A fighting chance: Kirkdale’s Inclusive Hub shows the best of boxing

“I’d love to fight Dillian Whyte. Or even Anthony Joshua. I’d have them in all sorts of trouble with my left hook.”

Daniel Howarth isn’t joking. Well, he is… but, he isn’t.

“One, two,” bellows Gerard Starkey, founder of the Inclusive Hub boxing gym, as the sound of Daniel’s stiff jabs and straight rights reverberate around the stoned walls of one of Liverpool’s most treasured communities.

Daniel’s footwork is exemplary. He glides around the ring, fleet of foot, like a man leading a complex ballroom dance. Every punch is thrown with venom. His heavy hands are well-crafted tools, controlled and capable of communicating clearly where other parts of his body struggle.

Gerard winces as he holds the pads for one of his most committed charges. He nods towards me with widened eyes and unmistakable pride as if to emphasise how much talent seeps from the 28-year-old’s gloves.

Daniel lives with Down syndrome but has been given a fighting chance. And it’s one he is taking with both fists clenched.

“The Inclusive Hub is for any age or any ability,” Gerard Starkey tells Bad Left Hook. “Everyone has the same right as you or me to facilities such as these, but there are sections of the community that continue to get left behind. It’s our mission to continue to provide a chance for those that feel isolated in their day-to-day life – we are the last chance saloon for so many.”

“Everyone has different needs,” he continues passionately. “I don’t believe in the term disabled – just that some people have more or fewer abilities in certain things. We all more or less balance out in some way or another.”

It’s a sentiment that is immediately evident as you walk through the doors of the Inclusive Hub in Kirkdale. Boxing gyms can be daunting and intimidating environments, but the members of the Hub glow with confidence and welcome all that wish to join them.

It looks no different to any amateur boxing gym; it smells no different; it feels no different. Heavy bags hang from the ceiling and equipment surrounds a pristine roped ring that would have witnessed hundreds of rounds of committed pad work.

“We started out working mainly with those on the autistic spectrum,” Gerard explained. “But as we’ve grown, we’ve been able to work with local schools and help kids that struggle with behavioural problems like ADHD.

“The first year that we had kids come in from local schools, their attendance went up from 75% to 95%, which is remarkable really. We were also signposting some of those kids to amateur boxing gyms, they were that good!

“We’re the last step for a lot of these kids in schools. If we don’t reach out and provide a space for them, then they will most likely get lost in the system forever. It’s an easy sell to them – if they behave at school and attend, then they get the opportunity to have an afternoon out of class at the Hub.”

“It’s a gateway from boxing to education,” Callum Smyth of Clifford Holroyde School explains. He’s been bringing kids here from his SEN school for three years now and the improvements in behaviour are stark. “Coming to the Hub is seen as a reward for the kids. Some have even started coming at the weekends as they enjoy it so much.”

Our interview is interrupted, politely and cheerfully by Michael Delaney – another member of the Hub who has reaped more rewards than most. Michael also lives with Down Syndrome and experienced a tougher pandemic than most. Unable to see his friends at college throughout a torrid year, Michael developed selective mutism as a consequence of his confusion and concerns.

His Dad reached out to the Inclusive Hub in hope of getting Michael counselling, but instead, he was offered a job. The 22-year-old now works two mornings a week at the Hub and his confidence has improved immeasurably over this period.

“Oh, I love the dancing best,” Michael tells me with a massive smile plastered across his face. The penny drops. It was Michael who I saw first walking into the Hub, dancing like a young will.i.am to a track by The Black Eyed Peas. He shakes my hand firmly and bullishly – he’s a champion in his own right.

“It loosens them up and really increases their confidence,” Liam Starkey – Gerard’s son – interjects. “They queue up, have to do a dance in front of everyone, then hit some combinations on the pads and return to the back of the queue. This is one of the most popular circuits we do.”

Lyndsay Dixon (29) agrees. We talk about our shared love for Ricky Hatton as she tucks into a lunch provided after her session.

The Inclusive Hub has been running for six years now with close to 400 members on their books. The Starkey family employ full-time, qualified staff to help keep it open as many hours in the day as possible – in some instances, 24/7 – and they are funded by the altruism of the Steve Morgan Foundation. As well as providing boxing sessions, the Hub acts as a drop-in information centre for those in the community that have nowhere else to turn.

“We’re trying to create a legacy here,” Gerard continued. “This building is 150 years old and was originally used as a correctional school for misbehaving boys in the 1800s. I grew up next door to the Hub so I’ve always been aware of this building and how it could play such a special role in the community.

“It’s a safe space – that’s what I am most proud of. All we do is provide an environment where people can find their true self.”

Gerard was a successful amateur himself, boxing alongside Joey Frost and Tony Willis in the 1970s. But I sense that his achievements inside the ring pale into insignificance compared to the work he does now.

The first rule of boxing may be to keep your guard up at all times, but members of the Inclusive Hub are encouraged to lower theirs. This is providing extraordinary results.

I fist-bump Daniel as I say my goodbyes. He feints a shot to the body and laughs. “Careful,” he smirks. I’m certainly not going to get on his wrong side…

Lewis Watson is a sports writer from London, UK, and a member of the BWAA. Follow or contact him on Twitter @lewroyscribbles