Pepper On A Right Hook

Jilberto opened the door for me. Two unfamiliar guys walked in the gym. One guy, whose name I learned was Carlos, stated that he had signed up for the summer session. He wanted to check the gym out. The second guy looked like he was in his late teens. He barely grunted when I said "hi", then proceeded to punch on every bag in the gym.

He was kicking the smaller of the heavy bags. "Don't do that. That's not what they're for," I ordered. The guy asked Paul a few questions about the gym. I watched the guy carefully. He took one of the jump ropes, grabbed his backpack and jacket, and walked out of the gym. I followed him. "Excuse me, young man, but where are you going with that rope?" He walked back, mumbling something about wanting to jump rope outside. There wasn't that many people in the gym at that point, so he would have had plenty of room to do that there. "Why would you take a rope? That's Park District property. You can always buy your own," I said with a bit of irritation. He put the rope back and left again. Alan came in a moment later. "You just missed a would-be thief," I told him.

Later, I sparred with Katie and Maggie. I still have not figured out how to get around Katie's long arms. On top of that, she's getting better at feeling her range. I took a lot of shots to the top of my head.

Maggie and I are about the same height, so moving around her was easier. During our second round, I realized I kept moving the same way each time I threw a left-right combination. Maggie was able to anticipate what I would do next. "Why don't I try to slip a hook in?" I thought to myself. Maggie's left dropped for a moment after she threw a right. I came over with a right hook. The next thing I knew, Maggie was on the canvas.

My memory dialed back to the last time I physically knocked someone down. The first person that came to mind was a worthless ex-boyfriend who had the nerve to hit me nearly 20 years ago. I cut his cheek open with a right, and his head snapped back, but his 6'3 frame did not go down. There was a fight between my late younger sister and I that took place a few years before that. I do remember knocking her down and cutting her lip open in the process. That was a long, long time ago.

Maggie got to her feet and caught her breath. She assured Alan and I that she was okay, but she looked shaky. Alan stopped the round and took her gloves off. I asked her again if she was fine, and she said she was. "You're a knockout specialist, beating up on poor social workers," John the lawyer said, referring to Maggie's job.