“When the time came to say goodbye, I told Pat I loved him and I appreciated him,” Patrick Aristhene says as he remembers the moment before the machines were switched off and his best friend, the boxer Patrick Day, slipped away into death. Four days earlier, on 12 October 2019, Day had been knocked out in the last round of his 22nd professional fight, against Charles Conwell, in Chicago. He fell into a coma and the doctors soon knew they could not save him.

On a beautiful late December afternoon in Rockville Centre, near New York, with a low winter sun as gentle as the subject of our interview is hard, Aristhene recalls his final words in hospital. “I told Pat, ‘Hold it down that side and watch over everybody. I’ll hold it down this side till I see you again.’ I believe I’ll see Pat again. I believe the human spirit is powerful and, when we die, it goes on a journey. The Egyptians said it: ‘Death is only the beginning.’”

Many fighters have died in the ring, and there have been five boxing fatalities this year, but the death of 27-year-old Patrick Day resonates. He was not impoverished or desperate. Boxing, far from being his only hope, was his choice out of many options. His father was a doctor and his mother an editorial assistant at the UN. Day was college educated and his intelligence was matched by his eloquence, charm and dedication to boxing as a super‑welterweight (154lb) who had been ranked in the world’s top 10 by the IBF and WBC.

“Pat didn’t waste a moment of his life,” says Aristhene, a former Golden Gloves champion, “and he did everything with good intentions. We lived on the same block in Freeport [Long Island, New York] our whole lives and, as a kid, I could run to his house in seven seconds. Our parents are from Haiti and they put us together as babies. He was born in August 1992 and I was born that October. We both majored in food and nutrition and bounced most decisions off each other.

“Patrick was pure-hearted. He would ask me to take a second look at people I didn’t trust. Patrick would say: ‘Look at their heart.’ He encouraged me to give them another chance. There were times I’d say: ‘Pat, this guy is taking advantage of you,’ and he’d agree. I was the realist, he was the optimist. We balanced each other. Our last messages are right here.”

Aristhene opens his phone. “Here we go. Saturday October 12.”

We read the stream of messages that fateful day as they texted each other from Freeport and Chicago. After Aristhene wished him good luck against Conwell, Day wrote these words to his oldest friend: “Appreciate you and love you, my brother. Tonight I’m going to do my thang out there.”

Aristhene responded: “Love you man. I’m excited for the world to see what you got.”

He still felt a secret foreboding. “I was anxious because I had a dream the night before that somebody was going to get hurt bad. In the dream I was in Chicago at the fight. I’m trying to get through the crowd, saying: ‘Who won?’ A voice tells me: ‘Someone got knocked out bad.’ In the dream I couldn’t tell who it was. So on the night of the fight I had such pain in my stomach. I didn’t care who won. I just wanted Pat to be safe.”

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Patrick Aristhene in The Freeport Police Athletic League gym on Long Island. He was the best friend of Patrick Day. Photograph: Joshua Bright/The Guardian

The two Patricks fell for boxing as teenagers. The Days lived across the street from Joe Higgins, a former marine and firefighter who ran the local boxing gym. Higgins kept his garage doors open so the boys could see a heavy bag dangling from the rafters. He knew they would be curious and sure enough, when he was a skinny 14-year-old, Day crossed Buchanan Street and began hitting the bag. Higgins chided him – but only because he was slapping rather than punching. It was not long before Day and Aristhene joined Higgins at his Freeport PAL gym. The trainer promised Day’s mother, Lyssa, her son would learn many good habits through boxing.

Lyssa disliked boxing, but she knew Higgins was a good man. He was respected throughout Freeport. Apart from the hope he spread through boxing, he and his brother Tim had been among the first firemen who went into the burning Twin Towers on 9/11. Tim died, after saving many lives. Joe survived – but he carries the darkness of that terrible day in hidden corners of his mind.

Aristhene smiles when I ask if he and Day were intimidated by Higgins. “Coach Joe is only intimidating in the sense of discipline. When he was around, you didn’t say a curse word. You minded your p’s and q’s. To have him in the neighbourhood was good.”

Did he and Day realise Higgins was haunted by 9/11? “Pat and me would get a lift to the gym with Coach Joe. During those car rides, we began to understand the demons he’s still battling with. But it was only when Pat and I became men that we understood the trauma.”

