THE Olympic Games has been an ever-present in the Storey household for as long as he can remember.
Munich 1972, Montreal ‘76, Moscow ‘80 – Sam Storey’s dad Gerry was at them all as coach of the Irish boxing teams.
As a young man, Sam would sit glued to the television coverage, hoping to catch a glimpse of that familiar face at the opening ceremony or elsewhere, all the while wondering about the sights his dad was seeing and the people he was meeting.
“He came home from Munich with Johnny Weissmuller’s autograph [American Olympic swimmer and actor who played Tarzan], then I remember watching Mark Spitz and just taking an interest in everything, all because you were sitting watching for him.
“But dad didn’t really talk about those Olympic experiences. It’s funny, there was three sons who all boxed, two of them wrapped it up. Gerry jr wrapped up then came back, did really well, went to the Commonwealth Games and got his Irish vest, but if any of us had said to dad we were packing it in, not that he wouldn’t give a toot… but he never once would say ‘are you not going to the gym tonight?’
“He left it up to us. There was no pressure from him.”
And while the Olympics was the realisation of his dad’s dream, Sam’s lay elsewhere during those early days at least, with football his first love.
As he moved towards his mid-teens, however, those dualling commitments proved incompatible. Football was causing more injuries than boxing and, after starring on his way through the underage ranks, Storey decided to follow his father’s path towards the ring.
“I was a football guy, football-mad,” he said.
“I played for the likes of Newington, St Teresa’s but then I started to win everything. Before I knew it I was Irish junior champion, going to the Europeans, then at 16 I was trying to juggle both.
“Three weeks before the European seniors in Hungary – now, I think my dad knows this – I went and played a cup final in Brantwood. I had to sneak out with my boots!
“Everything happened pretty quickly when it came to boxing, I was in the Irish vest before I knew it, my first Ulster senior fight was straight in with Tommy Corr, and then my first international was against Scotland, the ABA champion, when I was 18.
“So the football had to take a back seat eventually.”
A tall, rangy light-middleweight with a thudding right hand, that rapid rise resulted in Storey’s selection for the 1984 Olympic Games in Los Angeles at just 20.
“I actually had my 21st birthday out there in LA,” he smiles, “the Irish Olympic team had a big surprise party for me.
“Wee Gerry Hawkins was left in charge, he was meant to take me for a walk then when we were on our way back the lights were on in the medical hall in the athletes’ village, he says ‘we better go and make sure nobody’s in there’… of course all this was planned.
“We walked in, turned the light on and there everybody was, it was brilliant.”
Yet while Storey was part of a five-man team that included Hawkins, Phil Sutcliffe, Tommy Corr and Kieran Joyce, the absence of dad Gerry left a sour note then, and still doesn’t sit well 40 years on.
“That would have been the cherry on top of the cake - that was the big disappointment with ‘84.
“Because of the Irish boxing politics bullsh*t that goes on, my dad didn’t go to LA. It was a joke, what they did, and some of the people responsible for that, would you believe, are still involved in boxing down in Dublin today.
“I try not to talk about that aspect of it at all, but this is the topic we’re talking about. Honestly, how the likes of Gerry Storey even put up with all that crap… it’s mad.”
That frustration extended to life between the ropes too, where Storey’s Olympic preparation suffered a major blow when a broken thumb sustained at a training camp in Lake Placid left him unable to throw a punch for the five-and-a-half weeks leading into the Games.
Being paired with reigning world champion, Italy’s Romolo Casamonica, was not the draw to bed him into the competition either – though the Belfast man was ahead going into the third before being stopped in the last.
“I just ran out of steam…
“The whole build-up was a bit messy, but what a brilliant experience to have. We went to Lake Placid for a three-week training camp, San Diego for a week, then in LA you were watching the likes of Carl Lewis on the track, I met ‘Sugar’ Ray Leonard, Muhammad Ali… guys who were heroes of mine.”
That is why, despite the huge doubts over the sport’s Olympic future ahead of the next Games back in LA, Storey believes boxing’s place at the greatest show on earth must be preserved.
Having relocated to Murcia in south-eastern Spain 17 years ago, Storey has run his own Totana sparring camp every July during the last decade, working with boxers from Belfast and across Europe determined to hone their skills.
Some might make it, others won’t but, he feels, that shouldn’t alter their right to aim for the top.
“To me, the Olympics still has the same prestige – just look at the hype going into Paris this year.
“I’m not interested in the politics of boxing because it’s a minefield, and I don’t think there’s too many people out there who could actually sit you down and say ‘right, this is what is going on’. A lot of people are still very unclear.
“But the bottom line is it would be very sad if boxing was not at the Olympics. Because, as a boxer, you think of Ali, George Foreman, Joe Frazier, ‘Sugar’ Ray Leonard, and whoever is responsible should be absolutely ashamed of themselves that we are where we are now.
“Like, I remember what it was like fighting for my place on the Olympic team. I remember the day - the moment - I found out I was picked. Those are all special memories.
“There was a French kid at our camp last month, he was very good, one of the best that has come to my camp. I was asking his plan, what he wanted to do in the future, and he said ‘I’m going to the Olympics’.
“Now, he’s 21, he’s looking at LA in four years’ time. Talking about this, I’m thinking right away about him - and there’s a million kids out there like that, all with that same dream.
“It would be a sin to take that away.”
