Pad Work Night

Alan had to attend a job function, so he was not in the gym this evening.  In attendance were Jesus, Oscar, Kenny, Amy, Sarah, and Jacob.  There's a boxing show tomorrow at Eckhart Park; neither Jesus, Sarah or Amy wanted a match.  Kenny and Oscar plan to fight, but Jacob will let Alan know if he can later on. 

Taylor Park will hold the next Chicago Park District boxing show, but Loyola Park's, which follows Taylor's show, may have to be postponed.   Alan checked the calendar and noticed Loyola's show takes place during Rosh Hashanah.  That means neither he or Barry would be able to attend.  He let Mary know, but she said they'll discuss it later on. 

One looky-loo came by, a woman who had walked into the gym Monday.  She didn't ask any questions then, and tonight, she peeked in briefly.  Ramon, who used to train regularly in the youth program, came in with another guy who also was in the youth program, but briefly.  Ramon told me that he'd like to participate in the Loyola Boxing show, but he's been out of the gym for three months.  Barry told him he'd have to train for several weeks in order to be in the show.  I held pads for Ramon's friend, who nearly blacked my right eye when he missed a shot. 

Kenny and Jacob took turns holding pads for each other.  Then Kenny alternated between holding pads for myself and Sarah.  Kenny had me do jab-right-slip right-slip left-duck-straight right-left hook a few times.  I thought it was a good combination.  After we were done, I practiced that in the mirror. 

Overall, I felt I really got in a good workout.  Usually, I don't drink all of the water I carry in a bottle to the gym, but I did tonight.  I must have really been working.  But then I need to get back to drinking a lot of water anyway.  I've kind of fell down on the job over the past two to three years in regards to making sure I get my eight glasses in every day.  It was easier when I had a full-time job.  I kept a water bottle on my desk, so that was a constant reminder not only to drink it but to keep it full.  But since I was laid off, I've fallen out of the habit.  I brought another couple of diet planners, so that's an extra incentive to keep track of my water intake, as well as how much food I shovel in from day to day. 

I was talking with Rachel, who is Aaron's (the church's custodian) wife earlier today.  I told her about how I box.  "I couldn't do that (boxing).  I'd not want anyone to have to call 911 on account of me hurting them," she laughed.  When Alan often accuses me of not hitting someone hard enough, I now realize it's usually because I like the person whom I'm sparring.  I don't want to send them to the hospital.  I told Rachel it's easier for me to go extra hard in an actual match because I usually didn't know my opponent before we got into the ring.  But even in that case, I still don't want to seriously hurt someone, even though I want to win.  I don't think guys who box have that problem at all, even if their opponent is a buddy of theirs. 

Five Times The Sparring

There was a small crowd in the gym on Monday night.  A guy came in with his five year old son; he just picked up the gloves and started hitting the bags.  I assumed Alan gave him the go-ahead because he didn't say anything to the guy when he saw him.  The guy ended up working the pads with Jesus later in the evening.  At the end of the night, the guy complimented me on my sparring. 

Renee and I sparred first.  She got me a a couple of good body shots, and I kept aiming at her head, since she's not much taller than I am.  Renee was done after the first round, because she was gassed out.

Alan and I did the next two rounds, and he had no headgear on.  He didn't really need it.  I kept laughing because he kept getting me with sneaky punches.  He was laughing, too.  However, I managed to avoid taking another kidney shot from him. 

Jimmy (wearing the orange shorts in the photo above) sparred with Nathaniel (in the red shorts).  Alan is seen watching the action.  Once again, another spectacular punch took place while my back was turned.  Jimmy punched Nathaniel in the nose; Nathaniel was bleeding.  Some of his blood was on the canvas, and I had to wash off one of the water bottles, because some of it had splashed on there, too.  He was okay, but he told me that his nose was hurting like hell.  "I'll be going to bed early tonight," he smiled.

Alan noticed that Jesus had not sparred.  "Do you want to spar?" he asked, and Jesus looked around the room to see with whom he could spar.  "Don't look around; it doesn't matter," Alan told him.  I agreed to get back into the ring with Jesus.  "Really hit him because he has to learn to hit back," Alan told me before the bell for the first round rang.  While I was in there, Alan told Jesus, "Hit her!  It's okay!"  Before the second round, Sarah suggested that I end my combinations with my left.  I took her advice, and it worked more times than not. 

I saw Ray this past Saturday.  He's a barber at Clippers and Shears, and I went to have my hair cut by him.  Ray would have gone to Harrison Park last week, but the man fell ill that evening and couldn't make it in.  Hopefully, he'll come in on Wednesday.  Eckhart Park is having their boxing show this Thursday, and maybe Ray could get a fight there. By the way, he cuts hair very well.

West Side Rumble

I packed my boxing gear to take to Harrison Park Thursday evening, but I knew there wouldn't be a match for me.  Alan, Kenny, Colonel, Ursula, Renee, and Uvee (a friend of Ursula and Renee) were standing in the back of the gym at that field house before the matches took place.  Alan pointed out a female fighter who was dressed and ready nearby.  "There you go," he told me.  "She looks like she's no more than fourteen years old!" I exclaimed.  "But she's your height," Alan grinned.

That boxing show was also the second one I attended where the singer who did the National Anthem mangled it.  They knew all the words.  The problem was staying on key.  I felt bad for them when I heard the widespread snickering in the crowd, especially when she tried to hit the high notes.  "That was no comparison to you, Hillari," Alan said, referring to the times I sang the song before Loyola's boxing shows.

The best bout of the night was between two young women.  Alan and Kenny pointed the taller woman out to me as she warmed up before the fight.  "Check out how she throws punches," they told me.  She was working those pads like a job.  I was impressed.  When the bell rang to open the first round, she dashed on her opponent with a fierceness.  There were body blows galore.  But in the second round, her opponent -- who was shorter and appeared to be heavier -- got revenge.  The shorter woman popped the taller woman in the face with a right.  The referee gave the taller woman an eight count.  They resumed their pummeling of each other, but the shorter woman bopped her opponent in the face with jabs six or seven times in a row.  The crowd was hyped up, cheering and clapping their approval.  The taller woman ended up receiving another eight count.  The women continued their war until the bell ended the last round, and the shorter woman won.  I believe she was fighting for Hamlin Park.

