By: Tony Saleni

The Final Bell: A Farewell to Weedon Boxing Academy

After twenty-five years of scraped knuckles, bloodied noses, and the peculiar poetry of controlled violence, Weedon Boxing Academy will close its doors for the last time on May 31st, 2025.

What began as a modest endeavour to teach the art of boxing became something far more significant—a community built on discipline, resilience, and the unvarnished reality of hard work. For its head coach, the decision to close the gym is both a necessary and a bittersweet one. 

To most, it will simply be another shuttered gym—just one more set of keys hung up for good. But to those who trained there, who found strength and identity within its scuffed walls, this is the end of something irreplaceable. 

The head coach Aaron Hill remains deeply grateful to all those who walked this path alongside him—too many to name, yet each a vital part of what made this place matter. 

His wife, Tammy, has been his quiet, steadfast ally—the one whose patience and understanding outlasted the relentless hours of training and sacrifice. His children—Chloe, Bailey, Rocky, Ruby, and Charlie—grew up learning that their father’s passion often demanded his absence, a trade-off that any amount of gratitude may struggle to balance. Their sacrifices are an unspoken but indelible part of the Academy’s story. 

Alongside the coach, for over two decades, stood Darren—a partner not merely in coaching but in the complex, often thankless task of shaping young people into disciplined, confident adults. Together, they saw potential where others saw problems, coaxed self-belief from self-doubt, and helped fighters find strength in their own vulnerability. It is a role that demands much and returns little, save the knowledge that, on occasion, they managed to change lives. 

On June 7th, 2025, at Weedon Village Hall from 7 p.m., there will be a farewell—a gathering for all who ever stepped into the Academy’s ring, who left a part of themselves on its worn canvas. Those who learned to stand their ground, who endured grueling rounds both in and out of the ring, are invited to share memories, shake hands, and mark the closing of this chapter. 

The bags will hang untouched, the ring will stand idle, and the echoes of sparring and instruction will fade. Yet for all its plainness—concrete, leather, iron—this space shaped far more than muscle and skill; it shaped character. The gym may fall silent, but the lessons it taught, the confidence it instilled, and the bonds it forged will persist long after the last light is switched off.