The first thing you notice when you enter Crocker's Gym in Dapto is the stirring portrait of the man himself.

And that's just how his star fighter wants it.

Vito Gaudiosi won an Australian title with Father Maurie Crocker in his corner and says the tough old priest left a legacy that should never die.

Inside the ring, however, wasn't where Father Crocker's fiercest battle was fought.

Dedicated as he was to coaching his young boxers, the Berkeley priest was intensely driven to expose the Catholic Church and the child molesters it was protecting.

"What we are doing here is keeping Maurie Crocker's memory alive and reminding the Catholic Church of everything he stood for and what he uncovered after they turned their back on him," Gaudiosi said this week.

Crocker's portrait hangs above the ring, ensuring the old man's presence is always felt.

Gaudiosi cherishes his memories and is passionate about passing on the life lessons he learned from the unconventional priest with his tattoos and no teeth. Back in the day, Father Crocker ran the boxing club in the old church hall. Boys would visit him in the gym, some confided that a Catholic priest and a Christian brother had abused them.

Crocker did what he thought was right. He took the troubling news to the Wollongong Diocese bishop.

The church took no action. Father Crocker tried the police but his evidence was insufficient.

After four frustrating years, Father Crocker took his story to Illawarra Mercury editor Peter Cullen who did more than listen. He launched a major investigation which led to the arrest of the offending priest. The Christian brother committed suicide before charges were laid.

Next the Wood Royal Commission was expanded to expose extensive paedophile activity in the Wollongong area.

But for Father Crocker, the realisation back then that his church was turning a blind eye was wearing him down.

Gaudiosi says the signs were there that his good mate couldn't take much more.

On March 26, 1998 - six years to the day since Gaudiosi lost his Commonwealth title fight - Father Crocker, 62, went into the gym, took down a bag and hanged himself on the metal chain.

"I only twigged 12 months later," Gaudiosi recalls.

"He works in mysterious ways to this day, he must have thought 'I'll give Vito something to remember'."

His death shattered Gaudiosi and his mates who shovelled the dirt over his coffin as it was lowered into the ground.

"When he passed away that afternoon they wanted to get rid of any trace of Maurie," Gaudiosi says.

"Priests entered his house, removed whatever they could, then they went into the gym. They wanted all traces of him gone."

A new priest came in to keep the boxing boys calm. They were enraged.

"It was a big job keeping us calm," Gaudiosi says.

"Maurie had already retired when he died. At that time, Jo Lopez was using the hall to train kickboxers and I was using it to train boxers. We were doing what we could to keep him fit, get him out, keeping his mind off things," Gaudiosi says.

"About a month later the hints were there that we would have to move out.

"We were very protective of our gym. They had a big job to get us out."

Gaudiosi and Lopez wanted to work with the church to keep Crocker's memory alive and to continue his work. They were hoping for use of a church facility or church-owned land.

"They listened to what we had to say and basically said 'you are both grieving at this time, I know your intentions, but go away and come back when the grieving process is finished'," Lopez says.

"That was another way to put us off. They didn't want us there."

Adds Gaudiosi: "They wanted to close the memory of Crocker, they wanted it to disappear." Lopez says it was like being "palmed off in nice way".

"They could have used us to do something positive, to clear their name, but they didn't want to know us."

So Gaudiosi looked elsewhere. He sold his house and bought a block of land with an eye to setting up his own gym, when Dandaloo Hotel publican Phil Duggan stepped in and offered to build the facility on a patch of land out back.

"We got an 11-metre by 11-metre gym and at the time that was ample," Gaudiosi says.

But today the humble gym is bursting at the seams. It is home to children from four years of age.

It's not just where parents bring their kids to learn the sweet science, it's an escape and a safe haven for people with learning difficulties, young men who are the subject of corrective service orders and kids who have gone off the rails.

"We need funding. A lot of kids get it for nothing and it's just getting bigger and bigger. We're very passionate about this place," Lopez says.

While the Dandaloo site will always be the Crocker gym base, the pair has a dream to expand.

They're cautious, however, about losing control.

"We have been burnt before, we are a not-for-profit organisation and we want to keep some sort of control so it doesn't take away what we've done, what we've achieved over all these years," explains Lopez, who is president.

"We are not going to be ruled by someone else."

Gaudiosi and Lopez want "Crocker's Gym, Vito's Boxing" to evolve into a gym that doubles as a half-way house and recreation centre for troubled youth from across the Illawarra and beyond.

"It's always been a dream of Vito's and mine to have a gym where not only people can box, but where we can hold other activities. Where we have access to counsellors because kids will come and talk to Vito and I because they feel comfortable," Lopez says.

"But we are not trained in dealing with certain problems. We want to point these kids in the right direction, get them the proper help and support.

"We help kids get work, help with their personal problems, kids who've been assaulted, the kids feel confident in talking to us so we want to help them in other ways.

"We get kids come in here who have had to leave school. They might not be brightest, but we can see they've got good hearts so we get them in training hard. We've helped thousands of kids like that."

It's the school of hard knocks though, with Gaudiosi making sure kids follow his rules.

"They don't even enter a boxing class unless they are organised, attending school or working. If you're not going to school when you should be you're not allowed do these programs," he says.

"I'm very old school, I talk freely about stranger danger awareness, paedophilia awareness, how important it is to report crime. The kids are very well switched on in this gym. I'm very open in the way I talk to them."

However, the demands of the gym have taken their toll on the volunteer boxing coach and former police officer. He struggles with chronic post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and some days struggles to step foot in the gym. But aside from his family, helping these kids and keeping the memory of his beloved mate alive is what makes his life worthwhile.

"The only reason I'm still attached to this gym is that if I go it's all gone, Crocker's name will be forgotten," he says.

"I've had my ups and downs, it's a really tough some days, I struggle badly with PTSD but doctors are telling me to keep doing it, keep going. If I walk away Crocker's memory is gone, and that's what the church wants."

And while he carries on Crocker's work on the ground, his old friend is sending him signs from above.

"Crocker's work is still going today with ICAC [the Independent Commission Against Corruption] - he's still working from above," Gaudiosi says.

"Anyone who he exposed, or who he was attempting to expose before he died has either gone to jail, suicided, or is out of the way. And I love it, they are finally gone, Crocker still works from above. And I don't want anybody to forget it."

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