Kenny almost got a fight, but the matchmakers decided the guy was too young for Kenny to get in the ring with.  That guy ended up winning his match against an opponent who did not follow the "be first" rule and allowed the guy to get the drop on him.  Oscar did not show up in time, so he missed out on getting a fight when the weigh-in period ended.  

Kenny, Colonel, and Alan left early, but the rest of us stayed to the end.  Then we went to eat at Kopi Cafe, a place that I've passed by for years, but had never been inside.  It was a cool place, and the Mexican hot chocolate I had was delicious. 

Sister Sparring

I was on my way to the gym, when I saw two of my neighbors, Eric and Michael.  They walked down to the field house with me, but Michael didn't want to go inside.  Eric was curious about the gym, so he came in.  "So this is your spot," he said.  I introduced him to Alan, who gave him some curious looks.  Later, the coach asked, "Is that guy a little wacky?"  "Yeah, but in a good way," I answered.  I told him that Eric is a bodybuilder who is always giving me free passes to XSport Gym, where he trains.  "He looks like he lifts weights," Alan commented.  Eric walked into the field house with no shoes on, and his shirt off.

Amy sparred for the first time Wednesday night with her sister Sarah.  I got some of the action on video, but unfortunately, the battery in my camera went out.  I cursed to myself when I couldn't find any batteries in my gym bag, but here is what I got:

Amy told me that her arms got very tired after awhile, and that she turned away from her sister perhaps a little too much.  I told her that she'd get used to holding her arms up after awhile.

I sparred with Sarah afterwards, and we had several good exchanges.  I mainly kept going for the body (despite Alan constantly telling me to go for her head and use my hooks), and Sarah mostly aimed for my head.  I pinned her arms to slow down the onslaught of punches; Alan called "Break!" several times during the three rounds we did.  The both of us were worn down at the end of the sparring session.  As Sarah and I stepped out of the ring, Professor -- who was going in the ring with Jacob -- commented, "I think a fight broke out!" 

Sarah and I were worn out.  She was sitting in a corner, and I was sitting in front of the lockers for a few rounds in order to regain strength.  Alan told Sarah that he doesn't give instructions to her while she's sparring because he knows she can't hear it through the headgear and other noise in the room.  Sarah is hearing-impaired, and she wears hearing aids.  "I was wondering if you were giving Hillari instructions," she said to him.  "All the time, but Hillari listens to me sometimes, and sometimes she doesn't," he said, which is true.  Alan told Sarah that she has a good height advantage over me. 

Ray took on Oscar first in sparring, then Jesus.  Oscar was floating jabs towards Ray that connected a majority of the time.  But Jesus acted as if he was nervous about hitting Ray.  Ray did not return punches, but encouraged Jesus to practice punches on him.  "Hit me hard.  I can take it!" he told Jesus. 

There was an injury that I didn't see first hand.  Professor took a hard hit to his mid-section from Jacob during the time they sparred.  By the time I turned around -- I was on one of the heavy bags -- Professor was down on one knee, trying to catch his breath.  "You can shake that off," Ray said.  "Beautiful punch.  It was perfect," Alan pointed out.  Professor was okay after a few moments. 

Jacob could have had a fight at Harrison Park tomorrow, but unfortunately, he has to work late.  Alan had one lined up for him.  As of right now, Kenny and Ray plan to fight at that boxing tournament if they can get matches.  Alan told me to bring my gear, but there's a big possibility that I won't get a fight.  I don't remember there being any female fighters at Harrison, but some may show up from other field houses. 

"Oof! Ohh!"

As usual when we're in the break time between sessions, the crowds thin out a little.  Professor came in briefly, sparred with Kenny, then left.  Colonel was in for a minute, too, then he departed.  Amy and Renee were there, but neither wanted to spar.  Amy had planned to spar with her sister Sarah, but her sister didn't come in, so Amy said she'd wait until Wednesday.  Nathaniel and Jesus both sparred with Kenny, who gave them tips on how to improve their game. 

Alan and I sparred, which we hadn't done in a long time.  I was proud of myself for catching several of his underhanded jabs before they connected.  I also cracked him with a few hooks, an uppercut, and some rights.  He got me with something, and I slipped, fell, and rolled backwards.  He had to help me up off of the canvas.  Then Alan figured out that he could catch me with body shots, and he used them often.  I covered up against one shot coming in, but did not anticipate there would be a kidney shot behind it.  "Oof!" I went, as I covered up too late and backed up.  I came to a stop near the ropes and went "Ohh!" 

I haven't taken very many body shots over the years.  I remember Carlos gave me one that darn near stopped me a couple of years ago.  Amanda got in some when we sparred several weeks ago.  My head usually takes the brunt of the punishment.  I think I'd rather go with the head shots, because I can (mostly) shake those off.  Body shots aren't easy to work past.  "Are you okay?" Alan said, after he rushed over to hug me as I leaned on the ropes.  "I'm okay", I said, but it was a few seconds before the action continued.  I managed to finish out that round, which was my third.

After several minutes, Alan asked me again if I was okay, which he always does.  "I'll really feel it two days from now, and wonder why I'm in pain.  Then I'll remember: 'Alan hit me!'" I laughed. 

Alan mentioned that he had his ribs broken during a match, but he continued on.  I believe that was the fight that Alan took on when he was in his late 40s; at the time, he hadn't been in a boxing match since he was in his mid twenties. He had gotten the fight based on a casual conversation he had with Johnny B., who's a local fight promoter.  "What in the world made you take on that fight at that time?" Kenny asked.  Alan shook his head and said he figured he was up for it.

Kenny talked about fighting guys in their 50s who were still trying to be slick in the ring.  "Once people get that old, they have to realize they can't do that slick stuff they were doing 30 years ago," he pointed out.  Don't I know it, I thought to myself.  When I first started to box, I could move around the ring a lot better and faster than I do now.  I remember sparring for four and five rounds at a time.  But that was ten years ago. 

