Weekend of Fights

This past Friday night, I went down to the UIC Pavilion to watch a series of professional fights presented by 8 Count Productions.  Most were there to see hometown favorite Donovan "Da Bom" George take on Osumanu Adama in a super welterweight  match.  George's fight was televised live on Showtime's "ShowBox: The Next Generation".  It was a tough match.  Adama put tons of pressure on George, who appeared to not know how to approach his opponent early on.  No matter what shots George put out there, Adama kept advancing and backing George up.  Evenutally, George's firepower returned, and he took it to Adama, especially during the last round.  George won an unanimous decision.

Too bad a lot of people didn't stick around for the last fight of the evening.  It was an exercise in technical skill between Marcus "Too Much" Johnson and Derek Edwards.  Nothing flashy, just two guys measuring each other up and thinking about how and when they were going to deal out punches.

Another crowd pleasing fight was the fourth one.  Andrzej Fonfara from Poland went up against Roger Cantrell for the WBC Youth World Light Heavyweight Championship.  Fonfara lit up Cantrell with a lot of jabs to the body and the head.  After Fonfara knocked Cantrell against the ropes and down to the canvas one minute and one second into the fourth round, the referee stopped the contest.

Antonio Tarver joined Nick Charles and Steve Farhood at the commentator's table.  MMA star Darren Aronosky was also in attendance.

Last night was the Mayweather-Mosley fight.  I saw that at the Webster Place Theater.  After dealing with ticket takers who acted as if they didn't know the superfight was taking place, and bored looking concession stand staff, I settled into theater number seven to watch the spectacle.  There were a few of us in the audience who were pulling for Mosley.  A big cheer went up when he busted Mayweather in the face with a right.  "Money" teetered then got his balance back.  Unfortunately, Mosley would never get the chance to embarrass Mayweather again. 

The HBO commentators rightly said that Mosley looked like he was sleep walking.  Looking worn and breathing hard, "Sugar" plodded around the ring, and Mayweather did his usual play it safe defense routine.  Mosley's trainer, Naazim Richardson, sounded like he was going to stop the fight if Mosley didn't get some life into himself.  Roger Mayweather, over in the other corner, was cool as he called Mosley the MF word and encouraged his nephew to stay on course.  Mosley needed to knock Mayweather out, but like Richardson pointed out, Mosley kept looking for a perfect opening to do so.  It never came.

If it wasn't enough that some fans were disappointed -- and bored -- about another Mayweather victory, the champion once again declared that Pacquiao would never get a match unless bood tests were done.  I don't get this.  Mayweather never required that out of anyone before Pacquiao.  I suppose he had to demand that Mosley take the tests because of Mosley's admitted steroid use, and the fact that he had made a big deal of Pacquiao having to agree to testing. 

Before I got my tickets, I overheard a yuppy-like woman telling her two trendy friends after seeing a poster for the fight, "I don't care to see that."  I got a bit offended at her tone.  She was a stick who needed to eat a few steak sandwiches and some cake so that the wind wouldn't blow her away.  Probably couldn't fight her way out of a paper bag in a dark room.  Good thing that she got out of the way so the true fight fans could get through.

A Short Woman's Well Placed Shot

Joe grinned, "You had him up against the ropes!"  Alan and I sparred for two rounds.  I caught him a couple of times with a right, but I didn't realize how potent one of them was.  "You got me good that one time," Alan would say later on.    Alan usually leaves his left jaw open, and I have gotten him there a few times when I've sparred with him.  I guess I put in a real hard shot that time.  Alan and I ended up sparring because Earleatha decided not to do so.  "I'm taking a break," she said. 

Of course, he got in a good one, too, a jab that caught me in the mouth.  Mouthpieces are good things, you know.  "I just flicked it out there.  It wasn't hard," he said after it was all over with.  "Oh, yes it was," I laughed.  It slowed me down for a moment. 

Larry, a new guy, came in and sparred with Victor.  Alan stopped it when Larry got tired and was not returning Victor's relentless punches.  Victor had pinned Larry up against the ropes. 

Neither Carlos nor Jamil was in last night.  I remembered Carlos saying he had to work the late shift at his job this week  I'm not sure what happened with Jamil.  Demond, Patrick, Toya, Stacy, Cynthia. . . .all no shows.  Neville came in, and Alan didn't recognize him at first.  "Yes, he's signed up.  He just hasn't been in here for awhile," I told Alan. 

I'm going to see the Mayweather-Mosley fight later this week at a local movie theater.  "Aw, man, I have to be up at the military school with my son that day.  I'm going to have to find a bar nearby to watch it," Alan said.  It ought to be a good match, depending on all the trash talking that's been going on.  The best was when Mosley and Oscar de la Hoya were on George Lopez's talk show.  Mosley said he was going to knock Mayweather out.  Lopez gave the two men a pair of blue Everlast boxing shoes to deliver to Mayweather.  On the bottom soles of the shoes was the "Lopez Tonight" logo.  "When Mayweather is laid out, I can get some promotion for my show," Lopez grinned.

Besides being on HBO's "24/7" (where he made the outrageous claim of being a better pugalist than Ali or Sugar Ray Robinson), Mayweather has also been seen on "What Chili Wants", a reality show on VHI.  Mayweather has been friends with Chili, who is part of the girl group TLC, for years.  The show focuses on Chili trying to find love with the help of a matchmaker.  Mayweather acts like he likes her, and Chili is willing to see if their friendship can turn into a relationship.  In the episode I saw last night, Mayweather stood Chili up for a dinner date.  Not cool. 

Scrapbook of Scrapping

The crowd was light Wednesday night.  Earleatha, Patrick, Stacy, Toya, Eric and Demond were not in attendance. Cynthia didn't come in, but Matt did.  She sent along a holder with him to keep my mouthpiece in.  It's great because it allows air to circulate around it, unlike the case it originally came in. 

Carlos did his usual several rounds, including a couple with Alan.  Alan caught Carlos dead-on with a few overhand rights.  What really amazed him was when Carlos took a few hard body shots and didn't flinch.  "I expected him to go down, but it seemed they didn't affect him at all," Alan said after the bell rang. 

I found myself sparring a couple of rounds with Ralphie.  Before I put my gear on, Matt asked who I was going to spar with.  I didn't know at that moment.  Ralphie was in with Carlos, and Alan hadn't decided who would remain in the ring for me.  "Ralphie's very slick, and Carlos just keeps charging," I told Matt.  "I think you're slick.  I've seen you on the heavy bags.  You have some secret punches," Matt smiled.  He had been in the ring with Jeremy earlier.  The experience wasn't bad for him, but Matt had trouble with the idea of punching someone back.  "I'm a pacifist, and it's hard to get my mind around inflicting pain on someone else," he admitted.

Jumping rope more has been helping with my stamina.  When I sparred with Earleatha on Monday, I wasn't as tired as I usually am afterwards.  I didn't sputter out during the first round with Ralphie.  I was exhausted after the second round, so I need to jump rope more.  I've caught yet another cold today, but I think I'm going to move around in the church's gym anyway, if only for a short time.  I don't want to get out of the habit of exercising extra days -- again.

Alan brought in a envelope filled with pictures and clips from when he fought as a young man while attending college in Arizona.  Alan was basically built the same way he is now, but he had hair and a full mustache.  "You were good looking," I grinned.  Ralphie laughed and said, "Alan had that John Holmes thing going on," making a reference to the popular porn actor of the 1970's.  Back in the day, shirts and headgear were not requirements in the amateur ranks.  There were many pictures of Alan fighting bare-headed and bare chested.  He had a chance to go pro, but as he was still going to school at the time, his parents frowned on the idea.  Alan thought about resuming a run for the professional ranks when he returned to Chicago after college.  "I was too late.  I had a solid reputation built up in Arizona, but I would have had to start again from scratch here," he explained.

Sparring With Another Newbie

Jamil was in the ring with Ralphie last night.  Ralphie is quick, and a fast hook nearly caught Jamil.  It connected, but at the same moment, Jamil slipped and fell against the ropes.  If he had absorbed the full effect of the hook, Jamil might have been very hurt.  Victor got in a series of non-stop hits on Ralphie when he caught him against the ropes during their sparring session.  The sparring man of the evening was Carlos, who did five or six rounds with different guys who were on hand.  It appears that his stamina is back. 

I heard Earleatha, one of the new people, tell another newbie, Donald, "I might as well get it out of the way," in reference to sparring.  She asked me ahead of time if I was going to hit hard.  "When somebody hasn't sparred before, or they say they've never been in a fight in their life, that's my cue to go light," I answered.  That's not to say that she didn't get some stinging shots in.  The first one was in my left eye.  She backed up, her gloves up to her mouth.  "Ooh, I'm sorry," she said.  "It's fine," I said.  "Go ahead, you're supposed to hit back," Alan instructed her. Donald watched with interest from the sidelines.

During the second round, Earleatha got in some hits to my stomach, but mainly, she was head hunting.  I enouraged her to keep going.  By the time that round ended, she was dead tired.  "It's something else, especially when somone keeps coming at you," she said.  That's how I often get in trouble, when somone continually rushes me like a bull, like Meg did during our second Park District fight.  The trick is to not get overwhelmed, but keep putting out a lot of punches and for goodness sake, move.

"Are the Golden Gloves over?"  Pastor Roger asked me Monday morning.  "Yes, but the show fights are ongoing, and the Chicago Park District tournament season starts soon," I told him.  There are lulls between fights, but there's never a cessation period. 

This morning, I stopped at Starbucks to get a little breakfast.  One of the clerks commented on my boxing hat, the red one that Steve gave me about two years ago.  "Stacy, one of the the people that works here, started going to a boxing gym," she said.  "I know -- she goes to the same gym that I do," I smiled.  "Cool!  I like your hat," the clerk replied.  Stacy wasn't in the gym last night.  I hope she comes in tomorrow.

