In the middle of the last century the streets of Dublin were graced with the presence of a retired American boxer, Billy "Cyclone" Warren, who had settled in Ireland. Nothing exceptional there, you might think, and as an ex-middleweight he wouldn't have been expected to stand out in the capped and jacketed crowd - except that Cyclone was black.
He had finished a long career of exploitation in the ring with a series of bouts on the Continent, in Britain and in Ireland, and had decided to settle in Dublin. I talk of "exploitation" because Warren's career had begun like those of even some of the greatest black fighters, such as Jack Johnson and Beau Jack, contesting "battles royal", a phrase descended from the Roman tradition of gladiatorial combat. In post-emancipation America, this meant three or four black men being blindfolded, pushed into the ring together, and left to flail away at each other until one was left standing. During the bout, the white punters would exchange large sums of money.
Warren graduated from that barbarity to forge a long if not particularly noteworthy career within the ropes.
And his odd decision to call Dublin home? Well, that probably had much to do with a friendship he had forged in New York with a young Galway man he had faced in the first decade of the last century, Mike Farrell.
For the story of Farrell, I am indebted to the well-known Dublin writer Vincent Caprani, who wrote a series of articles about the Loughrea man for the Irish Independent in 1961, not long before Farrell's death.
During his extraordinary career, Farrell had over 380 recorded fights and was never counted out. In his heyday, when he was fighting two, three and even four times a week, he traded punches with the best, including three world champions: Al McCoy, Mike McTigue and Gene Tunney.
Though born and reared in Loughrea, Farrell had spent his youth as an apprentice jockey at the Parkinson stable at the Curragh. But a combination of weight problems, wanderlust and a riding injury that left him blind in one eye led to his decision to strike out for the States in 1907.
He landed in New York and was immediately befriended by the other young Irish pugilists of the New Westside Club. He was already in his 20s, a rather advanced age to take to the ring seriously - and remember that he was, as Peter Cook might have put it, deficient in the eye department to the tune of one.
He was also further handicapped by his lack of size: he was just over 5ft 4in, and never weighed more than 10st 11lb, which is about welterweight; but he spent most of his career fighting not just fully-fledged middleweights, but many men bordering on light-heavyweight.
After a brief but successful amateur career, including 50 wins, Farrell entered the paid ranks. One of his earliest professional bouts was with the Cyclone Warren. It was a brutal contest, which finished with Farrell knocking his bigger opponent right through the ropes and on to the floor. Of his future friend, Warren later remarked: "That man am mad."
Farrell also fought a young Gene Tunney. As Caprani wrote: "It was by no means the most outstanding of Mike's 386 fights, and I mention it here mainly because of the calibre of his opponent. Tunney displayed many of the tactics which were to capture for him the coveted heavyweight crown from the immortal Jack Dempsey 10 years later. He used his reach to great advantage and his superior boxing from long range was extremely effective against a stocky, aggressive battler, who came into him anxious to connect with heavy punching.
"For 10 rounds the Fighting Marine did the old bicycle act and back-pedalled out of danger. In the closing stages he was only an indistinct blur to the game but half-blind Farrell, yet the Irishman never let up in his attacking for an instant. He kept after the elusive Tunney and often got in close enough to do considerable damage, but the defect in his visibility robbed many of his punches of their accuracy." The italics in that wonderfully understated last phrase are mine. It's a powerful if sad image.
Eventually Farrell lost the sight in his good eye. He returned to Ireland and finished his days in the home for the blind in Drumcondra. Occasionally he and Warren would meet for a pint.
Farrell's remarkable story was rediscovered only recently as Loughrea Boxing Club began to prepare for its 50th anniversary. Club stalwarts Eamon McNally and Stephen Shields were vaguely aware of Farrell, but struggled to find out much about the man until, in a moment of spooky coincidence, Caprani, unaware of their work, independently forwarded his articles to the club.
Now, as part of the club's golden jubilee celebrations, the Polish senior boxing team will be taking on an Irish selection in the Temperance Hall, Loughrea, on Sunday, October 15th. This will be the first time a Polish senior team has boxed outside Dublin and, given the number of Poles now living here, the visitors shouldn't lack support. And one of Loughrea's, and Ireland's, unsung sporting heroes will at last get his due recognition.
For more information, and to read Vincent Caprani's wonderful reports in full, visit loughreaboxingclub.com.