I remembered that Monday would have been my younger brother's birthday.  He passed away from heart failure at age twenty-two. He was not a big sports fan, even though our late dad tried to get him interested (mostly in baseball and football).  Baby brother may have thought I was a nut for fighting, but he might have cheered me on anyway, telling people, "She used to beat me up when we were kids."

Me vs. My Health

The ring is fixed.  The ropes are back up, and everybody hopes they stay that way for awhile.  When I got to the field house Wednesday evening, Colonel asked me to help ask a staff person to get some soap and water so he could clean the ring canvas.  Cynthia and Mary found some cleaner, and Colonel mopped the canvas.  It really needed it.  Alan went over it with paper towels to make sure it dried up.

I was feeling up with energy, but that disappeared halfway into another sparring session with Sarah.  My hands stayed up so my head didn't take much damage.  But I was huffing and puffing like a big dog.  We stopped after two rounds.  "I've seen you tired before, Hillari, but never like that.  Why?" Alan asked afterwards.  "It's a combination of things," I told him.

The day before, I had to get a checkup in order for the doctor to refill my prescriptions.   My meds ran out a couple of weeks ago, but the clinic couldn't give me an appointment sooner.  The scale read 197 pounds.  That can't be right, I thought to myself.  I had left my shoes on, and I was wearing a hat when I stepped on the scale.  I assumed those added the extra weight.  The doctor looked at my chart, and he told me that I need to lose weight (which by now is a broken record phrase; I hear it each time I see a doctor).  "The blood pressure is a little too high, too," he announced.  My left foot is swollen,  a condition which has happened on and off for years.  The doctors I've seen over the years have always been concerned about it, but they've haven't recommended much as to how to stop it.  I have noticed that the high blood pressure meds help keep the swelling down.  My late sister used to tell me that she thought the swelling had something to do with my heart.  Now my right foot swells up from time to time, too, but never like the left foot, which looks like a brick right now. 

As the doctor went on with his light admonishment, I felt a little like Dad used to feel when doctors told him to pay attention to his health.  My late father would get on the outside of the doctor's office and grumble about how the doctor didn't know anything.  I couldn't really grumble.  The weight gain is no doubt the effect of me not cooking 95% of the time and eating out.  I also didn't exactly take the doctor's suggestion from my last visit to add more days of exercise, other than the couple of days I go to Loyola Park.  Oh, I've made attempts this year, but I've also made excuses:  it's too hot, I'm tired, I'm busy doing something else, etc.

Ray and his friend Colette couldn't believe what the doctor said about my weight gain.  Neither could Alan.  "I don't see it," Ray said.  I explained how my poor cooking skills probably contributed to the pounds creeping up on me.  "I could see if he said a few pounds," Ray continued, "but fourteen in such a short period of time?" "It's also probably hormonal stuff due to menopause," I said, remembering an article I read about menopause weight gain not long ago.  "But, still, you move around in here every week," Alan said.

"Eh, I'm fighting age, too," I said.  Ray looked at both Alan and I.  "Don't start that 'age' shit.  Come on, now," he said.  "You're right.  I need to stop bringing that up," I agreed with him.  I'm still well enough to come down to the gym and bang on people and get banged on, so I can't be too far gone.  "You and Alan last longer than some younger people I know.  I've seen 17 and 18 year old guys give up after just 30 seconds in the ring," Ray said.  While Alan was sparring with Jacob earlier, I overheard Ray praising Alan to Marcus about the older man's skills in the ring.

Alan backed Jacob into a corner, and threw a flurry of punches.  Jacob's head gear flew off his head and out of the ring, but Jacob kept answering Alan's punches.  Sarah and I were suited up, waiting for our turn to spar, and our mouths flew wide open.  Ray put Jacob's head gear back on.  "Hell, yeah!  That's what I'm talking about!  The gear came off, but that didn't stop him from fighting!  That's right!" Ray exclaimed.  "My goodness!" I said in amazement, then I started laughing.  I was still laughing just before the bell rang to start the first round between Sarah and I.  

Amy plans to spar on Monday.  She was waiting for the ring to be fixed because she didn't want to spar without the ropes being back up.  I don't blame her.  It was hard going trying to spar and watch out for the downed ropes at the same time.  "All she needs is a mouthpiece, and she'll have that by next week," her sister Sarah smiled.

The clip above is a very short portion of a round between Marcus and Oscar (Oscar is the shorter guy).  Unfortunately, the card on my camera ran out of room, so I didn't get it all.  Marcus did two rounds with Oscar.  He was getting hit a lot because his hands were down.  Also, Oscar had a lot of energy that evening, as he danced around and away from most of Marcus' punches.  But I have to give Marcus a 'A' for effort because he soldiered on during the rounds.  

The MMA Fighters

Kenny and his dad, Colonel, brought in two Jiu-Jitsu/Muay Thai fighters they know, guys named Nino and Frankie.  Kenny explained that while both are good MMA fighters, they needed work on their punches.

Both Nino and Frankie worked with Kenny inside the ring..  The clip above shows a round between Kenny and Frankie.  Later, Nino and Frankie worked together on their MMA moves, and they were good.  Some of those kicks were really exciting to see. 

I asked Kenny about throwing uppercuts; I seldom have success in getting any off.  He told me that I have to be very close on the inside in order to throw them on someone who is taller than I.  Also, he pointed out that throwing overhands rights at someone who's taller than I is not that effective.  Usually, I'm able to pop their shoulder, and that's it (although, I remember landing good ones on Eric and Alan).  Those work better if I'm roughly the same height as my opponent.  Problem is, I don't often spar with people who are as short as I.

Speaking of which, I was sparring with Sarah again, and I was gassed out before the first round ended.  Alan kept telling me to keep my hands up and to "go from the body to the head".  I just couldn't do it.  Sarah's punches kept bouncing off of my head like a series of Wham-O Super Balls.  She popped me in my mid-section a couple of times, too, and I was not prepared either time.  Wishing for the bell to ring in order for the round to end is self-defeating self-talk, but I was relieved each time it did.  The last round ended fast because Sarah briefly lost one of her contacts.

"You were really tired today," Alan grinned afterwards.  Over the past several days, there have been many times where I've struggled to keep my eyes open.  I have not been sleeping well at all.  If I get three hours of sleep a day, I'm doing good.