Oh My Aching Extremities

This morning, I stopped at Starbucks to get something to eat before running off to the rest of the day.  Stacy was behind the counter.  She did mention to us down at the gym that she worked at Starbucks.  I was surprised to see her at that particular location.  She said she wasn't at the gym the night before because she took a nap and didn't wake up in time.

Last night, Eric walks in with the black eye he got courtesy of Jamil.  "My wife jinxed me before I came here Monday.  She told me, 'Don't come back with a black eye', and that's what I did."  Eric moves very well on his feet, but Jamil is becoming more confident with throwing his punches.  

I only lasted one round with Carlos Wednesday night.  "You hit hard in the beginning, but then you slow down.  You have to take a step back from time to time and remember to breathe," he told me.  "You usually do two or three rounds," Alan pointed out to me, and Carlos agreed with him.  I was disappointed with myself for the loss of stamina.  Another light bulb went off this afternoon while I was shadow boxing in the church's gym.  I seldom, if ever, move my head while sparring.  I take too many punches which wears me down as well. 

Alan took a shot from Carlos' right hand while they sparred.  It rocked Alan, and he was unsteady on his feet.  "I recovered, but it was after those initial 30 seconds," Alan told me later. Demond also took a hit -- from Carlos, I believe -- that nearly stopped him.  He shook it off eventually and continued. 

My feet, ankles and knees hurt right now, but I needed that workout at church today.  I've been pushing myself to jump rope more.  I did six rounds of using the speed rope today.  I'm thinking I should do 15 minutes of jumping rope, even when I'm down at Loyola Park. 

I ran into Sam today.  He used to train under Barry.  He had been crossing my mind a lot lately.  I had heard awhile ago that Sam had been in some trouble with the police.  He has a job now, and he looked like he was doing okay.  It was very good to see him. 

Going Easy and Light

My new MP3 player made me late.  It was on sale at Kmart, and it has the capacity to hold 1000 songs.  I couldn't pass it up.  I was fooling around putting songs on it, and the computer was acting crazy, so I left the house later than usual.  When I got there, Jamil finally had my camera card to return to me.  "I'm sorry for keeping it for so long.  I kept forgetting it," he said.  It was no big deal. I still need to figure out why it'll tape videos, but not upload them to You Tube easily.

Since Stacy had a mouthpiece, Alan asked if she wanted to move around with me in the gym.  Stacy was hyped up for it, but I was a little worried.  I remember giving Maggie a TKO, and I was going light with her.  It was like Bam Bam hugging his dad Barney and accidentally bruising him.  I tagged Stacy in the middle and in the head with jabs, rights and hooks, but I was landing as soft as I could.  We did one round.

Eric and Jamil sparred, and the experience involved Jamil getting a low blow and Eric getting a black eye.  Matt was amazed.  "You should get in the ring," Eric told him, but Matt said he's not ready for that yet.  Stacy, still hyped from sparring, suggested that Cynthia should go in, too.  "Hell, no!  Not ready for that," she said.

I also moved around in the ring for a couple of rounds with Toya, who is taller than I.  Just like with Stacy, I went easy.  I threw in some uppercuts, but I made sure they didn't connect hard.  Alan kept instructing her to hit back, just like he did when Stacy and I were in the ring. 

Matt told me he was impressed with how I jumped rope.  I basically jump the same way I did when I was five years old.  I have learned to jump with my right leg only, but that's about as fancy as I get.  During the first season of the reality show, "The Contender", there was a scene where Sugar Ray Leonard was showing the younger boxers how he jumps rope.  Leonard is in his 50s, but he could still out jump everyone.  I would love to learn how to jump like him.

Weekend Wars

Friday night, Myra Ramirez faced Brittany Brown in an 108 pound female novice bout.  I was surprised at how tiny Ramirez was.  She had to look up to Brown.  However, that little woman threw some hard punches.  Brown kept making the mistake of being pushed against the ropes and in the corners.  Ramirez fired on her with a flurry of hooks to the head that left Brown dizzy.  Brown kept walking into punches, and not using her jab to work her way in.  Ramirez was a burst of energy that Brown couldn't stop.  The crowd gave Ramirez a standing ovation when she won.

As per tradition, the bell was rang ten times in honor of a fallen boxer.  The boxer honored was Francisco Rodriguez, who passed away from injuries sustained in the ring the past fall.  I have seen the bell rang for deceased boxers and others associated with the sport on TV many times.  It is something else to be there in person.  Fundraising efforts continue to go on for Rodriguez's family.

My buddy Paul faced a fellow teammate from Chicago Boxing where he trains.  His opponent was throwing punches all over the place.  Paul got cool on him and picked his spots to punch.  Paul won, and he was also awarded a trophy for being the best boxer at the Golden Gloves. 

Before Paul's fight, professional boxer Carl "Iron Fist" Davis presented a trophy to the winner of the previous bout.  Davis used to work at the agency where I was laid off from.  We didn't know each other well, but I remember having some brief conversations with him about boxing.

Tiffany Perez, the Olympic contender, did not disappoint in her match on Saturday night.  She moves and punches like a guy.  She's also a short, petite woman who packs a lot of power in her punches.  I shook her hand and congratulated her on her win afterwards.

Some guys sitting near me that night had some kind of betting scheme going on.  I overheard one guy explain it to the others, but I couldn't figure it out.  It is not uncommon for gambling to go on at the Gloves.  I was gambling myself, so to speak.  Spent twenty dollars on the 50/50 raffle.  Tina, one of the announcers, saw me with the tickets.  "You ready to win again?" she grinned.  I let my greed get the best of me, and I lost.  Oh well. . .it's back to buying scratch off Illinois Lottery tickets once in awhile.  The correct name of the professional boxer who helped me up to the ring when I won the raffle the other night is Angel "Toro" Rodriguez.  He's scheduled to fight Peter Manfredy Jr., of "Contender" fame.

Antonio, the MMA fighter, presented the trophy to the winner after the 2nd bout.  Johnny Lira, a former professional boxer who was once ranked number one in the world, also presented a trophy.  He happened to hear Jonny B. and I talking about the failed Mayweather-Pacquiao fight.  "Mayweather knows he could lose, that's why the fight didn't take place," Lira commented.  I recently read an article in The Ring magazine that basically said the same thing.

The best fight on Saturday night was a heavyweight match that was the last bout of the evening as well as of the tournament.  The two men were like Godzillas, throwing bombs and bashing each other.  I usually don't go for heavyweight bouts much because I think guys that big move too slow to make things exciting.  But that was an extremely good match.

Lucky Thursday Ticket

I went to the Golden Gloves last night to view the first set of final championship bouts.  Natalie, who has sparred at Loyola along with gym mate with Chloe, sang the National Anthem.  She's a trained opera singer, and she sounded fine. 

After changing my seat to distance myself from an annoying family group, I got down to paying attention to the matches.  Chloe fought, as did Ed Brown of Garfiled Park who beat our Ed Brown of Loyola Park during the preliminary bouts.  I was wondering how Brown pulled off his win.  He spent a whole lot of time waiting on his opponent, a guy named Johnson out of Chicago Boxing Club.  His fan club never stopped believin', however.  They yelled and screamed instructions to Brown the entire time.  Chloe went the distance in her fight, but ultimately lost on points.  She introduced me to her friends as her sparring buddy. 

Earlier in the day, I worked out for an hour and a half in the gym of Rogers Park Baptist Church.  The choir has a good boom box, and I kicked the volume up to ten to play my CDs.  Of course, I would have been scrambling to turn down the sound if Pastor Roger came in.  I'm sure the man would like to have worked upstairs in his office without hearing RUN DMC downstairs bellowing, "I'm the King of Rock/There is none higher/Sucker MCs should call me sire/I won't stop rockin' until I retire!"  It was a good workout.  I went upstairs to take a shower after I was done, and I had a strange thought:  "This is the first time I've been naked in church."  I remember reading the novel Fear of Flying by Erica Jong when I was in junior high or high school. . .I can't remember which.  If you are familiar with that novel, you know it's probably something that people under 18 years of age should not read.  There was a scene between the heroine and one of her boyfriends that had them alone in an empty synagogue. . . .you can probably guess what was up.  I've heard of folks engaging in similar activity in empty churches in real life.  Some people have no shame or fear of God apparently.

Throughout the boxing tournament, a 50/50 raffle has been running.  The objective is to raise money for youth boxing programs.  I played a couple of other times, but I wasn't successful until last night.  It was a little over $100, a nice piece of pocket money.  As I walked up the ring steps to claim my prize, a professional boxer named Angel was coming out from the ring.  He had just presented a trophy to the boxer who won the previous match.  I was a little unsteady, as I always seem to be on those type of steps, and he graciously helped me up.

Diego came over to shake my hand.  That's one kid that has great manners.  I guess he saw me sitting across the way.  He was there with his parents. 

I picked up the finals program, and Paul's fight was listed as a featured fight for tonight.  Tiffany, the 4"11 boxer who is going to try to get into the 2012 Summer Olympics, got a full page highlighting her accomplishments.  There are a couple of photos of Carlos in the program, as well.  One shows him watching as the boxer he fought against in the prelims is announced the winner.  The other shows him and Alan in the corner during one of the rest periods in that same fight.

"I Like This!"

"I like this!" Stacy, another new person in the gym, kept commenting this past Wednesday night.  It seemed like she was meant to come into the gym.  Friends of hers kept buying her boxing equipment long before she considered taking up the sport.  Stacy figured she might as well look into it.

