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.