Loyola Park's Winning Night

As promised some time ago, here is a photo of me wearing the lovely coach's jacket that Amy gave me a few months ago.  There was no fight for me at this year's boxing show down at the field house, so I helped out everyone else in my assistant coach role.

I got to the field house a bit late.  I saw Rob, a pastor who used to train at the gym.  His sons, both heavyweights, had fights.  Rob's sons didn't win, but according to their father, they put on a good showing.

Gabriel's fight came up not long after I showed up.  The announcer got Gabriel's last name correct, but kept messing up on his first name, which I found amusing.  Usually people have problems pronouncing the last name.  Gabriel was backed up into corners and the ropes a few times, but then he used his long reach to keep the other guy from coming in on him.  The other guy took some hard straight punches and hooks from Gabriel, especially in the last round.  Gabriel was the victor.

James, or Professor, as we commonly know him, was up next in a 168 pound match.  Throughout the fast three rounds, the other boxer never got one significant hit on Professor.  Professor was clocking the guy left and right. Professor had said all day long on his Facebook page that he was going to win his fight, and true to his word, he did.

Andres was in a super heavyweight fight.  Arnold and I kept yelling from the sides, "Hit the body!"  At the end of the second round, Andres' opponent was tired, and it showed.  Andres delivered some straight shots to the guy's mid-section, and threw some hooks in that direction as well.  Andres' hand was raised in victory after it was all over.

Of the adult boxers, Matthew was the last to have a bout.  From ringside, Alan instructed Matthew to relax. Matthew was aggressive enough to back the other person up into a corner at one point.  But after Matthew was backed into a corner, the referee stopped the fight.  Confused, I asked, "What happened?"  Matthew had raised up his knee -- the same thing he did the other night when Alan had him up against the ropes while they sparred.  I heard Alan telling him, "I should have reminded you not to do that," as he took off Matthew's gloves and headgear.   The decision went to the other boxer.

Arnold took a video of me on his cell phone interviewing Professor and Andre about their fights afterwards.

Barry's fighters didn't do bad, either.  The last fight of the evening was between Dominick, and another kid. Dominick was getting the best of the kid most of the time.  The other kid got two eight counts.  Dominick won.

Arnold (who looks very good with a beard, by the way), a friend of Andres, and Andres pose with Alan right after Andres' fight.

Andres goes in for a hook to the other boxer's body.

Arnold holds the pads to help Matthew warm up for his bout.

Eric and Barry with Dominick in the corner.

Matthew (in the middle) talks to Gabriel and Nina (Matthew's girlfriend) after the fight.

Professor and Andres after Professor's fight.

Professor and Oscar.

The champions:  Professor, Andres, and Gabriel.

It was a good night.  I saw Bill, the coach at Hamlin, and he told me there's six women in his gym.  I need to get over there and get some sparring in.  I also saw Sean, who was the referee during some of the matches. Rico, who I hadn't seen since the cops vs fire fighters match a few months ago, was there, too.

Tall John was disappointed that I didn't get a fight.  He was ready to take pictures.  Gabriel wanted to see me fight, too.  "I wanted to see you throw that overhand right on someone!" he grinned.  But there are still several more tournaments to go before mid-December, and I believe I will get at least one fight at one of those shows.

No, I'm Not Pregnant, Just Fat

My thumb and middle finger on my right hand (that finger was injured on Monday as well) was good enough to tolerate sparring this past Wednesday.  Once again, I was paired up with Alan.  We started in the middle of the first round, ending up doing two rounds and a half.  Before the last round started, Alan told me, "I'm going to get you in this next round."  Shay and Evangelina were watching from the other side of the ropes, and their eyes grew bigger.  "See how he treats me?" I joked to them.

No knockdown this time, but I was hit in both eyes, and took some shots to my stomach.  Try as I might, I could not break through Alan's defense to give him an uppercut.  That punch is the least used when I spar, and I wish for once I could get one in and make it count. 

The gym was filled mostly with newbies that night, with the exception of Danny, Ralphie, Jamil and Eric.  No sign of Stacey, Roshawn or Toya.  Eric showed me a picture of his oldest son (another child is on the way), an adorable boy who was posed on top of a motorcycle. 