The gym was busy again that evening.  John, the attorney, came in to work out.  I thought I heard him asking Alan about sparring.  Alan pointed to the attenance roster and said, "I need your name on this list first."  I told John that I was planning to return to school to be a paralegal.  "It's a tough market in law right now," he told me.  "Some attorneys are hiring themselves out at $25.00 an hour to do paralegal work for other attorneys."

I spent an early part of the evening showing technique to both Cynthia and Stacy.  When Alan asked if I was going to spar, I turned it down because I felt I hadn't warmed up enough.  Doing a warm-up before any workout is important, but even more so the older one becomes.  Some of the damage I experience now -- arthritis in particular -- might be because I wasn't diligent about doing a warm-up. 

"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. 

Most Show Up

Last night, most of the ones on the attendance list came to the gym.  Of the few who didn't appear, I noticed most were women.  I sighed to myself. 

Demond (got his name right from Monday night) came in again, along with Eric and 6 foot 4 Patrick.  I didn't catch the names of most of the other new people, except for Diana.  Alan had gone over some basics with the new people and then sent them out to practice in the mirrors and on the bags.  "I don't want to spar," Diana told me.  She does want to build up strength in her arms.  I told her that boxing would definately help with that. 

Carlos and I sparred, and I tried to get some uppercuts in.  I was on the inside, but he covers up very well.  I couldn't break through his defense.  I did get some good left and right hooks in on his head, however.  I hadn't been able to do that on anyone in a long, long time.  My straight lefts and rights went nowhere.  Carlos was very adapt at slipping those.  I had to settle for ocassionally getting hooks in to his body. 

I commented that Carlos' Energizer Bunny stamina must be coming back, after he went several rounds with Ralphie.  They both worked in some good head shots on each other. 

This morning I went into to work to take care of stuff for Easter this Sunday.  It ocurred to me that it's April Fools Day, and I hadn't pulled any jokes of that type in years.  While walking to church, I racked my brain for a joke to pull on Pastor Roger.  I was going to plaster my face with bandages and pretend that I had been badly banged up in the gym.  Then I got a better idea.

I heard him coming in the door downstairs.  Quickly, I hurried into his office and laid face down on the floor, giving the impression that I had collapsed.  He walked into his office, and called my name several times.  I didn't move.  While in high school, I was often complimented on my ability to play as if I had fainted or I had died in theater classes.  When it sounded as if Pastor had grabbed his phone to call the ambulance (and he had also called for Olga, who was in church at the time, to rush into his office), and sat up and grinned "April Fools!"  "That wasn't nice," Pastor said, but he was grinning. 

Easy First Night of the Session

Three new guys: Devon (I'll get his name right soon), Patrick, and Eric came in for the first evening of the Spring session.  After Carol and BK struggled with the uncooperative gym door -- which often sticks -- all were able to enter the gym.

As for the guys who normally come in, only Carlos showed up.  He had been debating whether or not to do so, since everyone knew Alan was going to be absent last night.  No coach means no sparring, which is probably why the other guys didn't come in.  But Carlos figured he'd get in some time on the bags anyway. 

I went over general rules of the gym with the new guys, then showed them the basic stance, how to throw lefts and rights, and how to move.  They all thanked me at the end of the evening.  "I hope it was helpful.  I think Alan explains it better," I said.  Patrick replied, "I didn't know anything about boxing, so it was fine."  Sometimes, I feel so tongue-tied and scatterbrained when I'm explaining boxing technique to others.  That's why I always listed to Steve in the past and now, Alan, everytime I heard it being explained to someone else.  In fact, the speech I give about the general rules of the gym is very close to what Steve used to tell new people. 

The evening went smoothly with no out-of-pocket incidents.  A couple of guys came and stood in the door earlier, but we talked about Mayweather, Mosely, Pachiao, and Roy Jones, Jr.  They were just curious about the gym, and they left after a few minutes.  I was very glad that Jordan didn't make another appearance.  I wasn't in the mood to go back and forth with him about gym protocol.

Alan's Shiner

"That doesn't look good," I said to Alan, when he walked in sporting a black eye yesterday.  It was a result of sparring with Sadiq on Monday night.  Alan said that his wife wasn't happy to see his eye like that at all.  "I know she wasn't," I grinned.  I learned later that Alan and his wife had been high school sweethearts.  She had been his first girlfriend.  They broke up at one point, but years later, found their way back to each other.

Alan had put headgear on, and he was ready to spar with Jamil.  As if on cue, Carlos walked in.  "Since he's here, you can go with him," Alan said to Jamil.  Alan said something about having a chance to heal.  I told him that I needed to heal as my excuse for not sparring that night.  That scrape on my left leg from when a wooden riser fell on it still hurts.  My right elbow has been sore for a couple of weeks, and I just was feeling out of sorts.  "Maybe we both need to take up golf," Alan smiled. 

Using my digital camera and a new memory card, I recorded Carlos and Jamil sparring.  Carlos hit Jamil once too many times in the mid-section.  After the third time, Jamil turned his back and retreated one side of the ring.  He didn't complete the round.  Alan stepped in with a punch shield to work with Carlos on punches.

Ralphie came in later in the evening. His upper back had been bothering him, and that kept him out of the Golden Gloves.  But he announced that he was feeling better.  

I stopped into church this afternoon to check to see if I had received some Esperanto material I had ordered. People wonder why I would bother studying an artificial language that appears to be not as popular as Spanish, Chinese, French, etc.  I've been interested in it since 2002, but I haven't been as diligent as studying it as I should have.  I really want to learn how to speak a language, but I digress.  Pastor was telling me about a middle-aged couple in church who are looking forward to having their first child.  "Maybe you'll marry a guy with children," Pastor said.  "I don't want to be a step-mama," I said.  "The guy may have grown children, so you'll be more like a friend to his kids.  Who knows?  Maybe the guy will have daughters to who you can teach boxing," Pastor grinned.  "My niece Jalissa has said she'd like to get married and have kids someday.  I could teach her kids how:  'Let your grand-aunt show you how to throw a punch,' " I said. 

Old Men and An Old Thorn

I was filling up the water bottles at the fountain when I looked up to see Jordan walking into the field house.  My first thought was, "Oh, hell no."  Those of you who have been reading for awhile remember that Jordan was a thorn in mine and Steve's side for awhile.  A friend was tagging behind him.  I quickly finished what I was doing and hurried back down to the gym.  Alan had to be warned.

He hadn't been inside the room for five minutes when he started hitting the heavy bag with no wraps on, as usual.  His friend stood to one side and looked everyone over. Alan was in a conversation with Joe, who was waiting for Chloe to arrive.  I heard Jordan ask Alan about getting a workout in, unaware that the days of freebies is over for the most part.  Alan told him he had to sign up at the front desk.  In what looked like a vain attempt to impress his friend and maybe the others who were there, Jordan pulled down a jump rope.  He only skipped a few times before going back to the heavy bag.  "You do remember the rules about not hitting the heavy bag without hand wraps on, right?" I said evenly.  Jordan gave me a look that I guess was supposed to intimidate as well as impress.  It accomplished neither.  "I can take it," he said, as he went back to hitting it.  "That's not the point.  It tears the bag up," I said in a murderously calm tone.  Seeing that he wasn't going to get anywhere that night, Jordan and his friend left.  Later, I gave Alan the 411 about Jordan's issues.

During the second round that Chloe and I sparred, I found myself becoming nauseous.  It couldn't have been the mouthpiece.  I've finally gotten used to having it in my mouth after all these years.  I had gotten tired, Chloe was laying on the pressure, and suddenly, I wasn't feeling so hot.  Bless her heart, Chloe told me she would go easy, and we finished the round.  "You really gave an old lady a run," I grinned.  Chloe's going straight to the Golden Gloves finals.  She was supposed to have a semi-final fight, but her opponent got pregnant.  "I've never had that happen before with a fight," Joe said.

Sadiq came in, and it was good to see him.  He wants to get another boxing license, which will be his third.  The first was stolen, along with his bag, out of the gym a few years ago.  The second one he used to participate in a show fight, but he never got it back.

Sadiq and Alan sparred, and somewhere along the way, the two men decided to throw bombs at each other.  Alan hit the canvas at one point.  "Are you okay?" I asked from the other side of the ropes.  "It was a slip," Alan said.  Sadiq then got Alan in the face with a couple of solid punches.  When Alan removed his headgear, he discovered he had a mouse under his eye.  "That's going to look real good walking into work with.  It's really going to be something to come home with, and my wife sees it.  She's going to say, 'And how old are you?  Why were you sparring?' " he grinned.

I was accepted as a writer with the Examiner (http://www.examiner.com), so now I've got to figure out what boxing stories to write.  The account of Carlos' Golden Gloves fight will probably be the first article, and I have ideas for the ones to follow.

Anthony and I were the last boxers in the gym at the end of the night.  Alan told us about a traffic incident he was involved in that nearly turned ugly.  Despite the fact that words were exchanged, Alan would have let it go.  But then the other guy said something along the lines of, "You think you're bad?  Bring it on, Pops!"  Some younger men don't get that calling a guy an old man is akin to starting a war.  I heard comedian Steve Harvey on the radio telling a story about a young blood attempting to challenge him.  "My hands may be old, but they still know how to put a hurting on someone," Harvey spat. 

"That's all he called you?  You know how many names I've been called over the years?"  Anthony said, and both he and I fell out laughing.  "I know I shouldn't have let it get to me, but I just don't like being called that," Alan grinned.  Fortunately, the other guy walked away from Alan before any actual punches were thrown.  I would have paid to see that, if it had jumped off.  My money would have been on Alan.  