Aristhene and Day revered Seanie Monaghan – a professional fighter from Long Island who was 11 years older than them. Monaghan was Higgins’s star boxer. He came to boxing late but reeled off 28 successive wins in front of a vociferous following. The light-heavyweight retired last April with a 29‑3 record and his reputation as New York’s most popular fighter intact. “Seanie’s our big brother,” Aristhene says. “Pat loved going to the Long Beach boardwalk where you felt Seanie’s clout. If we told anyone there we boxed with Sean Monaghan they’d say: ‘Whatever you want is free.’ At clubs you just had to say Seanie’s name and you were in. Sean was a hero – and our friend.”

Monaghan, who is now 38, picks me up from Freeport station on a cold afternoon. His warmth fills the car and, despite his grief for Day, Monaghan makes our meeting feel natural. He only pauses when holding the keys to Higgins’s gym – a small blue brick building in the middle of a Freeport park. “I’ve not been inside since we lost Pat,” he says. “Coach Joe closed it for a few weeks and I’ve not been able to face coming back.”

Old posters, featuring some of Monaghan’s greatest nights in the ring and Day’s past fights, line the walls. The blue ring is empty. But, rather than being an ominous symbol of the place where Day lost his life, it feels like home. We sit on the ring apron as Monaghan remembers his friend.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Day (left) and Charles Conwell slug it out in the fourth round of their super-welterweight bout at Wintrust Arena in Chicago. The fight ended in the 10th. Photograph: Dylan Buell/Getty Images

“Patrick walked in here around 2005,” he says. “I was 25 and he was this skinny kid. He always had a smile, very humble, a really pleasant kid. When Patrick first came to the track where Coach Joe made us run, I lapped him. Then, when he got older, I couldn’t keep up with him. He was smoking that track. Patrick fought at 154 to 160 [lb] and I was 175, but we sparred a lot. He was tough. I sparred beasts like Artur Beterbiev [the world’s most ferocious light-heavyweight] but Patrick was so competitive. He always tried to get me and he was fast.

“In the summer we opened the steel doors and people watched me and Patrick put on some shows. I sparred more with Patrick than anyone else. We ran the track together, did our gym work together, did everything together. He was a wonderful person who had such heart.”

Aristhene says something similar. “Pat had more determination than anyone I’ve met. He wasn’t good at sports like basketball. But his determination made him good at defence. He was so tenacious he always found a way to do well. At school his nickname was ‘Straight A Day’. He got straight A’s in everything. He wrote that nickname on his headgear and shoes.

“Pat was the golden child but I’d get into fights at school. I’d get suspended. Pat said: ‘You should think about boxing.’ But he lost his first three amateur fights. I’ll never forget we were in his kitchen making pancakes. He said: ‘Man, if I lose the next fight, I’m done.’ But he won, and won again. When Pat won the Golden Gloves I was like: ‘I got to get mine.’ How many Golden Gloves champions live on the same block like Pat and me? That’s testament to Coach Joe.”

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Coach Joe Higgins (left) and the former light-heavyweight Seanie Monaghan, both close acquaintances of Day. Photograph: Joshua Bright/The Guardian

Our reflections are interrupted by the arrival of Higgins. A strapping man, with a cap covering his bald head, he sounds exactly like a tough New York firefighter. But, as the man who introduced Patrick to boxing and worked the corner in every one of his amateur and professional fights, Higgins is grieving. He explains how, after he reopened the gym last month, he could not bear the thought of it being associated with boxing. Higgins resolved to turn it into a fitness centre. But, as the weeks pass and young men ask him to help them box, and even fight in next year’s Golden Gloves, Higgins has felt torn. He knows Patrick would want him to continue, and he reiterates how dark the park seemed when the gym was closed, but he still lives across the street from the Day family. It breaks his heart every time he sees Pat’s mother, knowing how much she hated boxing. How can he go on?

Did boxing help him to deal with the torment of 9/11? “There’s no doubt,” Higgins says. “I was diagnosed with everything. But I was a high-profile fire guy, a marine. You don’t admit that stuff. I know it’s stupid and today I counsel people – ‘Go get help.’ But going for help made me feel worse. Coming here every day is what helped me. The gym is a family but I’m closest to Sean and Patrick. Sean came here a few months after 9/11 when I was still dazed. Remember, Seanie?”

Monaghan nods. “You were in and out for a while …”

“I wasn’t always here,” Higgins agrees, “but Seanie kept showing up. I could tell he was serious about boxing and that helped me.”