Alan said that we're going to Harrison Park's boxing show on the 25th of this month.  I haven't been up there in awhile.  It's a fairly new field house with a beautiful swimming pool inside.  Hopefully, they'll be enough fights for everyone to take part in. 

One Of Those Days

Earlier at work on Wednesday morning, I eased myself into a chair in Pastor Roger's office.  "Have you ever had one of those days when you feel. . .", I began.  "Old?" he said.  "Like you feel every bit of what age you are?" I asked.  Pastor went on to talk about a friend of his who went to the doctor with complaints.  The friend said that ever since he turned 40 years of age, he'd been feeling aches, pains, and other woes.  The doctor pointed out that the friend was forty years old.  "See Aaron, this is what you have to look forward to," Pastor laughed.  Aaron is 23 years old, he was also in Pastor's office, and he was chuckling.  "Yep, and each time you go to the doctor after that age, it appears they find something else wrong," I said.

Sarah and I sparred later in the evening, and I was just not on point.  I kept standing in one spot and taking her punches, I wasn't returning as many as I should, and I kept letting my hands drop.  I truly felt like an old woman.  When I saw Jimmy in the park yesterday -- he was working at his dad's hot dog stand -- he commented, "I saw you in the ring with that tall girl before.  I don't know how you manage."  Right before stepping inside the ring, I practiced a combination of ducking, stepping in and throwing a right to the body, followed by a left hook to the body.  Only twice did I manage to get that in during sparring.  "If you can't dance away from her, then walk around, but don't be a punching bag.  And move your head," Alan told me.

Above is a clip of Jimmy and Jacob sparring, the clip I intended to post on here a couple of days ago.

Josh came in, which was a surprise, since he hadn't been there in a few months.  He worked with Kenny on the punch mitts.  He and Kenny are featured in the clip below which is just a general look at what goes on in the gym once the bell rings to start a round. 

Jimmy was the only one who was matched up to someone for the boxing show at a field house on the west side.  Unfortunately, he didn't come in the gym; I hope Alan has his phone number.  None of the other guys got anything, and Alan told me that the coach over there "has no girls" with whom I could match up.  So we just try again for the next boxing show, as usual. 

Available To Fight

It was raining as I walked to the gym Monday night.  Carolyn was no where to be found when I got there, so everyone had to wait until Alan came in before we could get into the gym. 

Sparring was done between Jacob and Jimmy, Oscar and Jesus, and Sarah and myself.  I did get footage of Jacob and Jimmy, but I left my camera at the gym.  I'll post that up later this Wednesday.  Sparring continues to be a dicey dance because half of the ropes are still down on the ring.  I did do a better job of catching some of Sarah's punches before they reached my face this time. 

There's a boxing show at Sheridan Park this Friday; Alan asked some of us did we want to fight there.  "If someone is available, sure I'll fight," I told him.  That's the key word where I'm concerned -- available.  The guys are usually able to get fights, and some of the women who are younger than I are able to get bouts.  I have some factors that are not in my favor: being female (there doesn't seem to be a lot of women fighting via the Chicago Park District gyms), being short, and being older.  This may be my last year as a competitor, so I'm going for whatever opportunities there may be for me to step into the ring.

The Funky Gym

Alan had to go out of town on business, so he wasn't in the gym Wednesday night.  As soon as Jilberto opened up the gym door for myself, Oscar and Jesus, the mix of blood, sweat, and hot air rushed into my nose.  Phew!  I've been noticing the "funk" in the gym too often these days.  I didn't even bother turning on the second fan or fussing with opening the ancient windows.  The second fan, which is built into a window in the back of the gym, does nothing to blow air out, and no breezes ever seem to come in through the windows.

Kenny worked with several on the punch mitts, including Jacob (shown on the right in the photo above).  Kenny really gives some great pointers on how to throw punches and when. 

Before I had gone to the gym, I hoped there wouldn't be any incidents, major or minor.  Unfortunately, too many times when the coach is absent, something negative jumps off.  Fortunately, it was an easy, quiet night.  Leon came in briefly, talked to Colonel for awhile, then left, probably because no sparring was going to happen.  I spotted one of the many teenage boys that haunt the basketball courts peering into the gym, but he didn't come in for a closer look. 

The old boxing poster above features a picture of John Collins, a former professional boxer who is now a coach.  His niece, Erin, used to attend the gym, and she once had a fight at the Sabre Room, out in Hickory Hills.  I started thinking about all the people who have attended the gym since I've been going there,  I wonder what happened to most of them.  Lan has crossed my mind lately.  Outside of myself, she was the only other woman who was very consistent about coming to the gym.  Most of the other women who have come through last a session on average, then they're gone.  She was in the military, and that was why she stopped coming to the gym -- she was eventually stationed at a base outside of the state.  Jilberto would often ask me if I knew if she had been deployed overseas.  Steve, the former coach, tried to keep in contact, but the last email address he had for her bounced back. 

I pulled some pages out of my locker that I had copied out of The Gleason's Gym Total Boxing Workout for Women a few years ago.  The pages were of different combinations, so I decided to practice those.  I really like the jab-jab-left uppercut-right combo, so I worked on that for a few rounds.  I was awkward doing the jab-step-left hook-right cross combo.  I kept goofing up on the step part.  I did combinations on the bags too in an effort to check myself from just throwing one punch then stepping back all the time.

Alan told me on Monday that I catch too many jabs with my face, as opposed to blocking them with my hand.  It's true.  I do know how to tap incoming jabs down, but for some reason I don't do it.  I practiced a little blocking while shadow boxing in Rogers Park Baptist Church's gym yesterday. It was as hot in the church's gym as it gets in Loyola Park boxing gym, but I had to get a workout in.  Pastor came in and imitated some of the moves I was doing.  It looked as if he was attempting to dance (which he can't do, poor thing) instead of shadow boxing.  Aaron, the custodian, peeked in, saw me and smiled.  "I gotta play some Christian death metal music for you that I have on my iPod.  That could be used as workout music," he said.  I'd heard of death metal, but was surprised at the fact that there are Christian death metal bands.  He played some for me today.  I'm not into death metal, Christian or otherwise, but that could easily be blasted out of radio speakers at a gym, and it would work. 

