The Night At Brooks Park

Alan told me when I called him earlier, "You can bring your gear down to Brooks Park."  "But you told me there were no opponents for me," I said.  "Well, you never know.  But it's up to you," he answered.  Both of my knees had been hurting all day, my lower back had twinges of pain here and there, and my left shoulder was a bit stiff.  But I exhibited the natural hard-headed tendencies I inherited from my late dad, and I packed a bag with my gear.  All the while, the rational side of my brain was snapping, "Girl, please!  Where is your mind?"

I took two buses to get up to Brooks Park.  When I got there, Kevin was upstairs, ready to go, shadow boxing in preparation.  Willie and Nate Sr. had some of the kids with them: Gilbert, Tall Kenny, Nate Jr., and Eric.  Unfortunately, Barry had another engagement, so he couldn't come down with the kids.  Soon, Reggie came in, and he was ready to fight as well.  "I'm nervous," he said.  "Use that energy in the ring," I told him.

While picking out familiar faces in the crowd (Shifty, Jack, Sean, Gary),  I spotted Meg.  "Oh, snap," I thought, and reality knocked me upside my head.  Our guys were called in to weigh-in, and I went in the room because Alan hadn't arrived yet.  I wanted to make sure they all got in.  Pat, one of the Park District coaches, politely asked me to step out of the room during the weigh-ins.  "Because they're stripping, y'know?" he said.  Outside the room, I chuckled to myself, and thought, "Like a woman as old as I hasn't seen that before."  I was going to weigh-in, but after I saw Meg and took stock of my creaky body, a small, still voice said to me, "Don't do it," and I didn't.  Alan was glad when I told him of my decision later. 

Meg fought a woman named Maggie in the 145 pound division.  Alan told me, "Meg's opponent is 15 pounds lighter and she's 21 years old."  Maggie caught Meg up against the ropes during the second round, something that I was never able to do during the three times Meg and I fought.  I commented on that to Alan.  "The fights you had with her were close," he said.  Meg lost, and I was surprised because she's pretty tough.   

Tall Kenny used his long arms and legs to keep his opponent off of him to get a win, but Gilbert was overwhelmed too many times by his, so he took home the second place trophy.  None of the other young men got fights.

Reggie's opponent, Chris, was about the same build as he.  Reggie was rocking the guy with shots, and one of those shots put Chris on the canvas.  Chris recovered to continue, but Reggie remained dominant.  I was acting a fool on the side, yelling, "That's right.  Get him!  All day!" 

Kevin did not get a fight.  "I know you would have fought him.  But the guy they had was too tall for you, about 6 foot 2," Alan explained to him.  Honestly, I was a little glad that Kevin didn't get a match.  Kevin's nose is broken, and still in the process of healing.  He told me he's been having trouble breathing, and that he hasn't seen a doctor yet.  "It might also be a deviated septum," I told him, thinking about when I had mine fixed a few years ago.  I still don't know how my nose was injured in the first place.  It could have been that time I was three years old and was dashed to the sidewalk after I fell out of a baby swing.  Who knows.

Tomorrow is my birthday, and no, I still haven't made a decision about whether or not to continue competing.  My glee as I packed a gear bag before I went up to Brooks tonight is a sure sign that I ain't ready to let that go yet.  Right now, I think a) my body will have to give me a clear message, like one of my wobbly knees popping out of place or b) I'll have to take a real bad beat down to stop competing.  As I've said before, we boxers can be a stubborn, crazy lot of folks.  Just ask Evander Holyfield or Roy Jones Jr.