Wednesday, December 05, 2012

Birthday Boxing

It's funny how some of the guys in the gym always have stories about fights and near-fights they've been in.  The latest involved Reygie. He was dancing in a club with a woman, and the woman's boyfriend took offense.  "I didn't know she was with someone!  As she and the guy were leaving, the guy shoved me.  I thought, 'Okay, let's do this!'  The girl pushed the guy on out, and as soon as he walked away, she gave me her phone number," Reygie laughed.

Alan tried to convince Paul to spar with Reygie.  "Hell, no!  My nose needs to heal," Paul said, referring to when Andre hit him on Monday.  "Aw, come on, Paul. . .stop being soft," Alan teased him.  I couldn't blame Paul for wanting to be careful.  Paul told me his nose had never been bloodied up like that before.  There had been blood all over his shirt, and he wore it home that night.  His future mother-in-law (Paul is getting married next spring) saw the shirt and was shocked.

Reygie and Andre sparred, and he got several direct hits in to Andre's head.  Andre covers up very well, but Reygie gauged the distance correctly and got his punches in. 

Andre and I sparred, and an overhand right I executed got an "Ooh!" from Reygie and Paul.  "Knock him out!" Reygie added.  Alan had been talking to the other guys in the gym, so his attention was elsewhere.  "What happened?" I heard him asking.  "Aw, you missed it!" Reygie told him.  I like sparring with Andre because he gives me opportunities to work on my offense. 

During the last fifteen minutes or so of the evening, suddenly a mix of the field house staff and the other people in the gym came in singing, "Happy Birthday".  Alan had a Boston creme cake in his hand that had candles on it.  I wondered whose birthday it was.  Renata pointed at me, then the light bulb went off.  My birthday is this Saturday.  "We're not going to ask how old you are," Renata said when everyone finished singing.  "I don't care.  I'll be fifty-one," I said.   I heard twenty-year-old Andre say,  "Wow.  She just whipped me up tonight!"
I thought that was sweet of Alan to remember my birthday.   The cake was really good. 
Most everybody got a slice of the cake.  There was one piece left, and Alan gave me that to take home.  Today would have been my mother's 80th birthday; I told Alan she wanted me to be born on her day, but I guess I wasn't ready to come out of the oven yet. 
"So what will you do on your birthday?" Marcus asked.  "I might go up to Hamlin Park and get some sparring in.  Bill keeps asking about when I'll come in," I answered.  "Now that's a way to spend your birthday - getting hit in the face.  Some people go to the spa on their day, and you'll go to spar," Marcus grinned. 

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