Friday Night Out

The best fight of the night at the Golden Gloves yesterday was the 14th one.  During the first round, there was clearly an underdog.  Then the underdog decided they were going to be as dominant as their opponent.  The bout turned into an out-and-out brawl, which included both boxers throwing each other to the canvas several times.  The night before, I had written about Carlos' fight and submitted it as a writing sample to the Chicago Examiner.  "This is the fight you should have written about," Alan told me.  The crowd rose to their feet several times during that fight. 

There were high hopes for Young Ed's fight, where he ended up fighting the guy from Garfield Park who has the exact same name he does.  The fight was the fourth of the night, and Young Ed appeared very confident, giving fast punches to his opponent.  But a nasty surprise showed up less than a minute into the first round.  The Garfield Park boxer knocked Young Ed to the canvas with a right hand so quick that most barely saw it land.  Anthony was sitting to my left along with John and Carlos, and Alan was sitting to my right.  JJ was sitting further down on the row.  All of us were stunned.  Young Ed was shaky when he got up, but appeared to recover by the time the referee, "Gentleman" Gerald Scott,  got to him.  But the referee waved his hands in the air to stop the fight.  We all agreed that the fight was stopped too fast.

John and St. Louis had to wait a long time to fight.  John's fight was number 22 and St. Louis was number 24 on the fight roster.  "Shit!  I have to wait a long fucking time," John exclaimed. He ended up going back out to get something to put on his stomach.  John called his girlfriend and asked her to come down to St. Andrew's around 10:00 PM.  We estimated that's when he probably would fight. 

Before John's fight, Alan pulled a business card out of his pocket.  "I don't have my glasses with me, so I can't read it," he said, handing it to me.  It was for a strip club.  Alan pointed out the woman who gave it to him.  I had seen her in the woman's washroom earlier, preening in the mirror with a friend of hers. Both women looked as if they worked at the club. "You don't need this," I joked, acting as if I was not going to give the card back.  Alan put it back in his pants pocket.  "I'd like to read it later on," he grinned.

It was actually after 10:30 PM when that match took place.  I worked the corner for John's fight, the first time I have worked anyone's corner as a coach.  The match barely got rolling when John got into trouble.  "Shit, he got an eight count," I thought to myself.  "Keep your hands up!  You have to punch, John!" Alan barked.  It wasn't long before "Gentleman" Gerald gave him another eight count after John's opponent continued to put the heat on him.  Normally, the only person in the boxer's corner who is supposed to be talking is the coach.  However, at one point, I was calling out a warning to John after he took some punishing shots.  John bent over near the ropes and didn't return punches.  His opponent set off a barrage of hooks to his head.  The referee stopped it.  "Damn", I thought.  John took the loss well.  His girlfriend, a pretty Asian woman, hugged and kissed him after the bout. 

During St. Louis' fight, Anthony was of the opinion that St. Louis appeared to look sharper while sparring in the gym.  "It happens that all the time when all the stuff picked up in sparring gets forgotten when one is in a real match," I said.  Carefully constructed game plans in the gym often get blown away by the opponent's agenda. St. Louis was popped a few times, and he popped back.  Then he got winded.  There was a lot of clinching going on.  When the dust cleared, St. Louis had lost.  St. Louis is signed up at Loyola Park, but he fought under Joe's organization, which is Go Time.  We count St. Louis as our own, so when he lost, that meant everyone from Loyola was out of the tournament. 

Several guys sitting behind me commented on a couple of the later fights.  A boxer during one bout made the mistake of coming out of his corner angry.  He kept leaping at his opponent, who met his actions with well-timed punches each time.  A boxer in the second fight thought his build would carry him to a win.  When he lost, the guy sitting directly behind me told his buddies,  "See, that pretty muscle shit don't work all the time."  I turned to look at him, and he apologized, thinking I was offended by his choice of words.  "Oh, no, you're right," I told him.     
 
The announcers pointed out a few celebrities in the audience.  There was a 95-year-old who won the Golden Gloves back in 1934, plus professional boxer David Estrada.  Estrada previously fought "Sugar" Shane Mosley, and he'll appear on ESPN's "Friday Night Fights" sometime in April.  The Pope, a hip-hop/dance recording artist, was also in attendance.  "Who's that?" Alan asked.   "You don't listen to rap or hip-hop," I smiled.  "No, only talk radio and easy listening," Alan grinned.

"But You're Too Pretty To Box!"

Things in the gym seem to intensify around the time of the Golden Gloves.  Even those of us who aren't in the tournament appear to step up our training.  Alan and I sparred, and he kept telling me to go for his head.    Outside of the fact that he's taller than I, I don't know why I kept aiming for his shoulders.  Maybe it's a mental thing I have about hitting people in the face.  I never seemed to have a problem doing that when I was younger during fights with my siblings and kids on the street. 

Earlier today, I went to talk with an administrator at DePaul University about taking a paralegal course.  It's been two years since I was laid off of my job at the social service agency as of this month.  There is zero desire to be a secretary/administrative assistant again.  The time has long been past for me to make a career change.  I had a very pleasant and informative visit with the administrator.  He noticed I was wearing a boxing hoodie.  I explained that I boxed, and he was floored.  "But, but. . .you're too pretty to box!" he exclaimed.  Now I've had others tell me the usual stuff like, "You can get hurt!", but that was a new one on me.  I was tickled.

Tonight was finally Carlos' turn to box at the Gloves.  He was still fighting the cold that seems to have plagued him for weeks.  He thought he might have picked it up at the barbershop where he gets his hair cut.  Carlos' fight came up rather quick after the third, fifth and sixth fights of the evening all ended by stoppage.  His opponent was a guy who looked to be about 6 foot 2.  Carlos is 5 foot 8.  John volunteered to help Alan in the corner.

Both guys were equally aggressive in the first round.  Carlos got some good hooks to the body.  It looked as if he was going to cut the guy down to size by doing those.  His opponent, Matt, hunted for Carlos's head during the second round.  Carlos remained focused on Matt's body.  Carlos looked hesitant.  Later, he would say that he was winded from the first round.  There was a lot of holding going on.  As soon as Carlos would go in for the inside shots, Matt would grab Carlos and smother him.  The holding continued throughout the third round, where Carlos didn't throw many punches.  The win went to Matt.

"I failed," Carlos said afterwards.  "Well, you got the nervous energy out," I told him.  Carlos plans to lose weight -- he's 195 pounds -- because he thinks he would do better at a lighter weight. 


 

Skin Off My Leg

Joe came in and brought Chloe with him.  Natalie couldn't come with them because she was ill.  Chloe and Joe worked the pads until it was time for me to spar with her.  Chloe was really laying on the punches.  Afterwards, she apologized to me for going hard.  "I understand.  You've got a fight coming up at the Gloves," I said.  No offense taken.  "I'll be back in a couple of weeks hopefully with a win," she said.  I believe she has a great chance of winning.

After sparring, I was contending with the odd shaped black speed bag.  I don't like using that particular bag, but I've been trying to get used to it.  Someone had readjusted the height of the speed bag platform.  Instead of struggling to get it back down to where I could reach the bag, I opted to stand on one of the two blue steps in the gym.  Right below the bag were a couple of small wooden platforms.  I used to stand on those before the steps mysteriously appeared in the gym.  I guess the vibration of my hitting the speed bag was too much.  Either that, or the wooden platforms weren't stacked against the wall properly.  One of them fell and took a chunk of skin out of my left leg.

The open sore reminded me of a bad scrape I received on my left knee when I was in Kindergarten.  Ma came to pick me up from school that afternoon.  I hadn't figured out how to walk to school and back by myself at that point.  Instead of walking down the school steps normally, I decided to take a running leap.  Ma talked about me all the way to the A&P, which was the closest grocery store to our apartment.  "Look at at that!  That looks bad!" she snapped, as blood slowly ran down my leg and stained my sock. 

Luckily, I keep Band Aids and moist towelettes in my gym bag.  But I didn't have any cotton balls or tissues to stop the blood.  Usually there are paper towels in the gym, but none were to be found.  I wasn't about to use any of the old towels laying around.  Both Barry and Alan use those to wipe blood from the faces of the boxers.  I have no idea the last time any of those towels were washed -- if they get washed.  I found a tampon in my bag and used that.  Well. . .it does soak up blood.  If any of the guys recognized what I was using to tend to my wound, they didn't say anything.  I noticed a few minutes ago that the wound was oozing -- I know that doesn't sound pleasant -- so I cleaned it again and changed the Band Aid. 

"Carlos told me that he's sick," Alan said, shaking his head.  Carlos thought he might have picked up the ongoing sniffles from his five year old son.  His youngest son, who's a baby, is not around other kids most of the time, but Justin, who's in Kindergarten, is.  "It's probably due to germs from the other kids," Carlos said.  I hope he feels better by fight time this Thursday.

Another Postponement

Twenty fights took place yesterday at the Golden Gloves.  John was not one of the fighters.  Like Carlos the other night, John's time to fight has been put off until next week.  He was hoping his match would be on the same day that Carlos has his, but their fights are on different days.  Carlos is scheduled for this upcoming Thursday.  If Pastor and Virginia are able to attend the Gloves then, they'll get to see him fight.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Alan asked me.  "Not currently," I replied.  "You sure clean up well.  You could have been one of the ring girls," Alan grinned.  "I usually don't wear makeup often, but I figured I'd put some on tonight.  I'm surprised there are no ring girls here tonight," I smiled.  "They're probably saving them for the finals," Alan said.  Ring girls are unnecessary in my opinion.  The worst is when they appear at women's boxing matches.  There you have women in the ring taking care of serious business, then here come some half-dressed chicks parading around with signs.  It makes no sense.

I had been thinking about Antonio, the MMA fighter who used to come to Loyola Park to work on his boxing skills.  He was at the Gloves Saturday night; I didn't recognize him at first.  It was good to see him.  He's got a boxing match coming up in New York City soon.  He also has a MMA fight coming up soon here.  He trains at a gym up on Elston, which I will have to go and check out.  

