"Looks like slim pickings tonight," Alan commented on Wednesday night. Professor came in, but he didn't stay long. Amy, Sarah, and Tommy were there. Jacob came in the gym a little bit after Professor had left. Art came in for a minute and looked around.
The crowd is always low right before a new session starts. The Spring session begins on Monday. I keep hearing that people can't sign up online because it's full. But that doesn't necessarily mean there's going be a full house next week. Alan told everyone on Monday that he's going to have to get tough on people who come in and out but never sign up for the session.
The video clip above features Alan and Jacob during their first round of sparring. In one of the later rounds, I thought both men were going to flip over the ropes. Jacob and Alan were locked in a clinch, and both of them leaned on the top ropes.
I was in the ring with Jacob before Alan was. Alan kept telling me to go for Jacob's head. Afterwards, I asked Jacob, "How tall are you?" "About 5'11," he answered. "Alan, how am I going to hit someone who's 5'11 in the head?" I said. Alan told me something I hadn't noticed before. When I go in to do the body shots -- and I got a lot in on Jacob -- I don't protect my head. That would explain a lot, especially when I had those three fights with Meg, and I took all those head shots.
Amy told me earlier that Sarah, who arrived later in the evening, probably wouldn't spar because she's wants to give her nose a chance to heal. My nose still feels a little sore, too. However, Sarah is working with a lot more common sense than I do when it comes to sparring. I did tell Amy that there are times, rare as they are, when I don't spar: a) if I had been knocked out during a previous sparring session or bout and b) if I really feel out of sorts that particular day. Feeling out of sorts includes having a bad cold or flu (although I've made exceptions for those sometimes), but more often, it's just a rundown feeling, a sign that my body has had enough for the moment.
I was telling Alan about the time my mother threatened to put a beat down on my Dad's third wife. After I told it, I thought, "He must be thinking, ah ha! That's where she gets that fighting drive from!" My late dad had a temper, but Ma's temper wasn't fun to deal with, either. Most of the time, she'd do a slow burn. The late comedic actor Paul Lynde was a master at the slow burn, usually accompanied by grumbling insults. That's what Ma does. But when she really got fired up about something. . .sigh. All I have to say is, Dad's third wife should have thanked me for being in-between her and Ma that day, and if something had gone down, I would have put my bets on my mother.
Alan said that his eye took a hit during sparring on Monday, and he couldn't remember if it had been his boss Paul who did the deed or me. "Me? It couldn't have been me! Little old me?" I joked. Alan smiled, "Well, it is what it is."
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