Paulette told me that she saw the videos of me sparring.  "It looked like you kept backing up, when you could have been more aggressive," she said.  That's not the first time I've been told that.  I'm beginning to think that my backing up is a holdover from grade school when I was always having to back away (and not usually successfully) from some other kid's wild punches. 

Monday Toughness

Not too many showed up at the gym Monday night.  Nathaniel asked, "Where's everybody?"  "The heat must be keeping them away," I answered.

Jesus and Oscar sparred, as did Professor and Nathaniel.  Alan once again spent most of the time making sure people weren't falling out of the boundaries of the ring and tripping over the ropes.  The video clip below shows part of the action between Professor and Nathaniel.

Sarah and I sparred, and I took a hit to my left eye.  Usually, she always gets me in my right eye, but it was the other eye's turn to spin around after reeling from the impact.  Luckily, I blocked several overhand rights that came down on my head.  I got a few shots in to her head.  I tried to do what Kenny had showed me the last week: throw a right uppercut, then dash off a left hook.  I wasn't effective.  Alan had to keep telling me to duck under her punches.  I was only successful at doing that a few times, which bothered me because I'm way shorter than Sarah.  It should have been easy to do. 

I went down to the washroom afterwards.  Sarah's sister Amy was jumping rope out in the hallway.  "How did it go?" she asked.  "Your sister is tough," I said, still trying to get my wind back.  

Danger and Forgiveness

I have written here many times about how some people have admonished me over the years for participating in boxing.  One of the best came from Ma, who told me back in 2001, "Can't you find something else better to do?"  It has been pointed out to me more than once that boxing is, well. . .dangerous.  I tell people how much I love the sport, and I laugh it off, but they're right.  Precautions are taken (especially in the amateur ranks), but sometimes, things go wrong. 

One of the most horrific tragedies happened on March 24, 1962 at Madison Square Garden in New York City.  Emile Griffith, a boxer from the U.S. Virgin Islands, fought Benny "The Kid" Paret, a Cuban.  It was the third time the two had fought, and the match was aired on national television on NBC.  The first time they faced each other, Griffith won the welterweight title by knockout.  The second time, Paret regained the title.  The other night on ESPN Classic, I watched a documentary, Ring of Fire: The Emile Griffith Story, which detailed what happened that night. 

During the sixth round, Griffith backed Paret into a corner and pounded him with punches.  Some of the people in the documentary differed as to how many punches Paret took.  Now I've been hurt myself in the gym and in the ring.  I've seen others, both professional and amateur boxers, get injured on TV and during matches I've seen in person.  The footage of Griffith beating Paret however, had me cringing with my mouth open.  It was one of the most brutal beat downs I had ever seen.  The referee, Rudy Goldstein, jumped in too late to stop it.  Paret had been knocked unconscious while still on his feet, then he slumped slowly down to the canvas.  A reporter interviews Griffith, who regained the championship, right after the mayhem.  Griffith and his corner people look cautiously over at the corner where Paret, who was still out of it, was laying.  Griffith commented that he hoped Paret "is feeling very good." Paret never regained consciousness, and he died ten days later, leaving behind a wife and a young son.  Paret's widow is interviewed throughout the film.  Several times, she is wiping away tears. 

Boxing doesn't have a patent on deaths.   Cars spin out of control during races, jockeys fall off horses on the racetrack and are trampled. Luges crash, bulls stomp on their riders, and skiers slam into trees.  But people are more scandalized about a boxing death because animals, sports equipment, and machines didn't contribute.  It was purely at the hands of another human.  It does not matter if the fight was sanctioned, or what the referee observed, or how the judges saw the bout.  People will cry, "Murder!", and the calls to have the sport banned will be raised -- again.  Indeed, that fight was the reason why boxing disappeared from network TV for the rest of the 1960s, not to be seen again until the 1970s. 

Some thought that Griffith may have intentionally beat Paret like that due to Paret using a gay slur towards Griffith during a weigh-in.  Griffith seems to admit to being bisexual during the documentary, but there seems to be confusion about that, even on Griffith's part.  He said that the slur didn't bother him.  Footage of him being interviewed in the ring after the fight shows Griffith looking at the playback of the action.  He appeared to be surprised at the intensity of his punches on Paret.  Griffith gives the impression that he got caught up in the moment, and just followed the directions of his trainer to keep punching. 

As harsh as that night was, as well as some other messy aspects of Griffith's life -- a brief marriage, an assault that nearly killed him, dealing with puglistic dementia -- the documentary offers a most poignant and hopeful coda at the end.  Paret's son, now an adult,  finally meets Griffith.  Initially, Griffith has trepidation, as anyone would in that instance.  How will Paret's son react to him?  What can Griffith say to the son of the man he killed?

The two men meet in a park.  Paret's son tells Griffith that his mother still has a hard time about his dad's death.  But the son has no hard feelings.  Griffith hugs the younger man and cries on his shoulder.  Forgiveness is a hard thing to do.  I am not fond of the concept, and I admit that I'm guilty of carrying grudges.  I'm not the only one.  But the documentary taught me that it not only can be done, but it is necessary for closure. 

Lessons From Kenny

I did a round robin session of sparring with Sarah and Taheerah.  Sarah got in with Taheerah first.  I was impressed at how Taheerah hung in there with Sarah; she's not that much taller than I, and Taheerah is petite.  But she was able to handle Sarah's punches.  When I got in with Sarah, it was the usual; I took hits to my head and to my right eye.  A right hook grazed me across my face.  I focused on giving out body shots, but none of them slowed Sarah down.  I'm convinced that Sarah should try to get a fight at the field house's boxing show next month.

Taheerah's head gear kept coming off while she was sparring with Sarah.  The same thing happened last week when she and I were in the ring.  She has a lot of hair, plus the head gear Alan put on her was old.

Kenny noticed that it seems that there are fewer sparring and bag gloves on the table each time the gym is opened.  "Sometimes, Barry locks up equipment," I said.  When the gym was given a lot of free equipment back in 2007 when the International Boxing Championships were in town, Barry had to put a lot of it under wraps for safety.  Unfortunately, a lot of that equipment -- the gloves in particular -- walked anyway.  Kenny figured that maybe some of the equipment was beginning to walk again.  

