And You Are. . . . .?

Matthew and Ben look ready to charge each other in the photo above.  There was a lot of sparring action at Loyola Park among the guys.  None of the women were in on it, including me.  Later, Matthew went in the ring with his dad, Alan.  I started to tell the both of them, "Fight nice!" as a joke.  I should have spoken up. Matthew fired a right hand at Alan then backed up near the ropes.  He had pulled a muscle in that arm but wanted to keep on fighting.  Alan refused and halted the action.  Matthew could feel where the muscle had popped out.  I sure hope that doesn't mean having to get surgery to fix it.

Matthew had brought a friend in named Alonzo.  People are always bringing friends into the gym to check it out.  When I figure out that an unfamiliar face is associated with someone who normally attends the gym, I think, "Oh, they're cool because they know them."  

I never think that about people who walk into LaFollette Park's boxing gym like that.  My first thought is usually, "Who is that and what do they want?"  Regardless if they know someone who is training in there, I prepare myself to bark at them for disrupting the class.  I know I'm going to have to get on someone for touching the equipment.  I know I'm probably going to ask -- no -- tell someone to leave, and I probably won't be nice about it.

It's probably because Loyola Park and LaFollette Park are in two different worlds from each other in terms of the vibes of the neighborhoods and mindsets of those who live around those field houses.  It's also the difference between dealing with kids at LaFollette and being around adults at Loyola.