Friday Night On Addison

Carlos was shaved clean.  He and Alan sat near the front entrance of St. Andrew's Gym.  I had been there for about a half-hour before I noticed them at the other end of the building.  "I just wish I could get it over with," Carlos said, referring to his fight.  "You're in there for about six minutes, but you have to wait two or three hours before you get into the ring," Alan commented. 

The familiar faces were in attendance: Rita, Percy, Ted, Tracy, JJ, Rico, Alan R., Mike Q., Gentleman Jim, Gino, Chupa, Sam, and many others.  I met a guy named Little John while we both waited on the Addison bus.  Little John had won the Gloves back in 1991.  Johnny B., a fight promoter, showed us his hands.  "See? I got into a fight on the street," he said.  "You're too old to fight," Alan said.  "That's what's the other guy thought," Johnny B. laughed. 

Bill, the coach at Hamlin, told me that he has another girl for me to fight.  "She's a total novice, unlike Meg," he told me.  After the two fights I had with Meg, this new girl may be easy pickings.  But it's never a good idea to underestimate any fighter. 

Sam told Alan that referees were in short supply.  There's a pro fight going on elsewhere this weekend, and it seems most of them will be officiating there.  Sam said, "I'm trying to get some of these retired boxers to become referees and judges."  Alan later told me, "The referees are a tight group to get into," which I figured they were.  I've only seen a woman ref a fight once, and that was at a Park District bout.  She didn't look as if she was an official referee, but someone who had been pressed into service at the last minute to replace someone else.

Ted posted the fights, but Carlos' name did not come up.  His fight date has been postponed until March 18th.  "You've got more time to train," I told him.  Carlos had been antsy all night, and he was a bit disappointed.  "I know, but I really wanted to go tonight," he said.  Carlos and Alan watched a few more of the fights, and then they cut out early.  I stuck around until the end.  The first four bouts of the evening all followed the same pattern.  One boxer would get a couple of eight counts, then the next time around, the fight would be stopped on them.  One boxer kept turning his back on his opponent, and the ref had seen enough. 

I believe the Addison bus going eastbound stops running after 9:30 PM, so I walked back to the Addison Red Line train stop.  When the train showed up, I wondered, "Why is it so packed?"  I had forgotten that people are out celebrating St. Patrick's Day this weekend.  Some obnoxious and most likely drunk guy on the car I stepped on decided he was going to be a welcome ambassador to the new passengers.  I and several other ignored him.  The partygoers on the train thought the guy was funny and indulged him.  Those of us who wanted to have a peaceful ride were happy when it was announced that the train was going express.  The riff-raff, no doubt on their way to bars, got off. 

Thursday's Tune Up For The Golden Gloves

Alan opened the gym last night in order for John and Carlos to get in some extra last minute training.  I was there, too.  I beat all three of them to the gym; the guys were late.

Carlos said his hand was bothering him, but that he hoped it would be okay.  He has a fight tonight at the Golden Gloves.  Carlos looked tired.  After going three rounds with John, he begged off going another around with me.  He didn't do bad, catching John in the side with a hard punch.

I got into the ring with John, and he was just doing enough to stay on his feet.  I ended up hitting him in the same spots where Carlos had.  John was beyond tired.  Alan reminded him during the time he was in with Carlos and then again with me that he has to pour on the effort.  Whoever John's opponent will be on Saturday will not take easy on him.  Taking it easy on others is not on the minds of any of the opponents once they get to the Gloves.

We were only in the gym for about 45 minutes, but that was a workout.  I had been hitting the heavy bags and the double-end bag roughly before I sparred with John.  I was very sweaty afterwards, and everything I had on had to go into the dirty clothes bag. 

Ribs and Sides

Carlos sparred with Alan for a couple of rounds then he sparred three rounds with John.  By the time I got into the ring with him, I thought Carlos was going to be easy pickings.  Nope.  While I did get in some good hooks and body shots, Carlos jammed me up against the ropes and in the corners.  Combinations were finding my head and sides. One punch cracked me right in the nose.

"Are you okay?" Carlos said, looking alarmed.  "I'm okay," I quickly answered, shaking off the sting and moving on.  I threw more punches than I had in a long time, but one round was enough.  "You're not as tired as you said you were," I told Carlos after the bell rang. After I got home, I felt a slight pain in my ribs on my left side. 

Alan had also sparred with Eddie, who gasped as he hung over the ropes between rounds.  "The cardio, man," he breathed. I felt his pain.

John's walking around weight is about 160, but he needs to get down to 155.  It sounded as if he'd been starving himself, but Alan advised him not to do that.  "Eat a little meat, eat salad and watch the dressing you put on it.  Leave the milk and pop alone.  Milk creates phlegm.  Cut out the bread, and watch the bananas -- they put on weight,' he said.

Alan told us a great story about when he met Muhammad Ali.  It was back in 1980.  Ali was coming out of the Drake Hotel with a entourage.  Alan was crossing the street towards them along with a buddy of his.  Ali caught his eye, put up his hands, and made like he wanted to box.  Alan put up his hands, too, and for about ten minutes, the two men playfully threw air punches at each other.  "Ali's handlers kept trying to get him to keep walking, but the two of us kept goofing around.  My friend just stood there, he was so starstruck.  It was a great moment," Alan said. 

As we were leaving for the evening, Alan stopped at the front desk to take care of some business.  "Jilberto thought something was going on because I drive you home all the time," Alan grinned.  I fell out laughing.  "No he didn't," I said.  Jilberto was coming down the hall after securing the back of the field house.  "What did I do?" he said.  Alan explained it to him, and Jilberto smiled. 

What Did Alan Say About Pizza?

Whenever Alan talks about how people should watch their diets, he always says, "You can eat pizza.  Just don't eat the whole damn pizza."  I hear his advice every time I order pizza.  Lately, I have been ignoring the advice.  He asked last night if I wanted to spar.  "I don't feel well.  I think it's the pizza I ate earlier," I said.  Alan shook his head.

The Academy Awards were on this past Sunday, and I always order food in on that night.  Domino's has been running a two-pizza special.  Normally, I don't eat Domino's, preferring the superior JB Alberto's pizza instead.  But the Domino's soft crust is not bad these days, and neither is the price.  I didn't eat all of the pizzas Sunday night, but I practically polished it off on Monday.  I ate the leftovers for lunch, and then again for a snack before I went to the gym.  The slices were talking to me by the time I got down to the gym.  I guess I could have woman'd up and sparred anyway, but I decided to err on the side of caution.

St. Louis and Young Ed have signed up for the Golden Gloves, too, I learned.  They got in their sparring time.  Once again, my back was turned to the ring, so I didn't see what ever hit Young Ed took that brought him to one knee.  

A bracket had been put out by Sam which broke down which weight classes would fight on what nights during the Golden Gloves preliminaries.  I left the copies I had printed out from the Internet at home, but fortunately, John brought a copy in.  An email was also sent by the tournament organizers letting people know about the dates of the tournament and the cost of the tickets.  It also had information about following the tournament on Twitter.  I forwarded a copy of that to Zach, Alex and Pastor.  The first night and the nights of the finals bouts are usually the most crowded. 

The fog that covered Chicago all day had gotten thicker by the time the evening was over.  Alan dropped me off on the corner up the street from my apartment.  As I stood there waiting for the light to change, the fog reminded me of all those old Universal Studios horror films I used to watch on "Creature Features" when I was a kid.  "Creature Features" was one of several horror movie shows that were a part of Chicago's local TV history; it used to air on Saturday nights on WGN.  As I walked down the block, I have expected Lon Chaney Jr. to jump out of the shadows in full Wolfman makeup.

They Reminisce Over You

I had taped the documentary Facing Ali (2009) when Spike TV showed it a couple of weeks ago.  This past Saturday, I finally got around to watching it.  I've seen plenty of news stories and other documentaries about Muhammad Ali, but this was the most heartfelt of the ones I've seen.  Ten boxers who faced Ali in the ring -- Joe Frazier, Henry Cooper, Ron Lyle, Earnie Shavers, George Foreman, Ernie Terrell, Leon Spinks, George Chuvalo, Ken Norton and Larry Holmes -- talk about the experience of fighting the man known as "the greatest of all time".


They also talk about how they feel about him.  Some did not agree with Ali's alliance with the Nation of Islam, and some were not cool with his anti-Vietnam War stance.  Terrell and Frazier, in particular, talk about how they didn't appreciate Ali insulting them before, during, and after their fights.  As time has gone by, a lot of the old grudges have faded, however.  Some of the boxers -- especially Chuvalo and Norton -- had some hard times after their fighting days were over.  But the boxers have ongoing respect and affection for Ali.  Frazier, in reference to Ali's current state of health, tears up when he expresses a wish that Ali "gets to live like we all live. . .he's earned it." 

This is a great documentary, that tells another side of Ali's story, from the perspective of his opponents.  

A Hit Below

Lately, it seems that I have missed seeing all of the rough hits that take place during sparring.  Carlos and John were in the ring last night.  I turned around to see John down on one knee.  At first, I thought he had been hit in the gut.  He finished the round, but staggered out of the ring, his face contorted in pain.  "Are you okay?" I asked.  He told me that Carlos hit him in the one spot where no man likes to be hit.

When I was in high school, I had a gym teacher who taught us a fast-paced game.  It was a cross between basketball and football, and we played with a soft, Nerf-like ball.  I was trying to get someone to pass the ball to me.  I swung one of my hands back and caught my friend Keith right in that spot.  "You trying to prevent me from having children?" he said, as he doubled over and backed away.  There is a reason why it is often suggested to guys to wear protective cups.

