Bobby ‘Sherbo’ McDermott runs a boxing club on Monday nights at Whiteinch Centre. He’s lived in Whiteinch since 2002. He is currently taking an NC in Social Care at Whitench Centre, run by Anniesland College. Bobby tells us about the battles that’ve made him who he is today.

‘I was a young boy when I started boxing with the Dennistoun club. I went on to become Senior Scottish Champion. I fought for titles in the ABA finals in Manchester. I travelled the world fighting for Scotland – maybe a couple of hundred amateur fights. It was total dedication, I was going places. My maw used to fix all my gear for me, get it ready for the next day. On my nineteenth birthday I got the Ken Buchanan award. He was a world champion, not at that time, but in the past he was a great fighter.

Then I started using drugs. I felt as if I’d already done most things in my life. That total dedication with the boxing, it messed my heid right up. It sickened me. I thought, This is far too much for me. The boys were drinking, taking drugs, seeing women. I thought, They’re doing it, I’m gonna do it. It was an escape route.

It broke my maw’s heart. She died not longer after that – it was me that found her. That’s what made me be a real bad bastard. For twenty years I hated the world. Addictions, jails, hospitals. Loads of violence outside the ring. Prison was the only good thing because I did all these SVQs.

When I was twenty-four, I got offered money to come back. They didn’t know I was still using. I’d work round it. Another five years’ fighting I had, twenty-eight fights as a professional. At least ten world championships. I was a journeyman. It didn’t bother me who I fought. All I thought was, Much? They sent me over to McGuigan’s camp. I was sparring with him every day. I fought under the world champ bill, McGuigan v Eusebio Pedroza, in 1985 at Loftus Road. I’ve never been knocked out. I’ve fought some of our country’s best, you know?

But I was into crime, getting jails, involved in street wars. Heavy stuff. I never achieved total abstinence. I learned that later. I had to. It started with going home one day and the house was boarded up. My wife had bolted. She’d had enough. She always wanted to go back home to Liverpool. So I was running about the streets for a while. The Council hostels wouldny take me. I wouldn’t do as I was told. I hated the system. That’s why Hope House was my only option. It took me a couple of month of using on the Clydeside there, all black eyes, big lumps in my heid, thinking, This is end of the world stuff. I would’ve wiped the floor with them a couple of year ago – what’s gon on?

I asked the other residents how long they’d been there and they were saying, Fifteen year, ten year, seven year. I thought, No way! This is just another jail. So I saw the housing officer and asked him, How do I do it? He says, Best thing is do something wi yourself. I’d seen a poster for NA. I thought, They help addicts and there’s nay bosses! I couldny believe it! I went to every group, all over. All different members. I thought, I’m really part of something that’s a movement.

I was rough but I wasny strung out like I needed to run away and use. My boxing taught me how to follow a regime. I’ve got that power in me. If I want to. I went through the twelve step programme. You have to take a right good look at yourself. Because I know what my defects of character are – that’s what they call them - I can see where things’ll lead. Anger, self-pity – something can happen and it’s like a doomsday scenario.

What I say to people struggling now is, No matter what, don’t use. Hang in. Go to your bed. For me, the power of example is dead strong. That’s where my higher power is. I’ve had to make amends with the wreckage of my past.

I’ve come here so I’m as far away from Possilpark as possible. I keep clean company. That’s what you need to do. If I hang about a pub long enough I’ll say, Hey gie me one of those! I know what I’m like. At times I’ve repeated the same mistakes expecting different results and I’ve had to pull myself back again.

I got my place here in 2002. That’s when my son came back to stay with me so I’m a single parent now. It’s a responsibility I’ve had to fight for.

The boxing club’s amazing. We’ve been running it for about nine months. It’s mixed – boys and lassies, from five to thirty year old. Last week we had over forty people there. We start off with rounds of skipping. Then a routine of exercises. Then we do padwork with four trainers. We teach them techniques, let them get into controlled aggression, forcing them to work. I say, You’re no here to fight, you’re here to box. Fighting’s a mess – all elbows and arms and heids. It’s trying to get them to box, keep your hands up, rather than the square go stuff.

What we need now is more facilities – bags, punchballs, a portable ring. That’s what we need next.’

Sammy Mitchell is a local artist and mum living in Whiteinch. She’s been teaching arts and crafts during the summer programme. We asked Sammy to tell us a bit about herself:

‘I was born in Partick then I moved with my Ma and sister to Drumchapel. We came back to Whiteinch when I was seven. I was an absolute horror when I was young. I put my mum through hell. I don’t know why but I always felt I wasny good enough. I constantly had a chip on my shoulder. My ma used to say, It’s not so much a chip as a bag of totties. My mammy always praised me but everything would go wrong for me. See if we got walky talkies for Christmas, my sister’s would work and mine wouldny. I had the bad luck. The only thing I did well was drawing. I always did that. It was the only thing I was good at.

I was a single parent for years. Then when the youngest started nursery, they said, Why don’t you go and do something? As soon as they said college, I thought, Aye. So I went to Anniesland College at the Balshagray campus, to do an NC in sculpture. By that time my stepdad was ill with cancer. When I finished my NC I’d a show on and I wanted him to see it. I wanted them to see it, him and my Ma.

He walked it from Whiteinch to Thornwood to see my show, even though he had lung cancer. He was dead proud of me. That’s when I realised what I was worth. They said, We’ve always been proud of you, but it was then I felt it myself. I carried on to do the HNC and the HND. For me to get a pass on anything because I had to do the paperwork as well was something, you know. No matter how much you struggle you can do it. If I can do it, anyone can do it.

I don’t so much think about what the future holds for me. I want to do something for kids for the future. I’m going back to college to work voluntary with special needs students. I think now, when I help someone else, that’s me paying off for being so terrible as a kid. It meant a lot for my mammy to say I’m proud of you. And my dad as well.

The kids make art through their graffiti. I wish they could have something they could be proud of. See if kids get the chance to draw and paint, they’re proud of it. Cos I think a lot have got chips on their shoulder same as me. I’d like to see adults getting involved with them more, not being scared to do stuff together … that’s what you’d like to see.’

61 local children attended Sammy’s class over the summer. The Summer programme was funded thanks to Partick and Garscadden Area Committees at Glasgow City Council.