What if one childhood victory had changed everything? That’s the question Houdi McCabe can’t shake as he reflects on his life intertwined with that of Finbar Patrick McGuigan, the future boxing legend Barry McGuigan. It could have been me, Houdi thinks, recalling the day he bested the future world champion in a sack race at St. Tiarnach’s Park in their hometown of Clones, Co. Monaghan. But life, as it often does, took them on very different paths.
Houdi and Barry grew up in the same schools, both fiercely competitive, both driven to win. Yet, their circumstances couldn’t have been more different. While Barry’s family thrived—his mother ran a successful grocery store, and his father was a celebrated singer who represented Ireland in the Eurovision Song Contest—Houdi’s family struggled. At just nine years old, Houdi lost his father, leaving his mother to raise five children on a widow’s pension. The McGuigans had everything; the McCabes had nothing, at least in the eyes of a young boy.
Barry’s boxing career took off early, with his father’s unwavering support. By 14, he was the All-Ireland Boxing Champion, his name splashed across The Northern Standard. But Houdi couldn’t forget that he’d once beaten him. And this is the part most people miss: Houdi secretly crowned himself the true champion, believing he’d proven himself superior in that long-ago sack race.
At school, Barry’s dedication was unmistakable. He’d obsessively strengthen his hands with a spring-loaded metal device, avoiding physical education to prevent injuries. But here’s where it gets controversial: while some kids thought Barry had become too big for his britches, Houdi knew the truth—Barry remained humble, his focus solely on winning. While Houdi and his friends enjoyed the local nightlife, Barry was sprinting through town in a bin liner or training tirelessly in the gym behind his mother’s shop.
Barry’s rise to fame was meteoric. He won gold at the 1978 Commonwealth Games, defeated opponents in the Olympics, and eventually became the WBA World Boxing Champion in 1985. Houdi followed his career closely, always thinking, ‘That could have been me.’ He even joked about their reversed roles: ‘He should be the grocer. I should be the champion.’
Houdi’s life took a different turn. He moved to Dublin to train as a retail manager, while Barry conquered the boxing world. Yet, Houdi couldn’t shake the feeling of what might have been. He attended Barry’s fights, regaling anyone who’d listen with tales of their childhood sack race. Is it envy, pride, or something else entirely? Houdi’s story blurs the lines between admiration and resentment, leaving us to wonder: What if?
Decades later, at an arts festival in Clones, Houdi finally confronted Barry. ‘Do you remember when I defeated you all those years ago?’ Barry’s blank stare was a gut punch. He didn’t even recognize Houdi. But the real revenge came when Houdi introduced his daughter, who innocently declared, ‘He’s the man who makes the mash on TV.’ Barry’s stunned reaction was priceless, a moment Houdi savored.
Today, Houdi McCabe is a retired branch manager turned writer and actor, a legend in his own mind. But the question remains: What if that sack race had been the start of something greater? Houdi’s story is a poignant reminder of the paths we take—and the ones we leave behind. What do you think? Could Houdi have been a champion, or is this just a case of ‘what if’ gone too far? Let’s discuss in the comments!