Kenny held pads for a few people, including me.  He showed me another way to throw an overhand right.  Usually, I do it the way Alan does, like a bolo punch (which is what that punch was originally called), setting it up like a right cross, but coming down with it in an arc.  The way Kenny showed me was to come over my opponent's jab so that my fist ended up striking their chin or cuffing them behind the ear.  He also had me throw right uppercuts and immediately follow up with a left hook to the body, as I would already be in position to throw the hook from leaning in to deliver the uppercut. People were watching us, including Taheerah and Ray, who cheered me on. "There you go!" Ray said, and Taheerah laughed as she told me, "Don't try those punches on me when we spar!"  Next week, Kenny is going to show me some more combinations and how to step over to avoid counter punches.

I sent an email to Steve on his birthday; I believe he's now 38 years old.  He emailed back and told me he saw the letter I sent to The Ring Magazine praising them for finally including regular articles about female boxers.  He asked if I was still going to Loyola Park and how the gym was going.  I gave him an update and asked him to say hi to Ellen (his wife) and their kids.

Tommy and I were talking about energy drinks on the market.  "Have you tried that Five Hour Energy?" he asked.  "I've never drank a full bottle.  Half of one is enough to have me hopping," I said, and I comically demonstrated the effect.  Tommy laughed.  "I drank a full one, and I was sitting on the train when suddenly I felt pumped up!' he said.  I don't trust most of the energy drinks I see advertised because I'm not really sure about the ingredients that go into them.

Alan and I were the last ones in the gym at the end of the night, and I told him, "I forgot to take pictures of the action."  "Take a picture of the ring.  You can put a caption on it that says the ropes are in distress -- much like Leon's love life," he chuckled.  "If Leon sees this on the blog, I'm going to tell him that you put me up to it,' I laughed.

Ears and Eyes

Earlier in the day, I was wondering how I was going to make it at the gym Monday night.  The usual menopause insomnia and fatigue had plagued me the night before, despite the fact that I did get a few good hours of sleep.  Sometimes I feel tired in the gym and push on, but other times, like last night, I'm able to shake it off.

While walking through the park to get to the field house, I saw a little boy who looked familiar.  "Nico?" I called out to him, and he stopped in his tracks and looked at me.  I waved to him.  Nico is one of the children who regularly attends my church.  Jesse, who used to be an intern at my church, and who's also a friend of Nico's parents, saw me and waved.  I guess he was watching over Nico.  Nico has often played with Jesse's young son Emmit. 

And it was a good thing I was able to keep the tiredness at bay as I sparred with both Taheerah and Ursula (Renee and Amy opted not to spar).  Ursula only did one round and she was done. I was in the ring for two rounds with Taheerah, who got in a few good shots to my stomach.  Trying to be slick at one point, I covered up my mid-section, but left my head wide open.  Taheerah clocked me in my ear with her right hand.

A pop to Nathaniel's eye from Jacob ended the sparring session they had.  But Kenny, who had gone into the ring earlier with him, and Ray, who had observed their pairing, had nothing but praise for him.  "He's got a lot of heart," Ray said, while Kenny exclaimed, "That mother------ kept coming despite taking hits!  I have to give him his respect!" 

Ray helped Jimmy along while they sparred in the ring, encouraging Jimmy to throw more hooks.  Alan was trying to keep his eyes on them as well as all the sparring that went on, while keeping an eye on the damaged ring.  A few times while Kenny sparred, he kept stepping over the rope, and Alan would gently push him back onto the playing area. 

In the photo above, Jacob spars with Kenny (who's facing the camera).

I got the name of the cream that Ursula recommended for helping with arthritis pain: it's called Arnica, and I'm going to look for it tomorrow.  My knees felt pretty good today.  Taheerah had seen me out with my bike a few weeks ago.  "I have rode as far as Highland Park, but these days, it depends on how my knees feel," I told her.  I've only rode my bike once this season, but I'll need to pull it out more beginning next month as part of the training plan for the tentative fight I'll have in September.

Fighters and An Old Sitcom

I've been watching reruns of "Car 54, Where Are You?" over the weekends on MeTV.  For those not hip to cult TV history, it was a sitcom that aired from 1961 to 1963 on NBC.  The main characters were a couple of New York City cops: tall, college-educated bachelor Muldoon (Fred Gwynne) and short, none-too-bright married man Toody (Joe E. Ross).  There were a couple of episodes where the cops were trying to catch up with a gang of thieves.  There was one guy who appeared as the muscle of the gangs in both episodes.  I was surprised to read the credits at the end of the episode to find out the guy was real-life boxer Jake LaMotta.  As of this writing, LaMotta is 90 years old, and still very much alive.  His life story was chronicled in the movie Raging Bull (1980), with Robert DeNiro playing the boxer. 

The writers and producers of "Car 54" must have really liked boxers, because just this past weekend, I saw another episode featuring two of the greatest boxers of all time.  The episode, "Puncher and Judy", had one of the cops, Kissel, (Bruce Kirby) bragging about how he was going to take on an opponent.  Toody informs Kissel that he took the liberty of signing him up for the Golden Gloves.  He even has the name of the opponent, some guy named Tony.  Suddenly, Kissel's not so brave anymore, and decides he's going to back out, but not before snapping on Toody for putting his name in the competition.  A woman (played by the late Shari Lewis, who was also a popular voice over actress) shows up at the station and begs Toody and Muldoon to convince her boyfriend Tony, a gentle hairdresser who has customers who are crazy about him, not to fight in the gloves.  The cops take Tony to a boxing gym, and arrange with a trainer to have one of the pros at the gym pop Tony one good time in order to make him lose his confidence.  To the surprise of Toody and Muldoon, Tony wipes the canvas with his opponent, and has to be pulled off of him.  The part of Tony was played by boxer Rocky Graziano.  His real-life story was also done on the big screen: Paul Newman played him in the movie, Somebody Up There Likes Me (1956).

