Brendan Coffey spoke to Eric Donovan ahead of his third professional fight tomorrow night at the National Stadium against Rafael Castillo and found a content, family man who is eager to showcase his talents in the professional ranks.
Daddy comes in the door and four year old Troy runs wild with excitement.
Laura stands in the hall, smiling.
“He does anything to be like his Daddy,” she says, her affection for the boy and brother, Jack, bright as the smile on Troy’s face. Laura only came into their lives three years ago, when a date with Eric Donovan brought an end to single life.
The Kildare fighter faces Rafael Castillo from Nicaragua in his third professional fight this weekend in the Red Corner Promotions show in Dublin, but that is not on Troy’s radar.
At this stage, she’s accustomed to bedlam.
Laura Cusack, County Louth native and self-confessed soccer nut, had three brothers for company as a child in Tullyallen along with her baby sister.
Devotion to Liverpool FC was part of the deal. She’s still hooked on the game, eight years into her role as the FAI’s Development Officer in Kildare.
“He’d understand my football love and my Liverpool love,” Laura says. “Everything stops when Liverpool are playing.”
Later, when they’re gathered in the sitting room to watch The Reds play Spurs in the late kickoff at Anfield, she ushers Eric out of the way when he blocks her view of the television.
‘Lilywhite Lightning’ – Eric’s nickname as a professional fighter – had crossed her line of sight as he bounced around on his feet, dancing to the rhythm of a boxer’s beat. He’s lost in the moment, unable to resist the impulse to perform.
Over lunch, vegetable soup with a ham and cheese toastie, he enthuses about Peaky Blinders: “Great TV show. Loved it. They were looking for boxers to audition for the next filming that’s going to start in the spring. They were looking for boxers from the age of 20 to 25. I contacted them, sent a few pictures, told them I’m a big fan of the show, and about my work on TV. Never told them my age. They never got back to me.”
Now 31, pretence may be too much for a beginner. Still, he’s not easily perturbed.
“I’ve been thinking about drama a lot lately,” Eric reveals. “I told Laura that I’m going to go and start doing some drama classes.”
For good measure, he adds: “One thing that wouldn’t stop me would be the fear of doing it. I’d have a lot of confidence. Whether I’d be any good or not remains to be seen.”
Auditions never worried him. He won All Ireland titles for fun during amateur days. When the gloves came off, he had a way with words too.
“I think people are drawn to him, even though he doesn’t realise it,” says Laura. “When he met my family, I think my mother wanted us all to leave so she could talk to Eric.”
Although it ran smoothly, Eric’s first performance in front of the Cusacks did not pass without incident.
Copping that Liverpool were playing Man United, Laura had considered postponing the visit. Bad enough showcasing a new fella without letting slip a United fan had entered their den.
“I just told Eric to keep quiet,” Laura says. “Then when United scored, he went YES… and everyone just looked at him.”
Karma is a witch. The home fan held sway, when Eric and Laura pitched up at Anfield. It was her birthday. Naturally she wanted a present. Under protest, the United fan held a Liverpool scarf above his head. He posed for the picture. Eventually, he cracked a smile.
Madness? It must be love.
***
Daddy sits in the kitchen and holds Troy across his lap. They’re ready to play the human guitar. In his right hand, Eric holds an imaginary plectrum and strums Troy’s stomach with the tips of his fingers. Daddy hums a tune and Troy is tickled pink. This is their party piece.
"To Eric, being the bad guy is a small price to pay for quality time with his children"
Later, having left half his dinner on the table, Troy returns. He wants a bowl of cereal. Eric reminds his son about dinner. Compromising, he takes a yoghurt from the fridge. Bedtime is fast approaching for the boy in a Batman pyjama top but Troy is not here to negotiate. He’s cranky, face turning red. Daddy Cool has left the stage and there won’t be an encore.
To Eric, being the bad guy is a small price to pay for quality time with his children. He never knew what it was like to be Troy. His Mam and Dad split when he was six months old.
The council estate in Clonmullion, on the outskirts of Athy, became home for him and three older siblings. Mum Mena had to go it alone until she met Brian. Eric gained a step-dad, and in time, two step-sisters were added to the family mix.
Despite these struggles, Mena made best of it, working as a Carer at Clover Lodge Nursing Home. Time was rarely her own but one decision left no regret.
The eldest, Maggie, was born deaf. Because Mena sent her to St Mary’s School for the Deaf in Cabra, Mrs Owens is now one of the most respected members of the school’s teaching staff. Maggie, like Mena, would not let circumstance set constraints.
With a Masters Degree in Deaf Education, Maggie Owens is an inspiration in her own right.
Boxing kept the boys out of trouble but William, like Eric, strayed onto the wild side. In the ring, they were stylists. John Joe, the middle boy, was a brawler.
These days, JJ runs a successful plastering business while William works as a machine driver. Gayle and Paige, his step sisters, have joined Mena on the payroll at Clover Lodge.
Besotted by the sweet science, Eric found true calling in the gym. School was not for him. What he needed to know could not be found within a classroom.
Quick feet, fast hands: skills necessary to survive on a tough council estate. Eric Donovan was a ready-made boxer, walking in the door of St Michael’s BC. He just didn’t realise it.
Neither did Dom O’Rourke. All the coach could see was this seven year old swinging out of a heavy bag. It was an appropriate introduction. Donovan was forever finding ways to disrupt any natural order. In his childhood world, chaos was never Timbuktu.
Something suddenly is clear: “I always found solace in the gym.”
Boxing had everything Clonmullion did not. Routine, structure, discipline.
“I was the ultimate pro in the gym,” he says without fear of contradiction. At 13, he was a three time All Ireland champion. By 19, he was whipping the big boys too, winning the first of five Senior titles.
