My father, Aloysius “Wishie” Harrietha, was a professional street fighter.
He was an angry man from the God-forsaken coal mines of rural Nova Scotia who loved to fight. He had a true gift for it, which made him a fierce combatant in makeshift cages, empty warehouses, and seedy alleys throughout post-war Toronto. Think Brad Pitt in Fight Club.
A few inches short of 6 feet and 170 pounds soaking wet, Wishie welcomed all comers, regardless of their height and weight — and he made a pretty good living battering unsuspecting heavyweights until his reputation caught up with him.
My father fully expected me to follow in his fistic footsteps. He shouldn’t have! From a very early age, I revealed a serious aversion to getting punched in the face — or punching other people, for that matter. Wishie called it weakness.
What I did develop, at my father’s urging, was a purely voyeuristic appreciation for championship boxing and the exploits of legends like Muhammed Ali, Sugar Ray Leonard, Lennox Lewis, and countless others. They floated like butterflies and stung like bees.
Beyond the compelling brutality of the sport, I was intrigued by the numerology of the fight game. Like 12 months in a year or 12 hours on a clock face, the 12 rounds of a championship boxing match formed a perfect cycle: beginning, middle and end (and, presumably, renewal).
Exploring this cycle motif further, I thought it would be interesting to reimagine the conventional boxing biography by twinning the ebbs and flows of an actual 12-round fight with 12 corresponding vignettes – highs and lows – from the boxer’s personal experience. Fight as metaphor for life.
The structure was fully baked. All I needed now was a champion boxer with a compelling story to share.
It took 20 years for the Fates to intervene, but they sure got it right when they did. I met Barrington “Tiga” Francis by chance while he was working as the lead cook at our company cafeteria. He was a small, quiet man with an engaging smile and an obvious passion for his craft — and, as I would soon learn, a remarkable tale to tell.
Barrington and I would regularly share pleasantries and small talk while he prepared and served the day’s food selections. During some friendly banter one afternoon, he revealed, almost sheepishly, that he was a former world boxing champion who pursued his passion for cooking after he retired from the ring.
Once I explained my book idea to Barrington, he eagerly agreed to share his inspirational story of crushing poverty, violence, abandonment, abuse and, ultimately, triumph.
As “the best kept secret” in Canadian boxing, Barrington was anxious to gain the recognition that he so rightly deserved as one of the country’s most decorated professional fighters. I was anxious to write Barrington “Tiga” Francis back into existence.
It took another 20 years of planning, talking, bonding, and drafting to get Tiga's Tale done — but it was well worth the effort. In the kind words of Canadian boxing legend Russ Anber, “poignant, honest, emotional, and thoroughly detailed, Tiga’s Tale is a scintillating knockout!”
Heck, I think that even Wishie would have approved (in his own angry way).
Paul Harrietha is a former board chair, CEO, and academic. He is the co-author of The Invisible Rules: What's Really Holding Women Back in Business — and How to Fix It. Paul lives in Toronto. Learn more here.