Tuesday, October 13, 2009

A Sure Thing Falls Through

Meg already has a fight this upcoming Thursday, so it looks like I won't be able to avenge my previous loss to her.  Even when it appears a fight is guaranteed in the boxing world -- regardless if it's an amateur or professional match -- there's still the chance the deal might fall through.  I'll go to Hamlin Park's boxing show, but now it's doubtful that I'll get matched up with anyone. 

I still have to train as if something is coming up, so I was sparring with Oscar.  Before we got into the ring, I heard Alan telling him, "Really hit her.  I mean, don't go crazy, but don't hold back."  He and I went two rounds, and I didn't think I did so well.  Oscar will rush in with a flurry of punches and put his head way down.  I tried to catch him with uppercuts, but I couldn't get the right angle.  Oscar also hit me in my left eye.  "I can still see out of it, so it must not be that bad," I thought to myself.  He backed me up in a corner, and I quickly turned out of there, something I've never done before.  Both Oscar and Alan told me that I did very well, but I felt like I was floundering.  The night before, I had watched a DVD about defense, but I seemed to have forgotten all of the moves when I was in the ring.

Ieisha got Oscar in the face several times when it was their turn.  I told her a couple of times to throw her right hook, the same one that knocked me down a few months ago.  Oscar kept leaving himself open on his left, but Ieisha wasn't able to take advantage of it.  After the first round, she told Alan and I that she was bleeding, but neither of us saw any blood.  When the second round ended, she indeed did have a cut inside her upper lip.

JJ was there last night, and he sparred with Carlos.  This time, Justin was paying more attention to his dad's presence in the ring than usual.  Justin was also attempting to hit the double end bag.  Whenever someone notices him hitting any of the bags, the boy gets shy, smiles, and puts his hands in his pockets.

Alan showed me recent pictures of his boy, Matthew, who's 16 years old.  He's in military school, and looked every inch of a soldier with his close cut hair and uniform.  "Who is the woman standing next to him?" I asked.  "That's my wife," Alan replied.  His wife is a pretty woman, whose husband and son both tower over. 

Before I left to go to the gym last night, Pastor Roger called me.  He's been battling the flu, and his voice was very deep.  "What's up, Barry White?" I joked.  "I've been in bed for five days, and I've only been able to talk again for about an hour.  You don't want what I've got," he said, sounding absolutely miserable.  "I can't get sick, I've got a fight this week," I said.  Of course, I didn't know at that point that my fight was gone.  "If you're still feeling sick tomorrow, stay at home," I continued.  Pastor Roger doesn't believe in infecting others when he's ill, unlike my former boss, Les.  There were many times I was at the gym, sick as a dog, because I had caught a cold from Les, who didn't have enough sense to stay at home when he was sick.

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