Today, I met with Laura, a nice young woman who is a journalism student at Northwestern University. For about an hour in a nearby coffee shop, she interviewed me about my involvement in boxing.
She asked many interesting questions. One was about how I feel about the salaries that professional boxers receive. Pros who have worked their way up deserve the big paydays. Boxing is not an easy sport, and the potential for injury is higher than in most other sports in my opinion. Unfortunately, some pros have become so selective and/or careless about protecting their reps, that some of them just take a bout for the paycheck. Once the love of the game is gone, they should hang up the gloves and leave with dignity.
Laura also brought out something in my subconscious that partially fuels my interest in the sport. I told her how I had been the kid who was picked on unmercifully in grade school (and to a lesser extent, in high school). I was always the smallest, always wore glasses, a source of jealousy because I was a good student, and in grade school, I was a big crybaby. I didn't win most of the schoolyard fights back then. If I had the skills that I have now, I would have sent a lot of kids to the nurse's office. In a weird way, knowing how to box somewhat evens the score, even though those days of peer persecution are long gone.
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