"I gave 100 per cent to my boxing life and I gave 100 per cent to my social life"
About his talent, there could be no doubts. Problem was, that much could only take him so far.
“I gave 100 per cent to my boxing life and I gave 100 per cent to my social life,” he reflects. “I was burning the candle at both ends. You can do that when you’ve a certain level of talent as a fighter but when you get older, and you get up to Olympic level, you get found out.”
Tuesday through Friday, Donovan was in the bubble of the High Performance Unit, Irish boxing’s elite squad. There he kept company with Kenny Egan and Katie Taylor, Paddy Barnes and John Joe Nevin, Carl Frampton and Darren Sutherland.
“I beat loads of lads who fought in the Olympics,” says Donovan. “And I’d be watching them in the Olympics and me sitting at home.”
"I don’t think I had the mental strength to make the sacrifices and be disciplined"
The closest he came to reaching the Games was the World Championships in Chicago, November 2007. Three minutes from eternity, Domenico Valentino beat him to a place in the quarter finals, a result that guaranteed the Italian his shot at the five ring circus.
Donovan knows he was better off at home that summer.
He flags up Frankie Gavin. Gavin beat Valentino to win the 60kg world title but he did not make it to Beijing either: he could not make the weight.
Donovan readily admits: “I’d forget to stop celebrating… That was the thing.”
Gavin’s problem came to the surface. Donovan’s wrinkle was not ready to let him be.
“I don’t think I had the mental strength to make the sacrifices and be disciplined,” he says. “My mind was always doing 90. I often won something with a few weeks’ training and I’d be like: ‘Imagine if I had done a couple of months?’
“I think I had a fear of reaching my potential.”
***
“Boxing”, he says, “is like a relationship.”
He draws the parallel: “You fall in love, fall out of love, fall out with the coach, fall in with the coach. There will come a day when I’ll never box again.”
A new reality has dawned for him.
“I’ve never seen where I could go with my talent, my ability and my drive. It’ll be a big regret if I don’t,” he concludes.
The wrinkle that fuelled excess during the height of his amateur career is not so palpable any more. Physically, the change cannot be detected.
In 2010, he won bronze at the European Championships in the lightweight (60kg) division. His pro fighting weight, as a super feather, is but one kilo lighter.
It is the dream that has changed.
“The attention is part of the attraction,” he says. “I do it for myself but it’s not really worth much to me if I’m winning it in front of an empty room. That’s not going to be special. It’s not going to live in your memory forever.”
Four years ago, Donovan took stock. He was ready to park the past but moving forward meant others were left behind. By breaking a long term relationship with the mother of Jack and Troy, he was creating cracks elsewhere, consequences he was previously unwilling to suffer.
In 2013, he was changing, from the inside out. A single man, he was flat out broke and living again with his mother in Clonmullion. You would never guess he had been to Timbuktu and back.
The year before, he was a household name in Kazakhstan. Fighting for the Astana Arlans at the World Series of Boxing, he helped his adopted team to victory. In the shops, local fans sought his autograph.
Around Almaty, they projected his 5’8 frame on billboards and hoardings. Donovan felt dwarfed.
Twelve months later, even boxing hunched in the back seat. At this fork, he took the road to Cuan Mhuire and began a Diploma in Counselling. No longer the recipient of grant aid from the Irish Sports Council, he ran fitness classes in the boxing club to pay for an education long overdue.
“It’s a very intense course,” he says. “The whole second year was like being in a constant state of stress.”
Group therapy sessions, which would run from 9.30am to 4pm, left him so drained the journey home could only be compared to a drunken stupor. Added to the load were 400 one hour sessions of counselling: “People are offloading heavy shit on to you. I had to go for my own personal counselling. For every eight hours I gave, I had to do two hours. It’s like a conveyer belt, you take it and you give it.”
"People say to me: ‘Why didn’t you turn professional years ago?’ I wasn’t ready. The perfect time is now"
His thesis examined the role fitness plays in addiction rehabilitation. It was an obvious choice. Less obvious was his aptitude for academic life.
“He didn’t even finish school and then he was getting all As,” says Laura. “I was like: ‘You were cut out for this.’ I thought it was very positive to be going back into education. If he was a boxer and he was finished and he didn’t know what he was doing, I’d be like: ‘I’ll leave you for a while and see how you get on.’”
The choice of study endeared him all the more: “I was impressed because it shows a caring side and an open side that a lot of lads wouldn’t have.”
Eric’s thoughts, turning back to boxing, take on a whole new emphasis.
“I’m loving the learning,” he declares.“People say to me: ‘Why didn’t you turn professional years ago?’ I wasn’t ready. The perfect time is now.
“I’m actually boxing better now than I’ve ever, ever done as an amateur. I’m thinking better, I’m more controlled, more relaxed. I’m a lot more intelligent in the ring, my weight is better. I’m in a good, good place. If anything is going to happen, it’s going to happen now.”
Donovan is quick to recognise an irony. So too is his coach.
“If he trained this hard when he was an amateur, he’d have been world champion,” says Dom O’Rourke, still working his corner all these years later.
There is, however hard to believe, a bigger story still to tell. Jack, Eric’s eldest, plays soccer with Castle Villa’s Under 12s. A year ago, he wanted to pack it in. Eric sensed the need for a heart to heart: “Listen to me, son: ‘Do you remember that lad that gave up?’”
“No.”
“I said: ‘Do you remember the guy who quit?’”
“And he goes: ‘No.’”
“I said: ‘Exactly. Nobody does.’”
Eric Donovan is an ambassador for I’m A Friend (IAF) an initiative designed to combat bullying and harassment in all areas of society. To find out more visit their website: imafriend.com