A new guy in the class, Victor, told me that he used to be a regular in the kids' boxing program when he was five years old.  "That's when Barry used to have hair," he said, and we both laughed.  Barry keeps his head shaved bald these days.  Victor is getting back into the game; he's now 18 years old.

Matt and Cynthia signed up for the Spring session, which doesn't begin for another two weeks.  They both are eager to start.  Cynthia told me that she plans to watch some of the fights at the Golden Gloves.

Carlos and I did interval training on the heavy bag.  He was laid out on the floor afterwards, while I felt energized.  It must have been that energy drink I had two hours before I got to the gym.  It really did the trick.

Jamil didn't sign up for the Gloves, so it looks as if Carlos and John are going to be the only two representatives from Loyola's adult boxing program.  I miss the days when we had four to five guys competing for titles at the Gloves.

I reminded Pastor Roger about considering coming out to the Gloves for his and Virginia's date night.  Too bad I'm not boxing in the tournament, but I might get to work the corners.  "Opening night is one of the best nights to be there because all of the boxers have to show up to be weighed in.  Plus, celebrities come in," I told Pastor.  Well, celebrities pop up at the Gloves the whole time the tournament is running.  Some are asked to hand out trophies, while others come in to take in the action with the rest of the crowd.  The celebrities are usually current professional boxers, former professional boxers, and former amateur champs, some of whom have gone on to be prominent in other fields.  I wonder if the tournament organizers would ever considering asking former Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich to hand out a trophy?  He did train as an amateur boxer and participated in the Gloves years ago.  It's true.

Boxing As Self Defense

About three years ago, a group of us from the gym were at a show fight that was held at a suburban country club.  Someone was talking about using boxing a self-defense method.  Another coach at the event said, "Oh, no, you don't want to rely on boxing for street fighting.  You'd rather use mixed martial arts for that."

Both mixed martial arts (MMA) and boxing have their advantages and disadvantages when it comes to defending against an opponent on the street.  One main disadvantage both fighting arts share is this:  if an opponent has a weapon, and you're not able to disarm them, the fight can become one-sided very quickly.  No amount of hand movements, fancy footwork or kicks are much of a match against bullets or blades. 

That is not to say that boxing is not a good thing to know.  Sometimes, having knowledge that a potential victim will hit back and knows how to make it hurt may cause a perpetrator to back down.  But one has to be careful.  Deciding to go the bullying route is not cool.  I remember my mother telling my younger siblings and I to fight back if other kids hit us.  "Hit them hard enough so that they won't do it again," she'd say.  But she'd add, "I'd better not hear about you bullying someone or I'll kick your ass."  In other words, don't start none just to prove how tough one is. 

There's a boxer I met years ago who bragged about beating down a guy who crossed his path.  Supposedly, he was sitting on a stoop when a guy allegedly made a pass at him.  Okay. . .I have heard many stories from guys who were propositioned by other guys.  It still doesn't justify gay-bashing.  The boxer could have politely said, "Naw, man, I don't swing that way," and went on about his business.  But nooo, like the late John Belushi used to say.  The boxer jumps on the guy and beats him to a pulp.  I remember the guy laughing as he was telling the story.  Not a good look.

That story points out another problem with using boxing, or any other fighting art, as self-defense.  The law has no problem with anyone fighting off a would-be attacker and escaping from them.  If I continue grinding someone who tried to snatch my purse into the sidewalk just to prove a point, I could find myself being slapped with assault charges.  They tried to hurt me, but I could get dunned for it, especially once it is learned that I know how to box.  Unfair, but very true.  A judge will ask, "Once you got them off of you, why did you go on to knock out their teeth and black their eyes?" 

In the case of the gay-bashing boxer, he wouldn't have been able to tell the cops anything like, "I felt my safety was in jeopardy!"  All the other guy did was say something to him that he didn't like.  He was lucky that no witnesses or cops were nearby, or that would have been a battery charge.  The judge would have went extra hard once he found out the guy knew how to box.

There was a movie called Undefeated starring Wesley Snipes. Snipes was a boxer doing a long stretch because he beat a guy to death who was playing around with his girl.  His sentence was made particularly harsh because the judge ruled that Snipes' character's hands were lethal weapons.  The movie was fictional, but the situation Snipes' character was not unusual.  Anyone who's in a fighting art should always pick their battles outside of the ring or the octagon very carefully.

Ladies' Night

I was a little late to the gym.  Joe was back again, and he not only had Chloe with him but he brought along Natalie.  As soon as I came in the door, Alan informed me, "You can work with Natalie tonight."  Natalie sings opera, works in advertising, and is going back to school for design.  She's also a Golden Gloves winner from last year.  She fought as a senior novice the last time.  This time, she's fighting in the open category.  Natalie has fast hands, and she never stopped moving.  I took a few shots to my nose, my mouth, and my left eye. 

Matt and Cynthia were in the gym checking things out.  They plan to sign up for the Spring session.  Matt had some martial arts experience, but Cynthia had no fight experience at all.  They asked a lot of questions about the sport. "Do you spar a lot?" they asked.  "Yes, and this is the first time in awhile that I was the first to spar for the evening," I answered. 

I got back in the ring for one round with Chloe.  Like I've said before, Joe teaches his boxers well.  She slipped a right that I threw then snaked around to give me a hook.  "I've really got to work on my wind.   You find out how important it is once you're in for a few rounds," she told me earlier.  "You know it.  I need to work on that myself," I agreed.

Once again, Alan said to me, "Don't get too friendly because you may have to fight them."  "You can't be friendly with the people you fight?" I grinned.  I told him about when Meg and I saw each other in the washroom before our fight at Brooks Park back in December.  Meg was uncomfortable running into me, and I was trying to figure out what was the big deal.  "There's a difference sparring with your teammates in the gym and fighting someone you don't know.  I would have a hard time fighting a friend," Alan said.  I don't know about that.  Inside the ring, it's about business, but I don't have an objection to talking to my opponent afterwards or before. 

John told me he lost eight or nine pounds in one week.  "What have you been doing?" I asked.  "I've just been eating meat, vegetables, fruit and no carbs," he said.  I envy how fast guys can lose weight once they focus on it.  They can drop the pounds without a lot of major effort, too.  Women?  We change our diet, up the exercise, and two months later, the dial on the scale still hasn't moved much. 

Boxing In The Sanctuary

Melanie, a woman who goes to my church, brought up the idea to me about running a boxing program for kids at church not long ago.  She said it probably wouldn't be too difficult to find used equipment for the kids to use.  But as Pastor Roger pointed out, the legal and insurance issues would be a challenge.  I'm aware that some churches have had successful boxing programs (as well as programs focusing on other sports).  While being in a sport is beneficial for most kids, a lot of things have to be considered.

There was a woman named Carla who used to attend the gym.  She's now married with a little one of her own.  I remember her saying that she would never let a child of hers participate in boxing.  "I'd think, 'I can't let my baby get hurt!'", she told me.  What the parents of the children would feel about such a program at church would definately be another consideration.  Some may object to what they see as the church promoting violence.  This also is one reason why Barry, the kids' coach, requires that the youths who are interested in boxing bring their parents to the gym.  He wants to make sure that the parents are comfortable with their children particpating in boxing.

The sport has to fit the kid, too.  In the movie, Girlfirght, the main character discovers that her brother does not want to take lessons at the neighborhood boxing gym.  He would rather develop his artistic skills, but their dad forces him to box.  It's a male ego/chauvinist thing where the dad is concerned.  Either a child likes the sport, or they don't.  They should not be pushed into one.  Also, if it is clear they don't have the talent for it, then they should try something else.  I would also be concerned about some kids at church feeling left out  if they could not participate.

As a coach, I'd also have to be mindful of kids utilizing their newfound boxing skills to bully others.  I've seen and been around adult boxers who take pleasure in bullying people in and out of the ring.  It's not pretty, and the adults should know better.  There are some good kids that attend Sunday services and/or the youth group at my church.  However, there are a few that would try the patience of Job.  Please don't tell me about "we should suffer the little children".  In my opinion, most adults use the "kids will be kids" line -- too many times -- to excuse away poor and inappropriate behavior out of those who are under eighteen years of age.  I have little patience for that type of stuff, and as old as I am, I'm not going to develop any. . . sorry, Charlie.  If I saw that a kid might ignore the concepts of teamwork, cooperation and sportsmanship, I'd probably weed them out of the program. 

Sign Up Sunday

Carlos came to pick me up yesterday morning so we could go to the Golden Gloves Tournament sign-up at Eckhert Park.  His girlfriend, Cynthia, along with their youngest son, Jacob, were in the car. Jacob is a very cute nine-month-old.  Where his older brother Justin (who was at church with his grandmother) looks just like Cynthia, Jacob looks just like Carlos.  Carlos called before he came by.  "Do I have to shave off my beard?" he asked.  "Not until right before the fights," I answered.  "Oops, I've already started to cut it off," he said.  I don't think I had ever seen Carlos clean-shaven until yesterday.  He's very baby-faced. 

Surprisingly, the room wasn't packed when we arrived.  I didn't recognize many except for Rita, Ted, Tracy (the publicist for the event), and the photographer who always takes stunning photos during the tournament.  It didn't take long for me to renew my coach's license, but Carlos had a bit of paperwork to fill out.  Plus, he had to pay for his first boxing license. 

One of the coaches was grumbling about the price of the license, which has gone up.  "This is a rip-off!  What am I paying for?" he said.  It was pointed out to him that the boxer's licenses and the boxing club licenses had gone up, too.  The guy kept complaining, and the people doing the registering politely gave him a hint: either pay it, or don't pay it.