The cops get the bright idea to get an even more experienced pro to beat Tony in order to keep him out of the Gloves.  They manage to convince the pro to disguise himself as an old man as to not bruise Tony's feelings too bad.  Tony doesn't want to get into the ring with a "70 year old man" but Toody and Muldoon convince Tony to give him a few rounds.  What Tony doesn't know is that the "old man" is actually Sugar Ray Robinson in disguise.  Tony is knocked to the canvas, and decides that boxing is not for him.

However, when Tony returns to his hairdressing job, he's mean to his customers.  Tony threatens to cut off all the hair of one customer, and he sends another woman running out of the beauty shop crying.  His girlfriend realizes that boxing was the way Tony let out pent-up emotions, so she begs Toody and Muldoon to convince him to go back to boxing.  The cops and Robinson let Tony know how they tricked him at first, and all ends well with Tony beating down three guys at one time at the gym as his girlfriend cheers him on.

It was an amusing episode.  Graziano exaggerated his boxing moves, beating guys after they had already fallen onto the canvas by pouncing on top of them (something that is not in the boxing rulebook).  Robinson was getting fitted for a suit by a tailor when Toody and Muldoon approached him to take on Tony.  "I don't know fellas. . .I have to train for a fight," Robinson said, then he casually flung a backhand fist at a nearby speed bag as the tailor measured him for the suit.  Robinson's manager handed him a contract for his next fight.  The boxer asked if all his demands had been met, which were all outrageous, including 92% of the box office receipts.  The manager assured him the demands were in place, and Robinson signed the contract.  The manager walked away, then a thought occurred to Sugar Ray.  "Wait!  Who am I fighting?" he asked. 

Graziano did meet Robinson in the ring for real, in 1952.  Robinson knocked Graziano out in three rounds.  It would be Graziano's last attempt at a middleweight title.  Graziano was entered into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 1991.  Robinson was entered there in 1990, as was Jake LaMotta.

The Coach, His Son, and Pizza

Taheerah and I sparred Wednesday night, and I honored her request to go light.  Her husband, Nate, gave her tips from the side.  I heard Alan say to me, "She's your height!  Throw straight punches!" 

The ring itself continues to be in disrepair.  I heard that it might take a year for maintenance to fix it, which I can believe.  When the back door of the field house was broken, it took about that amount of time before that was repaired.  As Kenny pointed out, it makes it hard for the fighters who need to learn how to work off of the ropes.  It's also hard to gauge where one is at during sparring because half of the ropes are down on the canvas.  Alan and I are constantly calling out, "Watch out!" when someone gets too close to the edge.  In my opinion, what's needed is a ring that doesn't have its canvas bolted down on the floor.  The last time I was in JABB Gym, I remember they had a small ring that was only a couple of feet from the floor.  It didn't take up a lot of room; such a ring could probably fit into Loyola Gym.

The temperature in the gym was very hot, and no wonder -- it was about 100 degrees yesterday.  I was banging on the teardrop bag when I noticed my bag gloves were slick with sweat.  Jilberto told Colonel and I that most of the other field houses didn't open that day due to the heat.

I got some more good tips from Kenny on how to throw uppercuts.  I had reverted to my old habit of bringing my arms all the way before throwing them, which is a good way for an opponent to step in on me with hard hooks.  The last time I sparred with Taheerah, I tried to sneak a couple of uppercuts in, but I wasn't close enough, and she danced away very fast before I could execute them properly.  That's the one punch that I never feel I do correctly, and the one I feel I need to practice the most. 

Lots of sparring, despite the heat -- Kenny, Jimmy, Jacob, Matt, Nathaniel and Nate -- all took turns on the canvas. 

After the gym, Alan, his son Matt, and myself went to Giordano's.  Matt had chicken, while Alan and I split a pizza (the leftovers of which I will have for dinner tonight).  Alan had me cracking up with a some "Curb Your Enthusiasm" moments he had.  One involved him asking a woman if she was pregnant.  She wasn't.  "You never assume that a woman is pregnant unless she tells you," I laughed.  I think of all the times people have seen my gut -- which I have been trying to whittle down for the longest -- and assumed that I had an ankle-biter on the way.  It's one of the quickest ways to tick off most women.

We had a good time.   I could tell that Alan worries a lot about Matt, and like most young folks, Matt thinks his dad's fears are unfounded.  However, father and son appear to have a comfortable way of talking and relating to each other.

Sparring All Around

I turned on the fan that's built into the back window of the gym, as well as the box fan.  It didn't do much.  Ray commented, "You can just stand around and sweat and lose calories in here!"  Despite of the heat, the gym was well attended tonight.

Taheerah and Ursula sparred.  Taheerah kept coming forward.

 

Then I got into the ring with Taheerah.  I put out as many straight punches as possible, including an overhand right.  The video clip of us sparring looks odd because Alan was holding my camera, and he hasn't quite got the hang of how to operate it.  Plus, I had problems uploading it, so it's not featured here.

After some coaxing by Leon, Jimmy agreed to spar with him.  Alan got into the ring to referee, and he had to warn Leon several times to go easy.  Jimmy did take a shot to the side.  "He didn't hit me as hard as he could have, but I feel it," Jimmy told me later.

Matt, Alan's son, came in, and he sparred with Oscar.  Matt plans to go to college for a year here in Illinois, then transfer.  He's eyeing a kickboxing team at a school out in California.

Ray and Alan had a great sparring session -- with no headgear -- which ended prematurely because Ray slipped and fell.  Ray got in a nice, crisp uppercut on Alan right before Ray fell. Kenny, Oscar, and Marcus also sparred, so the ring was used a lot tonight.

Recognizing A Southpaw

I stayed at work a little longer yesterday because I had come in late (didn't sleep one wink the night before).  Paulette had come in to help set up for that night's Vacation Bible School session, and she gave me a ride home.  As we were leaving, Pastor told Paulette that he'd see her later that evening.  He looked at me and said, "Box somebody for Jesus!"

Tommy sparred for the first time last night, and Alan picked me to get into the ring with him.  As I've mentioned before, I have a hard time building up some sort of manufactured antagonism towards opponents, even when I have regular bouts.  Also, Tommy is a holdover from when Steve was the coach, and the only connecting person currently in the gym to that past time.  I felt kind of guilty for having to hit him, and I didn't want to go hard. 

