Getting The Uppercut In

Leon, Ralphie and Carlos did a bit of interval training on Wednesday. The drill went like this: one person hits the heavy bag for 30 seconds while another person holds it. Then the person holding the bag hits the bag for 30 seconds while the next person holds it, and so forth.

I sparred with Carlos again earlier that evening, and managed to make it through two rounds. I caught him a couple of times with uppercuts. "Nice," I heard Alan say from the sidelines. For the longest time, I have been trying to figure out how to get in uppercuts on opponents. As short as I am, it's not easy. Carlos likes to do a lot of bobbing and weaving. One of the times he ducked down is when I got him with a left uppercut.

Alan told Carlos that he was ready for a match, and he told him about a Park District boxing show that takes place next Thursday. Carlos works various shifts at his job, but he thought he'd be able to attend. "I have to talk it over with my wife before I say yes," he announced. "She's afraid of you being hurt," I said, and he agreed. He also talked about the possibility of being in next year's Golden Gloves. Since he's had no previous fights, Carlos would be classified as a novice in that competition.

Carlos told me that his son Justin would like to box, but his wife nixed the idea. He'll put Justin in basketball instead, when the boy turns six years old. Moms either are for their kids boxing or against it. There seems to be no middle ground when it comes to that. The ones who are supportive of it appear to be really into it when they show up at the matches.

The following day, I was on my way to help Pastor and Virginia clean and move some things up to their new apartment when I spotted Barry in the alley. Barry was working; he's with Streets and Sanitation. He was chatting with a neighbor of mine who lives on the other side of the alley. For several years now, I've been exchanging pleasantries with that particular neighbor, but I never knew his name. After I greeted them both, Barry told the neighbor, "Hillari is one of the boxers at the gym."

My neighbor smiled and said, "I figured that she was." To my surprise, I found out that he's Gabe's dad. His name is David. "I was looking for Gabe this summer," I told him. Gabe was going to college out of state, but he would stop in the gym several times during the summers. "He's going to law school downtown now," David said. I've always thought that David was a good-looking silver fox. Now I see where Gabe gets his good looks from.