Alan and John had been there earlier and had taken care of their business.  Carlos mentioned that he had spoken to Alan earlier that morning, and it was unclear whether or not Jamil had made it to registration.  I believe today is the last opportunity to sign-up; however, the registration will be held out in the suburbs. 

Hitting Hard But Not Up

Carlos came in last night, but he was still battling a cold.  Adam had a cold, too.  It affected how the two sparred; they didn't do it for too long.

Plans were made for some of us to meet at Eckhert Park on Sunday to sign up for the Chicago Golden Gloves.  Carlos is in, as is John, and Jamil is planning to go.  I have to renew my coach's license; Alan is grandfathered in to the system.  Still no sign of Kevin, and it doesn't look like Ralphie is going to compete. JJ is being encouraged by the coaches he's working with now to sit out the Gloves and compete in other tournaments.

I told Pastor Roger I would miss church to go to the tournament registration.  "Playing hooky, huh?" he commented.  On Wednesday, during the regular mid-week lunch, I told people about being knocked down by John on Monday.  Paulette shook her head.   "Why would they have registration for the tournament on a Sunday?" she asked.  I guess weekends (plus having multiple places to sign up) are the best way to go to make sure everybody gets a chance to sign up.  It's not just people in the Chicago area.  Boxers from Indiana, Iowa, Michigan and Wisconsin show up for the tournament, too. 

I've noticed that every time JJ is in the gym, Alan has to get into the ring with him.  Whenever Nate Sr, is in the gym, he always wants to mix it up with JJ, too.  Both men appreciate JJ's style of boxing.  Alan and JJ went for a few rounds.

Alan and I sparred for two rounds.  There were too many times when I missed opportunities to get him with hooks.  "You hit hard," he said afterwards, "but you don't always go for the head. . .why?"  "I still think that I can't reach up easily because everyone is taller than I," I answered.  I noticed that I've gone back to pawing at incoming lefts and rights again, too.  "You have a lot of bad habits that we have to work on," Alan said.  "I know. . .I feel like I throw the same punches all the time without much variation," I agreed.

Knocked Down and Bruised

"You're always the last the go in," Alan smiled.  Sparring takes place each time the gym is open for the adults.  I seldom beg off of sparring, but usually, I'm one of the last, if not the last person to do so.  Last night, I went one round a piece with John and Tony. 

Although I've become a little better protecting my head and my face, there's still room for improvement.  One of John's punches caused my neck to turn in a funny way.  "I'd better be cool or else I will be visiting a chiropractor," I thought.  Alan was on the side, saying, "Use the hook!".  Not easy to do, since John is at least six feet in height. John thought the coach was telling him that.  A right hook got me, and I fell to the canvas.  I wasn't knocked out, just stunned and caught off guard.  John helped me up.  "I'm sorry!  I didn't mean that!" he said.  "Don't worry about it.  I had my hands down," I said.  I was laughing about how I fell down. 

I knew Tony was hesitant about hitting me when he and I were in the ring.  "You can really hit her," Alan told him, and Tony's punches did become a little harder.  Tony bounced around the ring a lot, and I had to stop myself from constantly chasing him.  It is better to let an opponent come to you, instead of getting tired out running to them.  Later on after I got home, I noticed a bruise on my left arm.  I don't bruise up easily, and I don't get bruised often, so it was a surprise to me.  It hurts a little today, but it's okay. 

Pastor Roger has some vintage Sports Illustrated issues he's trying to sell for awhile.  He gave me the ones with various boxers on the front covers.  "Maybe the guys at the gym would like to buy them," he told me.  There was a little interest until they heard, "Twenty dollars a magazine."  Then Alan told me about a friend of his who has a huge boxing memorabilia collection.  He left a voice mail for his friend last night, asking him to call back if he's interested. 

Young Ed sparred with Eddie.  I was on the double end bag with my back to the ring when I heard, "Damn!  Ooh whee!"  I turned around to see Eddie rubbing his eye.  Young Ed asked, "You alright, man?"  "Yeah," Eddie said, "but damn!"  Apparently, Young Ed had caught him with a good right.  Eddie came out of the ring and sat down for awhile.

Michael, who's a year younger than I, asked me about Jeremy, who's been missing for over a week.  Maybe Jeremy's ill; a lot of bad colds have been going around.  Also, Carlos, Kevin, and Ralphie were not in the gym.  Alan said that Ralphie had gotten injured the last time he sparred, and his back was bothering him.  That might have a bearing on whether or not Ralphie will sign up for the Golden Gloves later this week.  JJ was in the gym, and I thought I heard him say he wasn't going to enter the tournament this year, but I'm not sure.

Best Two Rounds

Carlos came in, suffering from a cold.  "Sometimes I can breathe out of one nostril, then sometimes, the other nostril is clear," he said.  Alan suggested that Carlos work it off by hitting the bags after he sparred with a few guys, including St. Louis.  Acknowledging that the cold was slowing him down, Alan later told me, "Carlos wasn't himself tonight." 

Carlos still hasn't decided whether he's going to sign up for the Golden Gloves.  "I think I'm too heavy," he said.  "You'll be fine.  A lot of heavyweights run out of gas after the first round," St. Louis told him.  "You just have to keep hitting and pace yourself," Alan said.

I sparred with Jamil for two rounds, and I felt amazingly confident.  I was lighter on my feet, and I took little breaks to back up and get air.  Jamil told me that I got him with a left hook.  "I saw it coming, but I didn't get my hand up fast enough to block it," he smiled.  That was a surprise to me, because I didn't think any of the hooks I threw connected.  I was tired afterwards, but not as winded and worn down as I usually am.  I immediately got on the heavy bags.

The Bullying Kind

You would think that working at a church would mean not having to deal with irritations.  There's one particular guy who gets on my last nerve.  He frequents the food pantry at church, and is always trying to scam his way around the rules.  I don't even answer his calls anymore.  Each time he calls, he's rude and disrespectful to me, mainly because I'm onto him.  On top of that, he expects me to do his leg work.  The guy never keeps up with the times he's supposed to come to the pantry.  Then he wants to know what is available before he decides to "make a long walk" to church.  The last time he did that I snapped, "I have arthritis in both of my knees.  I'm not about to run up and down the stairs to check on your appointment or give you a menu of what's down there.  If you want to know that, walk over here."  Pastor Roger is always telling me to be nice and sympathetic, as we do have several characters who frequent the food pantry that sorely try my patience.  However, my tolerance for nonsense is going down as I get older, not up. 

I don't even know what the guy in question looks like, because I don't usually go downstairs during the food pantry hours on Mondays.  Nor am I usually at church when the doors open for the Tuesday afternoon food pantry  I keep saying that I'm going to catch the guy and threaten him with the possibility of being permanently banned from using the food pantry.  But I haven't (as of yet).  I guess it's not in me to be a bully.

Maybe that's the reason behind me not always returning fire as I should whenever I spar (or during the last two fights I had).  My late sister Cindy had a talent for bullying people, and many were intimidated by her.  It's not that I won't step to someone whom I find annoying, irritating, or has threatened me.  But Cindy liked to do that, and I'd rather be peaceful most of the time.  I think that boxers have to have a bit of a bullying attitude in them in order to be successful. 

Joe, a coach who knows Alan, came in last night with Chloe, a fighter of his.  Joe can also been seen working the corners of various fighters sometimes on ESPN's "Friday Night Fights".  I sparred with Chloe, who looked to be fifteen years younger than I.  She also weighed less.  But Joe taught her well.  A right hook from her nearly floored me.  "I thought you lost your balance," Alan said later,  "No, it was the punch!" I replied.  I got a good body shot in, but like Alan noted, I ate most of her jabs with my head.  "Remind me that we need to work on some jab and catch drills," Alan told me.  Later, after I got home, I felt the rest of the pummeling I took.  "Don't get too friendly with her, because you might be fighting her down the line," Alan joked. 

I overheard Joe and Alan talking.  "She's had two fights," Alan told Joe, referring to me.  "With whom?" Joe asked.  "Meg," Alan answered.  "Oh, yeah, she's one of Bill's fighters at Hamlin," Joe said.  "She's a fire fighter, you know," Alan said.  "Really?  Meg's good," Joe said.  Don't I know it, I thought.

I lent Jamil the memory card from my digital camera.  He said he knows some people who could possibly get the videos I recorded of him and others sparring off of the card and onto YouTube.  Jamil begged off sparring last night.  St. Louis had given him a black eye the week before.  "My father saw my eye and he was trippin' about it, so I don't want to come home with another black eye so soon", he told me.

Kevin, John and Carlos didn't come in last night, and Alan and I were concerned.  The sign up for the Golden Gloves is at the end of next week.  "I hope they're not changing their minds about competing," Alan said.

Boxing Withdrawal

I did not go to the gym last night, and it was the first time I had missed a session in a long time.  I'm thinking about going back to school, so I went to an open house held by Loyola University's School of Continuing and Professional Studies.  It was held at their Water Tower campus.  I talked with the head of the Paralegal Studies program, as well as alumni.  The information I received was very beneficial.  Since no one seems to be interested in hiring support staff people these days, especially ones who are my age or older, I've been thinking it's high time for a change.  It was well worth my time to go to the open house. I'm going to check out some other schools, too. 

However, I suffered boxing withdrawal, as I told Virginia today when we had lunch together.  I hate to miss boxing for any reason, including illness.  But sometimes, schedules overlap, and one engagement has to have priority over another one.  When I do return to class, which might be as soon as this spring, my class schedule may conflict with going to the gym at times.  I hope not, but I'll have to bite the bullet if it does. 

News Cycle

The past few days have presented me with good news-bad news-good news scenarios.  I learned that I am going through menopause, which is news I've been waiting on for a few decades now.  Luckily, the nurse/midwife that I talked to at the health clinic had good suggestions on how to deal with the symptons that don't involve medications. 