Around the middle of the first around, I began to notice that Tommy was using his right hand to jab.  I kept moving to his left to avoid that hand.  He was moving a lot faster than I was, too, considering that I usually plod, and I'm more flat-footed in the ring.  In the second around, I caught some shots to the mid-section, then a right hood grazed across my eyes and the bridge of my nose.  "You okay?" he asked, and I said, "yes" as I backed up real quick.   After the third round ended our sparring session, I asked, "Are you a southpaw?"  When he answered in the affirmative, I exclaimed, "Ah-ha!"  Tommy has an advantage.

The video clip above is of Jacob sparring with Nate.  I stood on the opposite side of the ring so I could also include Alan in the shot.  He's the guy shadow boxing near the ropes and keeping an eye on the action at the same time.  Jacob also sparred with Oscar and Jesus, getting in several rounds.

There's a couple of Rocky posters in the gym; this one is for what (is supposedly) the very last movie in the series.  Sylvester Stallone, the actor who plays Rocky, was recently inducted into the Boxing Hall of Fame.  Many people thought that was a dubious choice, but the Rocky character is considered one of the patron saints of boxing.  A lot of people took up the sport because of those movies. 

Did I mention that I used a free pass to workout at XSport Fitness this past weekend?  I wasn't overly impressed by the place, and even less so when I went in the back to find two heavy bags and one double end bag.  The double end bag wasn't even filled properly with air.  I punched one of the heavy bags for about twenty minutes.  Afterwards, a woman told me, "I really liked how you were punching the bag.  You don't see many women boxing."  A black man who was walking nearby looked at me and grinned, "Yeah, especially black women!"  Humph. . .I could have told him stories.

Feeling Menopausal

Another hot night in the gym, and the fan didn't do much in terms of circulating fresh air around.  I was happy when I opened my locker to find the air freshener I placed inside still worked.  It will need to be replaced soon, however; I think it's been in there for about three months.

Oscar sparred with Jesus for a round, then I got in with Jesus.  "You've worked with him in the ring before, right?" Alan asked.  "Nope, this will be the first time," I answered.  He didn't give many hard hits, but he kept busy enough to prevent me from landing a lot of my harder shots.  Somewhere in the second round, I heard Alan say to me, "You're not tired -- work!"  Oh, yeah, I'm tired, I thought to myself, and the realization came that it wasn't all from the energy expended in sparring.   After the third round, I went over and sat down directly in front of the fan, my legs out in front of me.  Alan had to chuckle when he saw me.

It wouldn't have been nice to keep hogging the fan, so eventually I got up so I could watch Jimmy and Jacob spar.  "How do you feel?" Alan asked.  "Menopausal", I replied.

There seems to be a great interest among the guys in Jacob's style of boxing.  "He's really coming along.  I saw those punches he was throwing and I was like, whew!" Ray commented.  Kenny held pads for Jacob afterwards, and Jacob's punches reverberated around the room.  Some of the guys stopped their workout to watch how he was doing.  When Professor is around (he wasn't in the gym that night), he likes holding pads for Jacob and giving him pointers, too.  Alan would like for Jacob to consider taking a fight at some point. 

In the above photo, Oscar and Nathaniel wait for the bell to ring to start their sparring session.  Note the condition of the ropes at the back of the ring.  We're all hoping that will be fixed in a hurry.  

Jesus shadow boxes in the mirror some time after he and I sparred.

Kenny works with Oscar on the pads in the photo above.  One of Kenny's ribs got separated from the ribcage.  "How did that happen?" I asked, thinking about the time I bruised a rib while ice skating.  "I think it happened during sparring.  Luckily, it didn't puncture a lung.  I figured I wasn't coughing up blood, so it's all good!" he said.

Bedbugs and Boxing

Alan is always giving advice and pointers. . .in the photo above, he talks to Amanda after her and I sparred Wednesday night.  As soon as I took the first punch from her, I figured out quickly that she had some experience in the ring previously.  She moves very well around the ring, and she did some nice bobbing and weaving, especially when she sparred with Sarah.

 
Sarah and I commented on what good conditioning Jacob appears to have.  He went several rounds with Alan, and caught him with a good right hook.  "Remember that other day when he did several rounds of sparring?  He wasn't even breathing hard afterwards!" Sarah commented.  I believe Jacob told me he also works out at another gym, so that would explain his seemingly endless energy.   Jacob also sparred with Nathaniel.  Nathaniel had this nice move, where he bent down a little and twisted in order to throw a hook to Jacob's side.

Tommy was really beating on the speed bag.  "That's right, Tommy, kill it!" I joked, and we both laughed.  Tommy pointed at the speed bag and announced, "I'm coming back for you!"

I was so tired when I first got to the gym.  Have I mentioned that the building I live in, like so many others it seems these days, has a bedbug problem?  I clean (using bleach and ammonia), I spray (with over the counter pesticides), I throw stuff out to keep down clutter (I've begun to sell off my old albums), but it doesn't seem to help.  If your neighbors have them, and they haven't been properly dealt with, the problem remains.  I don't sleep much because of them, which is really a trip on top of having to deal with the insomnia that comes with menopause.   I woke up around 5:30 AM, and my legs and arms looked ghastly from all the bites.  It was the worst that I have ever been bitten up by insects.  My skin was raw from all the scratching.  I immediately got up and threw out my couch cushions and most of my bed sheets, pillow cases and blankets.  I don't think I have any pillows left at all.  Then I spent time spraying before I went to work.  It is easier for me to spar ten rounds with the tallest and biggest people in the gym than to fight the bedbugs.  At least I see progress when I'm sparring.  The sofa bed I used to sleep on will have to be thrown out to the alley because it's made of cloth and the bedbugs appear to have made that their personal residence; I have to call movers this week to get estimates on how much that will cost.

A neighbor of mine, Eric, gave me a seven-day pass to X Sport, a popular gym where he lifts weight.  He loves the place because he says it has a multitude of equipment (including heavy bags and kettlebells), plus, it is open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, all year long.  I will try to check it out before the end of the week.  I know that I'll be subject to a sales pitch because the seven-day pass is designed to get people to sign up for memberships.  I can't afford the cost of membership, but I've always been curious about those gyms that are accessible all the time.