Higgins smiles. “Then Patrick showed up. Seanie had such a positive impact on Pat because he is really kind. They sparred a thousand rounds together over the years. Patrick changed me too because I felt he would look at me differently if I got too angry and cursed. So I don’t curse no more. Seanie and Patrick were raised right, and they gave me a healing force with boxing.”

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Photos of Seanie Monaghan and Day at the Freeport Police Athletic League gym. Photograph: Joshua Bright/The Guardian

Patrick did not need to be healed. He was happy and full of light and hope. “Pat had no intention of going pro,” Aristhene remembers. “But the longer he stayed in the game, and kept winning, the competitor in him said: ‘I need to face the best in the world.’”

Did Patrick love boxing because it’s the ultimate test physically, emotionally and psychologically? “Exactly. That fact drew him in. In other sports you can shove the responsibility on to a team mate. But, with boxing, it’s all on you. You need discipline. You can’t be with your lady friends the way you want. You can’t eat the food you want. Early to bed. Wake up at dawn to run. That discipline is addictive.”

I travel across Long Island to interview Lou DiBella, Day’s promoter, at home in Sea Cliff. DiBella, a Harvard Law School graduate, has been in boxing for over 30 years – but Day’s death shook him. Ten weeks since the tragic fight between two boxers he promoted, he still looks stricken. “I met Pat at the Golden Gloves,” DiBella recalls. “It was impossible not to notice him. He was a good-looking, eloquent kid with a big smile. Patrick was not your usual prize fighter. He didn’t have to do this.”

From his pro debut in New York on 23 January 2013, Day won nine and drew one of his first 10 fights. Then, in January 2015, he faced Alantez Fox who was unbeaten in 14. Fox won a majority decision. “In my contracts, if a fighter loses, I can release him,” DiBella reveals. “It sounds cold, but it’s for the fighter’s good. Boxing is unforgiving and you can go from being a prospect to an opponent very quickly. People are hitting you in the head so it’s not healthy.

“Fox was world-class but that fight could have gone either way. So I told him: ‘Pat, I’m keeping you on.’ He won the next two but then he fought a guy meant to be an ego‑boost in Brooklyn.”

Carlos Garcia Hernandez, Day’s opponent in November 2015, had a mediocre record – nine wins, 14 losses and one draw. “The guy was a journeyman but he knocked Pat out. I thought Pat should get out of boxing. He had the charisma to be a very successful working person. Some fighters I would have kept on because if you take them out of boxing they get into drugs, criminal behaviour. Pat would never do that. I figured Pat could get a job so I released him.”

That decision hurt Day and Higgins. “I was a little angry,” Higgins admits, “because Pat went for a quick knockout. In his previous fight he dropped the kid and I don’t know how he didn’t get counted out. The referee blew it. Pat still won every round. But afterwards DiBella criticised Pat, his own boxer. They made a comment like Patrick needs to hit harder. That offended Pat. Against the journeyman, he tried to knock the guy out right away. That’s never the gameplan. He learned a valuable lesson and in his remaining fights he stuck to our gameplan. He beat real competitive guys.”

As the designated B-list opponent, meant to fall at the feet of the A-list prospect, Day shocked fighters with impressive records. From April 2016 to February 2019 he won six consecutive fights against supposedly superior rivals. DiBella had re-signed him after he beat the unbeaten Eric Walker in July 2017. “Lou had just signed Walker,” Higgins remembers, “but we knew we’d beat him.”

DiBella acknowledges: “Pat and Joe didn’t quit. They won some big fights against top opposition. I had a new contract with Pat and I put him in fights that were tough but not like King Kong fights. He went on a long winning run. That made me realise: ‘I can get him another opportunity.’

Education is everything to his family and we want to continue Pat’s legacy Lou DiBella, Patrick Day's promoter

“He came to see me before the Carlos Adames fight [in late June 2019]. His mother didn’t want him to fight. His parents are highly educated. This is not a family of under-achievers struggling against poverty. Pat was a kid any father would want his daughter to come home with. He said to me: ‘I’m making $10,000 a fight. I can’t justify this to my family. You’ve got to get me bigger fights.’ I wasn’t making much money with him but I believed in him as a person. His character was impeccable. When you have that combination of character, heart and you’re good, you can go a long way. So we got him Adames.”

