No Sparring For The Coach

Alan arrived at the gym, spotted me and asked, "Are you the only one here?"  "No, Amy's here, too," I answered.  Andres and Paul came in but that was it for Monday evening. 

No sparring took place.  Paul told Alan he forgot his mouthpiece, which turned into a discussion of when and how often mouthpieces should be cleaned.  "I just rinse mine out," Alan said.  "I put mine in mouthwash.  Once in awhile, I take a toothbrush to it," I said.  "Why go through all that?  It's only going in my mouth," Alan said. 

There was a fight scheduled at Sheridan Park today, but it was rained out.  For some reason, it was going to be held outside.  The weather reports indicated rain all day, which was true.  I guess no one at Sheridan Park was watching the Weather Channel.  A rescheduled fight at Garfield Park did take place, but it was on a Thursday, and Andres wasn't able to participate in it because of the change of day.  Andres may get a fight at Fuller Park, which is coming up soon.

In the photo above, Alan held the punch mitts for Paul.  That's as close to sparring as Alan is going to get from here on in.  His right eye was fixed, but now his left eye needs to be worked on.  "I'm done with sparring.  I don't want to be walking around with a cane.  I'll be blind next if I'm not careful," he said.  I can't blame him.  But I'll miss our sparring sessions, and none of the guys will be able to play the "let's get a piece of the old man" game with him anymore.

Alan did work the heavy bags, however.  I held the black bag for him for a minute while he threw some hard hooks at it. 

I got on the black bag after Paul.  Last week, I was standing in one spot in front of the mirror throwing punches.  Alan came over to me and asked, "Where's the dancing?" so this week, I decided to make a conscious effort to move around more.  My lower back was bothering me, and so was the bottom of my left foot, but I pushed myself to keep dancing around the bags. 

There was a woman on Clark Street this morning who looked a lot like Sara, but I wasn't sure if it was her.  I was walking to work when I saw a brunette kiss a sandy-haired guy before they went their separate ways.  She didn't come to the gym on Monday.  I wanted to know if Sara had recovered from that darned I-don't-know-my-own-strength TKO punch I gave her last week. 

Alan and Andres did a burn out on the black heavy bag after Paul and I had did one.  Paul was counting "0, 1, 2, 3, 4" then calling out "Switch!" so the men could change places.  The fast pace tired both Alan and Andres out, and both were throwing hard punches each time it was their turn. 

Later, Alan showed me a picture of his son Matthew, whom I hadn't seen in awhile.  "Wow, Matt is swole!" I exclaimed, using a slang term that means bulked up.  Matt has been lifting weights; his arms were big and he looked good.  "Matt can throw me around the room easily.  But I told him that I have one more good fight in me!" Alan smiled.