"Mean" Margaret Sidoroff-Canty

September 20, 2000

She’s the Queen of Drouillard Road - by Marty Gervais

            A small boy with the hood up over his head walks hesitantly into her office.

            “Hey, how ya doin’?”

            “Not bad,” the boy mumbles sheepishly.

            Another boy standing behind him says, “Another fight and he’s going to juvenile!”

            To this, Margaret Sidoroff—fire in her eyes—leans forward in her chair, and says, “What did I tell you?”

            The boy mumbles.

            “What did I tell you about this?”

            And scolds him for fighting.

            An odd thing, you might think, when the woman who’s saying this holds three world boxing titles.

            This is her gym. Border City Boxing. These are her kids. The kids from the street. The ones who showed up one day in June after she bought the place with Josh Canty, her trainer. Kids who were hanging about outside. Nothing to do on a hot June day. And so she said, “C’mon inside.”

            Once inside, Sidoroff laid down the rules: No swearing, no fighting with each other and you had better not get into any trouble on the streets, otherwise you’re out of here. And no second chances.

            And it’s free.

            There’s a method to Sidoroff’s madness. She’s a counselor at New Beginnings, and enclave for young offenders.

            “I don’t want them to end up there!”

            To that end, she’s yanked these kids off the street, put them to work in the gym, and there they skip rope, work the bag, shadow box, whatever she asks.

            And when they get home, says Sidoroff, they’re “too worn out” to do anything else other than collapsing on the couch and watching television.

            Now that school’s back, she’s telling kids they can’t use the gym unless they’ve got their homework done.

            There are 23 kids.

            “They can’t afford to pay me anything—I just take them in, an hour before everybody else, and I teach them a few things.”

            Sidoroff shrugs. There’s no money in it and that may be bad business. But it’s what she’s all about. Her heart goes out to them. Like the little boy in the hooded sweatshirt. His father is a crackhead. His mother, just out of jail.

            “I teach these kids to respect each other. I teach them how to defend themselves without ever hitting anybody.

            And this little guy—the most polite little kid—I feel so sorry for him.

            “He’s always getting picked on because of his size. I tell him, ‘You know you’re a good kid. Always polite. Always good here … But just keep your hands to yourself. Look, you can outrun anybody in this place and if someone throws a punch at you … sprint! Run!’”

            Sidoroff knows all about this. Knows all about size. Five-foot-one, 110 pounds. Yet tough as nails. Enough that few fighters in the world want to do battle with her.

            But Sidoroff can talk her way through troubles. “I’ve always had a good sense of humour, I guess, and can talk my way out of anything.”

Instills confidence

            It might be this she’ll teach these kids—to do some talking, to lose the hard luck attitude, to find something to laugh about, and learn to walk away with pride, with confidence.

            For Sidoroff, that’s a battle she isn’t willing to run from. It’s on her turf, the boxing club. Here where the ring behind her looms like a dream with the glare of sun through the windows.

            Here where all around her are kids—some as young as 9 and 10—working the heavy bag, shadow boxing, skipping. They cry out to her from across the club—they seek approval.

            “What do I do now?” one little guy yells.

            “Hit the speed bag!” she shouts back.

            A trace of a smile breaks on her face. You can tell she loves these kids. She sees in them hope. She sees a future in their lives.

            She sees the boxing ring, the environment teaching them discipline, self-control, hard work. It’s worked for her. Two university degrees. A job as a counselor. Three boxing titles. Hard work. Dedication. A love of life.

            The 27-year-old fighter has landed on her feet here. She’s the Queen of Drouillard.

            Toughest girl on the street. One with a big heart. Eager to please. Eager to change lives.