Adames, a punishing fighter from the Dominican Republic, had a flawless 17-0 record – but Day would make $50,000 and believed he could win. “Pat boxed well against Adames,” Higgins says. “But the kid hurt him in the final round. I saw a picture of Pat after the fight. Their arms are around each other and they’re smiling. But Patrick’s face is busted up.”

DiBella recalls: “Pat fought brilliantly. Two-thirds of the way through, it was anybody’s fight. Adames wore Pat down but it was highly competitive. It was on ESPN and afterwards Pat was very positive. Sometimes you lose and it’s solitary. But everyone was taking pictures and telling him how well he fought. I told him I wasn’t going to release him. Pat’s message was the same: ‘I don’t want a meaningless fight. I want another opportunity.’”

Higgins believed “It could have been a draw”, adding: “Brad Goodman, the Top Rank matchmaker, felt that. Pat wasn’t his guy but they all loved Patrick. Brad thought Pat could beat Charles Conwell. He felt Conwell wasn’t as good as Adames.”

Aristhene was less certain. “I saw Conwell at the 2015 Golden Gloves. He fought Cordell Booker, who’s now an undefeated professional from New York. He beat Booker convincingly. I remember telling Pat that ‘Conwell is really tough’. But Pat and myself still thought it was winnable.”

Seanie’s wife, was more worried. “I was walking around town with Beverly that Saturday,” Seanie remembers, “and we saw the wife of Joe Quiambao who used to be DiBella’s matchmaker. She and my wife have a bond, and they loved Patrick. They were like: ‘Oh, no, Pat’s fighting another fricken beast.’”

In Chicago, Day had charmed the final press conference. He praised Chicago and the other fighters. He hoped everyone would stay “healthy and in one piece”. Day then said: “People look at me and say, ‘Oh, you’re such a nice guy, well-spoken, why do you choose to box?’ But I have a fighter’s soul and I love this sport. Boxing makes me happy. That’s why I choose to do it. That’s why we’re going to go out there on Saturday and have fun.”

Higgins smiles. “If anyone was thinking of talking smack they decided right after Patrick spoke that ‘I’m not doing it’. He humbled the entire room. He made everybody love each other.”

Few people loved him as much as his best friend. Aristhene, still reeling from his ominous dream the night before, felt sick. “In my dream the bad knockout happened in the third round. So once the fight passed round three, I felt calmer, like maybe this dream won’t come true. And then, in the 10th, it happened. I hated that.

“I’ve seen guys knocked out, and put on a stretcher, but they wake up. Look at Curtis Stevens against David Lemieux. He was on a stretcher, but he put his hand up and was OK. Manny Pacquiao got put to sleep pretty hard, but I’m thinking: ‘He woke up. He was OK.’ It’s not usually the guys knocked out cold who suffer damage. It’s usually the guys beaten up round after round. Pat got dropped twice earlier but the first one he was off-balance. The second was a rough one, but he was OK. The last one was so abrupt and his head hit the canvas so hard. But it wasn’t until they said he didn’t wake up that I knew it was bad. I flew to Chicago.”

Monaghan still can’t quite believe his friend is gone. “Coach called me from hospital. He says: ‘It’s not good, man. He won’t wake up.’ It was horrible. I thought, ‘Pat’s career is over but he’s a good kid and will do something else now.’ I was sad for Pat because he loved boxing. I never thought …”

Facebook Twitter Pinterest The gym locker of Patrick Day. Photograph: Joshua Bright/The Guardian

Monaghan looks up. “DiBella called me at midnight. He was freaking out: ‘Sean, the doctors say he might not make it.’ I told my wife and she gasped. Every time I spoke to Joe, there was no good news. The third Day brother was flying in from Texas. They were waiting for him and then they would switch off the machines. It makes me sick thinking about it.”

Heather Hardy , a fellow New York fighter, was also hit hard by Day’s death. On 18 October Hardy tweeted: “For 12 hours our timelines were flooded with love and prayers for Patrick Day. Now most of that is gone. I refuse to forget, or allow anyone to forget his death. I’m losing sleep … not because Pat was so close to me … but because he was me. I am him. Don’t forget him.”

I interview Hardy in Gleason’s, the famous old gym that lies in the shadow of Brooklyn bridge, and her face is lined with sweat after sparring. Hardy believes that the business of boxing, rather than the actual sport, cost Day his life. What does she mean? “An A-sided fighter is the favourite. You’re the promoter’s fighter. The B-side fighter is the guy who’s not supposed to win. The only time a B-side fighter ever really wins a fight, is when they knock the A-side fighter out. I felt like I am Pat because I also went into my last fight [against Amanda Serrano] as the B-side fighter. I felt the only way I was going to win was if I knocked her out.

