The Stranger In The Fieldhouse Hallway

Had a bit of embarassment this evening: I learned that the little child of one of the new people who has been coming to the gym is a boy, not a girl. It was an easy mistake to make. The child, who is a first grader, is small, and has his hair in little braids. His hair style reminded me of my mother grumbling about small boys around our neighborhood who had long hair. "Their mamas need to cut their hair so that they look like little boys," she'd say. He's a nice kid, however. He usually sits near the coach's desk and occupies himself playing on a hand-held video game.

Alan could not come into the gym tonight, so Jilberto opened the door for me. Just as I arrived, Jilberto pointed out a guy who was hanging around in the hallway. "Have you ever seen him before?" he asked. The guy wasn't familar. Soon I learned the guy's name was Willie, and he had recently signed up for boxing, or so he claimed. The latest class roster was not in the gym, so I couldn't be sure if he was actually in the class or not.

Willie also said he had boxed at Clarendon Park in the mid 1990's, but was not familiar with Alan's name. Alan had been the coach over there for years before taking over at Loyola Park. "Will they let me box with this?" Willie asked, and he pulled up his shirt. "Very inappropriate," I thought to myself, but I noticed something was out of place. Willie admitted that he had some sort of serious operation on his stomach months ago. He had failed to mention it when he signed up for the class. Mine and Jilberto's antennae raised up. "Boxing is a strenuous sport. You need to bring in a doctor's note stating that you're fit to do this," we told him.

I told him he was free to come in and maybe hit the bags a little, but sparring would be out until he got a medical all-clear. "Well, I wanted to do more than just hit the bags," he said. He then said he wanted to go for another boxing championship. Willie claimed he won a championship when he was forty-four. He's now fifty-seven years old. "You're 57? I'm 47, and I can no longer get an amateur boxing license because I have diabetes," I stated. I was trying to hint to Willie that his seemingly serious health problems were not going to be in his favor in terms of getting matches.

Since he couldn't do what he came down there to do, he started talking about getting a refund. I repeated that he needed to bring in a doctor's note, and talk to Mary when he does. "I don't work for the Park District, so I don't know how they would handle refunding money. But for your own safety, you need to consult your doctor," I told him. "The one who did the surgery or my primary doctor?" Willie asked. I was getting the feeling that Willie wasn't comprehending what I had told him up to that point. Luckily, Jilberto was exhibiting as much patience as I trying to continue to do, and we sent him on his way.

Not many people showed up tonight. Melanie was wondering where the newcomers had disappeared. A friend of two of them, who takes yoga classes upstairs in the fieldhouse, came down to look for them, but they didn't come in.

Sadiq and one of the newcomers -- either Oscar or Severno, I can't remember his name -- sparred, and promised to go light. But the other guy didn't keep his hands up or work his jab enough, and Sadiq bloodied him up. I rinsed his face and wiped it to get the crimson off. I have to give him credit because he stayed in there, and was moving well, but he's got to mindful of where his hands are.