I'm still adjusting my schedule to accommodate school and the studying/homework that comes with it.  Normally, I would have done a boxing workout at church yesterday.  Since the weather was cooperating, I rode my bike for a few hours instead.  The trail I took -- the North Channel Trail -- has some uphills that are hard, hard labor to manuever.  I kept adjusting the gears on my bike, but that didn't help a lot.  "I wish had taken some Advil before I left the house", I thought to myself after my knees protested.  Some of the city streets I rode along weren't any better.  Encountering speed bumps are just as annoying on a bike as they are when one is driving a car. 

I was supposed to start doing crunches this week.  I used to be able to do 50 of them at a time about a couples of years ago.  I fell out of the habit.  Now I have to build myself back up to that number and beyond.  If I do 10 a day, or every other day, I should be able to do it.  The strongest indicators that my gut has gotten out of control was a) when my stepmother asked me suspiciously back on Thanksgiving, "Why is your stomach so big?" and b) too many guys on the street asking me if I'm pregnant.  Apparently, a lot of people can't tell the different between being fat and being pregnant.  Not wishing to be mistaken for any woman who is, I need to whittle down my middle. 

"You Put Your Face In Front Of The Fist!"

A good sized crowd was in the gym Monday night.  Chloe and Joe showed up, but she and I didn't spar.  I'm assuming that Joe planned that she have a light workout, like most coaches will plan when their fighter has a bout coming up.  It's not always a good idea to spar very close to a match because of the possibility of the fighter becoming injured.  I promised Chloe that would go see her compete at the Gloves this week.

Another new woman named Toya came in.  She had a lot of questions about the gym and the sport in general.  "I think I'm going to like this!" she said.  I went over left jabs, rights, and movement with her and Cynthia.  For a long time, we were just talking and laughing.  Alan came over and grinned, "You all have been standing around for 20 minutes.  Hillari, you've got to make them work!"  I also showed them how to use the bags in the gym.

Alan and I sparred after Carlos and Jamil.   I accidentally stepped on his foot.  That's a habit I have most times that I spar.  It's a footwork error I need to correct.  Then Alan stepped on mine, and I lost my balance and fell to the canvas.  "Two can play that game," Alan grinned through his mouthpiece.  "It was an accident!" I protested.  He kept motioning for me to aim for his head, which I did reach a few times.  He caught me in the mouth once with a punch.  It was a wake up to me to keep my mouth closed.

I felt a lump inside my lower lip later on.  Upon closer inspection in the bathroom mirror at home, I saw a red bruise.  "Humph. . .he got me good there," I muttered to myself.  When I pointed it out to Pastor Roger at work the following morning, he pointed out, "Well, you put your face in front of his fist!"  "This afternoon, I'm going to work out in the gym," I told him, referring to the good-sized gym that is in the church.  "That's fine.  I don't know why more people don't take advantage of it," Pastor said.  One reason is that there is no gym equipment available.  Oh, there is a basketball hoop, but not everyone plays ball.  It would be nice if there were extra funds to put some used equipment in there, but the Haitian church uses that room for their Sunday services.  I suppose we could find a place to move and lock up the equipment somewhere in church.  But if it's too unwieldy to keep moving back and forth, the other congregation may not appreciate the equipment being in the way, as well as being a distraction on Sunday mornings.

Shortly after the Pastor left for a lunch meeting, I pulled out one of the church's boom boxes, threw on some James Brown and the JB's CDs, and worked out for a little over an hour.  It was slow going in the beginning.  My mind wasn't really focused, and I could feel my blood sugar dropping.  I had a bowl of sugar free oatmeal earlier, but that had long burned away.  After several rounds (I had brought my individual timer with me), I put more energy into the workout and actually had a good one.  Pastor returned near the end of the workout. I was waiting for him to admonish me about blasting the JB's on the boom box.  Pastor is not a fan of worldly music, not since the 1980's anyway.  But I like my workout music to be mostly old school R&B and pumping.  I remember when Anna, a friend of mine, and myself were roller skating in the church gym before a new floor was put in.  I had the JB's on the boom box that day, too, but she decided to switch the music to a steady stream of gospel choir songs.  "You can't skate off of that," I told her.  I like a lot of Christian music, don't get me wrong.  But I do like other genres of music, and it's not my preference for workout music.  

