was a very talented youth boxer… I actually thought Anthony had more ability than John Joe Nevin at 15, 16.
“Anthony went to university in Coleraine and he struggled, he lost his way, but through boxing he’s been able to get his life back on track.
“After five years out he returned to the sport – he’s just had that little bit of bad luck, but I’m sure if he keeps persevering his big day will come.”
That’s why success can never solely be counted in terms of medals tallied. Crowley knows the value boxing brings; he has seen it. Lived it.
Before Covid he helped set up the ‘Gloves Up, Guns Down’ International Box Cup with the Newburgh club in New York, twice bringing teams from Fermanagh to the Big Apple to showcase the positive impact the sport can have.
And in the weeks leading up to Christmas he received a letter from a parent whose son didn’t want to go to school prior to walking through the doors at Erne. Now, after performing well in GCSE mock exams, the future looks bright.
“That really resonates with me.
“When I was growing up, the area I lived in was always rife with glue sniffing, drug using, underage drinking, as well as a lot of petty crime. So boxing, for me, was a key diversion.
“I could’ve easily slipped down the wrong path, but boxing kept me right. I grew up without a father and it was a sport that gave me personal discipline… I’ve never forgotten that.
“That’s why our community impact is more important than anything else. We’ve got 40 or 50 members, such a wide variety of boxers there - for some of them their pinnacle might be getting to the point where they’ll get in the ring and have an exhibition match.
“It’s those success stories that are just as important to me as any titles.”
And, nowadays, the dream has never been more alive.
Two years ago Crowley left his post at the Irish Judo Association to become a High Performance administrator with the Irish Athletic Boxing Association (IABA).
Working alongside performance director Tricia Heberle, who finished up at the end of last year as the IABA search for a successor, he was later upgraded to High Performance unit manager.
Coming just as the Paris 2024 Olympic cycle was reaching its peak, the first six months of last year went by in a blur. Not only did those still in the qualification mix require careful planning, so too those who had already sealed their spot as preparation was fine-tuned.
Then there was a separate squad of first reserves who had to be sharp and ready in the event anybody was forced out. With so many balls in the air it would be easy for one to slip, but they didn’t.
“I can’t remember the last time I slept more than four hours, to be honest.
“I was an insomniac as a kid, and all the way through my 20s anyway, so my mind and body are used to lack of sleep. But when you’re doing something you love, it’s easy.
“It’s tiring, stressful at times, but it’s easy because you’re putting your heart and soul into something that you love.”
Crowley’s last involvement with the team was before they headed off to a final training camp in Kienbaum – yet he still made it to the French capital under another guise, having worked with Sport Ireland’s anti-doping unit since 2008.
That has seen him serve as station manager at the Rio and Tokyo Games, though the conflict of interest brought about by his IABA role saw Crowley despatched to the rowing at Vaires-sur-Marne last summer.
“I was still finished up early enough most days so got over to see a lot of the boxing…”
Harrington brought home Ireland’s sole medal but, having qualified a record-equalling team of 10, Crowley has no doubt that brighter days lie ahead as attention turns to the Los Angeles Games in 2028.
“Honestly, I’m really honoured and privileged to be working in the High Performance unit - we’ve just got such an abundance of talent coming through the ranks at the moment.
“Any Olympian still in the squad has to look over their shoulder because there’s two young ones striving to take their spot as the number one. That’s really having a positive effect, you can see the extra effort that’s going in, the extra intensity that’s in the boxers’ work, and that’s going to manifest itself into results this year.
“Even still, we’ve got some real talent waiting to join us – the World youth kids, the gold medallists, silver medallists and other medallists from that team and the European youth team, are still to come in in the next 12 months, so it’s really exciting times ahead.
“We will achieve big things over the next four years.”
And, if they do, there will be nobody more proud to have played their part.