“It made me lose respect for how boxing treats its combatants. Patrick was just treated as somebody to make money for everybody. A stepping stone. But he was a great person. I met him in the amateurs. I believe we were on the national team together. But I was also a matchmaker at Gleason’s so I matched fights for him. I was about 29 and Pat would have been 18. But I can’t claim we were close friends. We were just fighters together. It’s different with Seanie Monaghan and Pat. They were like brothers.”

I ask Monaghan when he last saw his friend. His crumpled face brightens as he remembers Patrick dancing in a Long Beach bar. “He was dressed so nice, dancing with this white girl. He turns round and gives me the biggest smile and sweatiest hug. He was a sweetheart.”

The last time the two Patricks went out they also ended up dancing in Rockville. “We were sitting around and I said: ‘I feel like dancing,’” Aristhene recalls. “We went to this place we liked and met two beautiful girls. We danced with them and had a great night. There was no drinking. Just dancing and good conversation. After that we went home. We live on the same block so Pat dropped me off at the corner.”

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Aristhene drives me back to the gym in Freeport. I tell him how Higgins had said he would miss Patrick more than ever on Christmas morning. “We live across the street from the Days and Pat and I had this Christmas tradition,” the trainer said. “We would meet in the middle of the street and I’d get my Christmas morning hug from Pat. It’s going to be hard on Christmas Day. I won’t hug Pat Day.”

New Year will be harder for Aristhene. He and Pat always spent New Year’s Eve together. “I’m going to be with his brothers this time,” Aristhene says. “We’ll remember Pat.”

Walking through the park to the gym, we feel better. The Day family and Aristhene are setting up a Patrick Day scholarship which will be supported by DiBella – with further contributions from Dazn, the sports streaming service, and Eddie Hearn, who promoted his last fight, and other boxing insiders.

“Education is everything to his family and we want to continue Pat’s legacy,” DiBella said. “What happened is heartbreaking but we can feel Pat’s impact. More has been written about health and safety in boxing the last few months than in a long time. There’ll be a kid going to college every year because of Pat. His name will live on.”

Those closest to him are badly wounded. Aristhene stresses that Pat’s mother, “who is like a second mom to me”, is “such a good person. But it’s so hard for her. There have also been days when I could hardly get up. If I was not a schoolteacher I would have quit my job. But knowing I had kids to help got me up. Pat came to the school last year and spoke to the kids. They loved him. Everything we’re doing in his name gives me positivity because, all our 27 years, he was my best friend, my brother. I had him the whole ride. So, when he passed, I had no regrets. That’s freeing.”

Inside the gym we see old photographs of Patrick boxing and smiling. We see his fight robe and his locker with his name scrawled above it. We see the ring where he and Seanie Monaghan sparred their thousand rounds. We see the corner where Joe Higgins used to wipe sweat from Patrick’s face while teaching him to become an even better fighter.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Joe Higgins’s cornerman jacket hangs at the Freeport Police Athletic League gym. Photograph: Joshua Bright/The Guardian

How does Aristhene feel about boxing now? “Very mixed. Boxing changed me for the better. Winning the Golden Gloves is one of my highest honours. It gave me discipline and clarity. But it’s hard for me to tell people to box now because of what happened. Boxing did a lot for Pat but it took his life. He died doing something he loved. When I’m shadow-boxing in the ring I feel good. I feel close to Pat. But then I have waves of frustration, anger, sadness at the gravity of it. Sometimes I throw punches and watch myself in the mirror. These are the movements that took his life but I know he submitted his soul to boxing.

“I had another dream about Pat the other night. I shave my head now. So when people touch my head it feels different. I felt Pat touch my head. In the dream I said: ‘What is it like?’ He said: ‘It’s nice. It’s chill with an all-knowing feeling.’ I found peace in that.”

We drive through Freeport one last time and, after all the tumult and grief, I sense that peace. I remember how, as we left the gym, Aristhene reached out and touched Pat’s locker. It was his way of saying goodbye – and a reminder that he will be back.

At Freepoint station we embrace like Coach Joe and Pat Day. “We’ll make sure his name and his legacy live on,” Aristhene says with certainty. “Patrick Day will never be forgotten.”