Out At The Golf Course

The gym was closed this past Friday, as JJ had a match at a private show out at a country club in Park Ridge. JJ said his first fight took place there. I couldn't remember being at that club before. All of them tend to look the same: the parking lot, the front entrance, the rooms that perpetrate the smell of old money, even though a lot of younger guys are members these days.

All of the boxers were ushered into a room where few chairs were available. Mike and Erin were in attendance, and they sat on the floor most of the time. The doctor who checked the guys beforehand wasn't even given a table to put his things on.

I only watched three of the seven fights that took place, including JJ's since I was working his corner. Too much cigar smoke in the room. I watched one guy take puff after puff, blowing it out in the air, like a kid who was able to do something he had been forbidden to do for a little while. One guy came up to JJ after he was suited up and said, "You gonna win your fight? You gonna do it for me, baby? I'm gonna put a 'G' on you!"

JJ won, but the fight was a squeaker. Steve kept telling JJ not to hesitate. We don't know why JJ always waits for the other guy to do something before he reacts. JJ had his mouthpiece knocked out during the second round, and Steve and I rushed to get it back and rinse it off so the round could continue. JJ didn't do so well in that round, but roared back during the middle of the third round. The guy who had bet money on him was pleased. "Got a 'G' in my pocket thanks to you!" he told JJ afterwards.

What irritated me the most during JJ's match were the ring card girls. Steve and I could barely get the stool and the bucket in between rounds because those chicks were entering and exiting via our corner. Ring card girls are extremely unnecessary.