Little Bit Of Blood

Diego came to the gym this past Wednesday. When I approached the fieldhouse, he was outside with his parents. I had always suspected that his mom was very young. Steve told me she was in her late twenties. That means she gave birth to Diego when she was a teen; he's about nine years old.

Steve and Diego did what I thought would be light sparring in the ring. I happened to look around and saw Steve wiping blood that was running from the boy's nose. "Steve, did you hit this child?" I said with mock indigination. "Yeah, I did," Steve said, pinching Diego's nose to stop the spread of crimson. Steve stepped away to his desk for a second to do something, and I wiped the blood away that was on Diego's chin and throat. Some blood was under the strap on his headgear as well. I tried to catch it before some got on his white shirt, but unfortunately, a drop left a stain. His mother is going to have a fit when she comes to pick him up, I thought.

Mom was very cool about it, after both Diego and Steve explained what happened. She had a "these things happen" attitude about the situation. I told my boss, Les, what happened the following morning. At first, he thought I was talking about giving first aid to one of the kids that live at my job. When he found out it was a kid at gym, he asked, "How old is he?" Les shook his head. He walked back to his office saying, "I just don't get it." It's hard to explain the appeal of boxing to people, especially someone who doesn't like the sport, like Les, for example.

The gym is closed tonight and the following week. I haven't called Bill, the coach at Hamlin yet, to see if I can work out there for a couple of nights, but I will. I'll also stop in to JABB Gym at least once next week.