The bad news was that another one of my cousins passed away.  My cousin Darlene passed a few weeks before Thanksgiving last year.  Now my oldest first cousin, Denise, has passed away.  I took off work yesterday to attend her funeral. 

The second piece of good news was when I learned that a trifling ex-boyfriend had died.  "The boyfriend?" Pastor Roger said, when I told him the news.  I've told the pastor about the eight years of my life I wasted on the guy.  The ex bit the dust several years before due to heart problems.  That news made my whole week. I was smirking and smiling about it for hours. It warms my heart to know that he's six feet under ground -- with the scar I put on his face with a right cross twenty years ago.  It's a long story, but I will say that my right hand cut him open but good, and this was long before I properly learned how to box. 

St. Louis, Carlos, Ralphie, Jeremy and Kevin were missing last night.  Michael returned, looking well rested after a vacation he took.  I sparred with Jamil for two rounds and took extra rounds on the heavy bags.

The speed bag was gone again.  Last week, there was a newer one up, but it was a very odd shape.  I was on it for a couple of rounds until I got tired of trying to figure out a good rhythm.  Hopefully, a better speed bag will appear soon. 

Punch To The Music

I'm the one who usually turns on the radio in the gym.  Most of the time, it is tuned to WGCI-FM, a local urban contemporary station.  I assume that's one of the favorite stations of the kids who use the gym on Tuesdays an Thursdays.  WGCI caters to the under 30 crowd who like Kanye West, Jay-Z, Beyonce, Ciara, and the like.

Seldom do I change the dial.  First of all, it's the community radio, so all have an opportunity to switch the station (and play CDs or cassettes, if they want).  The coach has the option of not allowing the radio on at all, so the boxers can hear his instructions while they are sparring.  Also, many of the younger guys who come into the gym on Mondays and Wednesdays would rather hear the current hip-hop/rap that is in heavy rotation on WGCI.  I tend to tune it out while I'm working out.  I don't listen to that station elsewhere because I'm not crazy about most of the stuff on their play list. 

When I walk to the gym, I usually play my drug-store MP3 player on the way there.  There are over 200 songs on it at the moment.  The music mix consists of various genres.  Right now it's top heavy with a lot of slow songs.  I skip those during my journey to the gym, and play the dance, fast soul music, and rap songs to get in the mood for my workout.  I'm always playing, "Mama Said Knock You Out" by LL Cool J, "Tic Toc" by the Lords of the Underground, and "Move Bitch" by Ludacris.  I'll throw in Otis Redding's version of "Satisfaction", "What You See Is What You Get", by the Dramatics, and "You Can Have Watergate" by James Brown and the JB's.  "I Ain't Leaving Without You" by Jaheim, is probably the newest song among the 200 on the MP3. 

There's a company that insists that slower and quieter music is better for working out.  They produce CDs with such music.  I tried that one day when I was alone in the gym for awhile.  I think I tuned the radio to a classical station.  Didn't do it for me.  I had to hear something harder, faster and with a beat. 

Sparring And A Crash

I sparred one round with Ralphie on Wednesday.  It was his birthday.  I heard him say he's 31 years old, but he looks a lot younger than that. 

Jeremy begged off of sparring.  "I didn't let my wife see my shirt," he told me, referring to the blood he got on it from Monday night. 

Adam told me, "I would spar with you, but I'm meeting a girl later, and I want to look good."  We both laughed.  Jeremy was leaning up against the lockers.  "Is it hot in here, or is it me?" I asked them.  Ever since I've been noticing what seems to be hot flashes, I've been asking that question often of others.  "No, it's hot in here," Jeremy confirmed.  There were a good number of guys in the gym, and no air was circulating. 

Ed came in.  "Hillari, you've been coming here a long time.  I remember!"  Ed began boxing several years ago in Barry's class.  "Since September of 2002," I smiled.  Sometimes it doesn't seem that it has been that long. 

Alan was pulling out of a parking space at the end of the evening when he backed into a car that was double parked. He cursed as he jumped out of the car to check the damage.  Neither Alan, myself, nor the other driver was hurt.  Alan and the other driver exchanged information.  Alan had broken a mirror on the other guy's car.  "I think I'll just go ahead and pay for it.  The guy told me he's a lawyer.  I don't want to aggravate him," he said to me. 

What I Get Out of Punching

Many, many posts ago, I went into why I took up the sport of boxing.  I've not said what I get out of boxing.

1)  Assertiveness -- Years ago, I put up with a lot of crap all the time.  I would "grin and bear" much while stuffing down the anger and resentment.  Beginning in my mid-twenties, I got tired and began to stand up to indignities.  Boxing further pushed me into learning to be more assertive.  Just today, I got on a person who always acts rude to me when they call the church. Boxing has helped me squash a lot of disrespect directed my way.

2)  Confidence -- I was very shy as a child and teenager, which often lead to me being picked on as well as being overlooked and dismissed.  Boxing can't take the full credit for gained confidence -- singing, acting and speaking in public over the years has also helped -- but it has enhanced it.

3)  Exercise and the return of athleticism -- I was the kid who loved gym class while I was in grade and high school.  Outside of school, I was always roller skating, skateboarding. and riding bikes.  As an adult,  I became less of a fan of exercise, made excuses not to move around, and the pounds went up.  I tried aerobics, but it left me cold.  I needed something a little more intense that would hold my interest.  I found it in boxing.

4)  Camaraderie --  No matter where I've gone, whether it be a tournament, a show fight, a Park District show, or a certification class, there has been an instant connection with other boxers.  Boxers share common experiences of tough training, taking hard knocks, groaning over losses, and celebrating over wins.  A couple of summers ago, I was riding my bike in Evanston when a guy pulled up next to me in his car.  "You box?" he said, noticing the Everlast sack that was on my back.  He had boxed when he was younger.  We shared a few pleasant moments talking about the sport.  Some of the best times I've had in recent years have involved shared experiences with others in the sport.  Being excited over watching a fight on pay-per-view at someone's home, cheering on fellow boxers at live matches, laughing over something funny in the gym, meeting former and current professional boxers and listening to their stories. . . .it goes on and on.

5) Encouraging females in the sports -- The guys have a clear path in the amateurs and the professional ranks as they move their way through the sport.  Women and girls still struggle to be recognized, respected, and being taken seriously in boxing.   Whenever a new female comes to the gym, I do my best to make them feel comfortable and encourage them to stay.  I congratulate the females I see boxing at various matches, and tell them to go as far as they can.  My hope is to see more females become interested in boxing.

6) The "you do what?" factor -- I tell someone I box.  The reactions range from being impressed to being horrified.  I have people who encourage me to keep my dukes up, as well as those who continually attempt to talk me out of fighting.  I never get tired of the surprised looks. 

Cleaning The Crimson

Jeremy sparred for the first time with Jamil last night.  I watched them during their second round.  Jamil caught Jeremy a few times in the nose.  That was the first time I ever saw Jamil bloody someone up.  Jeremy was bleeding a lot, but he stayed in the ring. 

Alan said that Barry was concerned about blood he had seen previously on the canvas.  "We've just got a lot of bleeders," Alan told me.  Jeremy's shirt was stained with crimson, and some of it did make it onto the canvas.  Near the end of the evening, I got some paper towels from the women's washroom and grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol off of the coach's desk.  "What are you doing?" Alan asked, as I wiped up the canvas surface.  "I figured I'd clean up the blood from the canvas.  There's a few spots," I answered.  "How much of my blood is on there?" Jeremy joked.  "Eh, don't worry about it, Hillari," Alan said.  I saw a broom in an odd spot and picked it up.  "Now what are you doing?" Alan said.  "I'm just moving the broom over to the garbage can," I said.  He thought I was going to start sweeping, which would not have been a bad idea, judging by the condition of the floor.  "There are maintenance guys for that.  We'll coach, and we'll let them clean," Alan grinned.  Jeremy had also gotten blood on the sparring gloves he had worn.  I rinsed those off in the washroom.

Some readers might be saying to themselves at this point,  "No way!  How can she do that?"  I've gotten used to it, and I'm not very squeamish.   Besides, I'm very careful when I'm in contact with blood in the gym.  Unfortunately, one has to be very careful when in contact with any body fluids these days.  The sparring gloves are used by everyone.  There have been many times, when I've put on a pair, only to discover that someone else has used them recently, and the gloves are sweaty.  I noticed a cut on my left thumb right before I got into the ring with John last night.  Before I put on a pair of gloves, I pulled out a bandaid from my gear bag and covered my thumb with it. 

I wore makeup and nail polish the day before, as I attended church and attended the church's annual business meeting afterwards.  Of course I didn't wear makeup to the gym, but I hadn't removed the nail polish.  I like the contrast of the polish on my fingernails peering out from my handwraps.  It's funny to me. 

While at work yesterday morning, Alan called to ask if I could print out the Chicago Golden Gloves registration and bout schedule and bring it to the gym.  I was in Pastor Roger's office at the time; we were talking to Pam, who expressed an interest in doing volunteer work at church.  Pastor looked at me, trying to figure out if the call was for him when I answered it.  After a few moments, he told Pam, "That sounds like she's talking about boxing stuff."  Alan chuckled when I told him about it later that evening.  "Sounds like you're making a boxing fan out of the pastor," he said.  "No, he always tells me that he doesn't understand much about the sport," I smiled. 

Alan told John that the cut off age for registering at the Golden Gloves used to be thirty-three.  Now it's 35 because the Chicago version never seems to support a Masters' division.  John is 34 years old.  "Man, that would be something if after getting all hyped up for the tournament, I couldn't get in due to age!" John exclaimed.