The Preacher With Steel Hands Poem by David Welch

Ray Richardson was known as a fighter,
and a big hit amongst the boxing fans,
though few of them ever called him by name,
his sobriquet in the ring was ‘Steel Hands, '
like Forman, Wilder, he had power,
his fights rarely lasted a quarter hour.

Now Steel Hands Richardson held a title,
which brought him big money, and big challenge,
he'd knocked down six men who tried to take it,
and believed he could handle the balance,
the next man in the ring was ‘Bandit' McGill,
a slippery boxer, trained to great skill.

Steel Hands was not that concerned with his foe
when he stepped through the ropes into the ring,
he figured it would be an easy bout,
the flag was waved, the singer did their thing.
Finally, they rang the opening bell,
and Steel Hands came out to give the man hell.

But the speed of his foe stymied his blows,
oh, how McGill could duck shots, bob and weave,
then slip away quick with fancy footwork,
how the man moved Ray just couldn't believe,
his hard punches would hit nothing but air,
then two jabs would come back as he stood there.

His corner shouted he was losing rounds,
before he knew it six had slipped away,
to loose the title to such a fighter…
the more thought of it filled Steel Hands with rage,
to think that another could be the best
was not something to which he'd ever attest!

When he got back up for the seventh round,
he noticed McGill was starting to tire,
but even worn out, his jabs kept coming,
not that hard, but scored points rapid fire,
but Ray would not accept tossing the thing,
and used his long legs to cut off the ring.

In the ninth round he saw his opening,
cornered McGill, landed a body shot,
with his man stunned, Steel Hands threw a hard right,
putting all his strength in a blow up top,
it dropped the bandit, right flush with his jaw,
he would not get back up, everyone saw.

Steel Hands leapt to the ropes to celebrate,
what a dramatic comeback victory!
cried out his joy while pumping his fists,
right there for the whole audience to see,
but his joy vanished hen he turned on back,
McGill still lay there, by tremors was wracked.

The ring doctor was crouched over his form,
and called frantically for medical help,
another man began to do C.P.R.,
was McGill dead? Still hands just couldn't tell.
but all thoughts of ego and titles died,
nothing but horror remains in his eyes.

Were money and belts worth what he had done,
even though it wasn't his attention?
To win a sport he'd put a man near the grave,
so that his name by most folk would be mentioned,
he'd hurt a man seeking fortune and fame,
that would be how folks remembered his name…

He did not hear them announce he had won,
to the hospital Ray Richardson went,
he learned that McGill was barely alive,
and to the ICU he'd been sent,
Ray saw the man's wife as she loudly bawled,
didn't feel much like a champion at all.

It had been so long since Steel Hands had felt
a true and compelling reason to pray,
but in that hospital he called out to God,
asked him not to let McGill die this day,
but he was brain dead, despite Steel Hand's prayer,
trapped deep n a coma, he would stay there.

Richardson wailed when he heard the grim news,
never imagined such an end to a fight,
didn't care for the money any longer,
only cared about how to make this right,
the media crowed, if it bleeds it leads,
voracious scavengers, looking to feed…

Though he didn't think much on the uproar,
Ray was brooding, feeling that he had failed,
he was known in life for doing something
That outside the ring would land you in jail,
he decided something right then and there,
and gave his whole fortune for McGill's care.

The media was stunned by this action,
and even more so when he retired,
he said he could not hit a man again
after what he had just seen transpire,
that making money of televised strife
couldn't justify the taking of life.

Most figured this just was his guilt talking,
the sportscasters all said, "He will be back."
But Ray had never before been so certain,
and set his life upon a brand new track,
the killer puncher no more would folks see,
he enrolled himself in a seminary!

Ray figured if he had hurt people before,
the best path for him now would be to serve,
so the former C-student buckled on down,
and spent long evening studying The Word,
if God could forgive him for his harsh act,
then he could help others embrace this fact.

He started assisting in Tennessee,
in two years received a church of his own,
at first folks came for the curiosity,
then the strength of his sermons became known,
he listed to problems, striving to take heed
of his congregation's issues and needs.

Now Ray had not joined with the Catholic flock,
so wasn't opposed to taking a wife,
he married and settled in that small town,
and learned to life sublime pleasures in life,
now free of the weight of celebrity,
he had to admit he felt much more happy.

But he kept in mind all that had gone before,
and went to see McGill once every year,
prayed by the man he had doomed to silence,
the staff always saw Steel Hands shed a tear,
moved by how it left him broken and raw,
but then one went and told the press what they saw..

They had mostly forgotten about Ray
within a few months of the McGill fight,
but one now felt that he had a story,
and showed up at Ray's small chapel one night,
his presence Ray felt obliged to allow,
the man said he was doing, "Where Are They Now? "

Ray had pushed himself to become a kind man,
so he agreed to a few quick questions,
but the reported treated the sit-down
almost as if it were an intervention,
said, "People know you feel your guilt is earned,
but the world is asking, when will you return? "

"I'm not ‘Steel Hands' anymore, "Ray informed,
"I'm more concerned about helping lost souls."
But the reported didn't seem to care,
said, "But what do you think when you are told
that ‘Stinger' James has declared you a wimp,
you were the champ, what do you say to him? "

Ray shook his head, straightened up in his chair,
said, "I don't care about that anymore."
The reporter said, "Does that really matter?
To the world you're still the fighter who floored
any opponent with a single, hard blow,
that's all that most people ever will know."

Ray sent the man away after those words,
his temper had him too angry to speak,
he paced the church aisle for an hour,
nearly wore holes in the floor with his feet.
In his mind he heard some dark, haunting words,
was ‘Steel Hands' all people would remember?

When he sat with John Lott as the man died,
would that mean nothing to the teaming throng?
Did it mean nothing when he helped Jan Smith
understand why infidelity was wrong?
Was his drive to do better just wasted time?
Then a calming breath pushed through his mind.

His prayers had meant more the John's family
then the drunk cheers of a stadium crowd,
and seeing Jan marry meant more to him
then a whole entourage braying out loud.
What matter was it if the just saw ‘Steel Hands, '
God would know he chose to be a good man.

The thought made the doubts slowly clear away,
once again he felt certain of his path,
besides, his Moira was cooking up steaks,
and only a fool would dare to miss that.
Let those chumps worry of wars in the ring,
the work he'd chosen was a far greater thing.