There are showers upstairs in church on the third floor.  I didn't bring soap, a towel, or a change of clothes.  I'm so used to going straight home from Loyola Park and taking a shower (or laying down, depending on how tired and/or hurt I am after the gym).   I want to make a regular habit of working out in the church gym, so next time, I'll be better prepared. 

Taking It To The Eye

I teased little Justin last night. He came in again with his father, Carlos. "You and I are going to spar on Wednesday," I told him. Justin gave me an amused look, and his dad laughed. Willie did a workout last night and noticed E's son. "Hillari, didn't you say that he was the one who knocked you out?" he winked. E's son gave us both a confused look as we giggled.

E thought he had taken a hit to his eye during sparring. I was working out on the uppercut bag while he was in the ring. He rested in the corner closed to where I was during the time out. "Is my eye swollen and red?" he asked. "No, not at the moment," I answered. His son stood next to Alan on the other side, helpfully holding up his dad's water bottle.

Alan's cousin, Ricky, came in with his two sons -- one 20-years old and the other 17-years-old. The sons worked out. "I saw your blog," Ricky smiled. More and more people that come into the gym tell me that.

Ieisha was going to ask me about sparring until she saw me rubbing my left hand. It doesn't hurt as much as it has been, but it still does, depending on how I move it. I was going to do uppercuts on the teardrop bag, but Ieisha suggested that I not do that. "I'm older and that's why it's taking me longer to heal," I said. "They say that 40-something is the new 30," she said. "Can't prove that by me," I grinned. Alan also asked me about sparring. When I told him about the continuing pain in my hand, he said something that indicated he found my claim dubious. "I don't want to get knocked out before I go to my high school reunion," I joked. I can imagine showing up with a black eye and having my former classmates thinking, "Who knew she was that crazy when we were all in school together?"

Deon (I think I have his name right) and Leon sparred. Alan kept warning Leon not to go so hard. I was working on the heavy bag that's closest to the ring, partially paying attention to the action. Several people gasped, and I turned to see Deon fall to the canvas. Leon had hit him in his left eye. Alan instructed Deon to remain laying down, and he did for several minutes. When he finally arose, Deon was a little unsteady on his feet. He said that his vision was blurry in that eye. I overheard Alan admonishing Leon about his heavy punching.

Alan ended up driving Deon to the hospital. I left a message for Barry to say that Deon left his bike in the gym -- he didn't have a bike lock, so that was the best place to leave it. I hope his eye is okay.

Monday's Coach

Everyone was hanging around in the hall outside of the gym on Monday, wondering where Alan was. "He's probably running late," I answered. Then I remembered he said he wasn't going to be in that evening. I found Carol and BK so they could open up the gym.

Two new people, a man and a woman, were there. The man looked familiar to me. He might have signed up for the gym in the past and not stuck around for too long. The woman's name was Shanice, I believe. I spent time showing them the one-two combination (left jab, right cross) and how to stand.

I didn't get much of a workout in, partially because I was lazy, partially because I was coaching people, and partially because I was watching the room. Three other people roamed in, two guys and a girl who looked like they were in their late teens/early twenties. The taller of the two guys asked if he could hit the bags. It's annoying when people walk in and assume they are entitled to play around just because the door is open. However, I was polite as I explained they had to pay to play. Fortunately, they strolled back out after a few moments.

Carlos brought his little boy, Justin, in with him. Justin got bored, as five-year-olds will do when asked to sit and stay still for long periods of time. He had a couple of action figures to play with, but Justin kept getting up and down. "Which superheroes are those?" I asked him. "One is black Spiderman, and the other is red Spiderman," he answered. "Do you read the comic books?" I said to him. "Yeah, sometimes," Justin replied. "I used to read Spiderman comic books and watch the cartoon when I was little," I informed him. Justin gave me a curious look. "Spiderman was around when you were little?" he inquired. "Spiderman first came out when I was a little girl," I smiled. I didn't tell him that the character was created in 1962. Little kids cannot wrap their minds around the concept of decades. It's kind of funny, actually, about small kids and their concept of time. Years ago, another five-year-old told me that I was old. I was fourteen years old at the time.