Boxing Class Is Free, But Babysitting Costs Money

In this photo, I'm standing at the head of the table in a room at Brooks Park the day of their boxing show.  The other coaches were trying to get matches for their fighters.  Barry took the shot.  "Hillari, you're always taking pictures, but you are never in them," he said.

Yesterday was another light attendance day at LaFollette Park.  James was the only one who showed up for the kids' class.  Sometimes, I get irritated by James always pointing out the obvious about the other kids not showing up regularly. But he's got a point.  I've come to dread Saturdays because that has become the least productive day of the week.

The other James, who is in the teen class, showed up about ten minutes early with his mother.  Jamiya, his sister, wasn't with him, and their mother gave me no explanation for her daughter's absence.  "In order for them to learn this sport and to do well in it, they have to be here more than once every couple of weeks.  I can't put them in fights if they don't train enough.  When they miss days and weeks, they have to start all over again from the beginning.  Like any other sport, skill builds upon skill." I told their mother.  I pointed out that the adult class is now gone mainly because of low attendance.  "I'll try to get them here more often," the mom said, but I wasn't convinced based on her kids' track record. The mom didn't remember that boxing is not a seasonal sport, something I know I told her when she begged me to take her kids in the class even though it was the middle of the session.

Another teenage girl always shows up as James and Jamiya finishes up class.  She came in yesterday, and apparently doesn't realize that she is a distraction.  I don't know who she is -- perhaps a cousin, maybe a friend.  James let her play around with the kettlebell until I informed her she had to put it down because she's not registered for the class.  Seems like little missy had an attitude, but she needed to ask me if I gave a damn about her being irritated.

I changed out the bulletin board with the training schedule on it again.  I also updated some of the other signs that are up on the walls.  I'm curious to see how long a new sign which reads, "Boxing training is free.  Babysitting is $20.00 an hour" will last before someone notices it and makes a smart remark.

Brawls at Brooks Park

Several of the coaches attempt to make matches for their fighters at Brooks Park's boxing show in the photo above.  Portage Park and Brooks Park seemed to have the most success with boxers getting fights.  Alan wasn't able to get a fight for John, but he did get one for Rojan.  Solomon, one of Barry's fighters, got a match as well.

It was a hardship driving up to Brooks Park.  I didn't know that construction was happening on the route I took there for blocks.  It was bumper-to-bumper, stop-and-go traffic.  What should have taken an half-hour turned into a journey that took over an hour.  Parking was tight in the small lot in front of the field house but I managed to squeeze into a spot.

Solomon and Rojan's fights didn't take place until later in the evening, so there was a long wait.  In the meantime, there were a lot of good fights leading up to theirs.  In my opinion, the best fight of the night was between two girls who looked no older than seven or eight years of age.  One girl was from Brooks, and I believe the other girl fought out of Portage.  The Brooks girl was on fire, landing most of her punches in the face of the other girl.  The Brooks girl won.  I was jealous because other than Ariel, I have no girls with the toughness the two young girls had in the ring.

No, Ariel didn't show up, and I knew Donovan, Maz, and James were not going to show up, so I had no one to put into the show.  It's too bad since Brooks Park is the last show I scheduled to have LaFollette Park fighters participate in this year.  Actually, the last show on the boxing show schedule is Scottsdale Park.  But now that Rick, the coach at that park, has retired, it's likely that show will not take place.

Rojan's fight appeared to be close, as he and his opponent looked to have traded an even number of punches.  But Rojan was hesitating too long at times to take shots, and the other guy kept backing Rojan into the ropes.  The other guy won.

I ran into Cynthia Tolaymat, who along with her husband, is a fight promoter. She and her husband were sitting next to Jesse White, who is the Illinois Secretary of State.  Mr. White was friends with my late dad for years.  "I really liked your dad and stepmom; they were lovely people," he told me.  While I was talking to Mr. White, professional boxer Adrian Granados came over to speak to him, and I got to meet him.  I didn't know that Granados had once trained through the park district.  He has a fight coming up soon on the Showtime network.  Frez Oquendo was in the audience, too.

It was a good night, for the most part.  Tomorrow, it's back to LaFollette, and trying to figure out how to keep the youths interested in the sport.

Two Years Ago Means Nothing Today

Ben (on the right) eyes John during their sparring session at Loyola Park in the photo above.  It was a good night of sparring as the ring canvas stayed occupied. I was too stiff to spar again, even though I would have otherwise.

Back at LaFollette Park, I was highly irritated when once again, Jermaine showed up to ask about signing up for the boxing class.  Jermaine was hanging around the gym along with his younger brother and his cousin Marquis when I first started working there.  My records in the equipment room don't go much past 2015, but I don't think Jermaine was ever formally signed up for the class.  There was a lot of confusion regarding registration back then which I have straightened out.  "Is there a boxing tournament?" he asked.  "Brooks Park is having a boxing show tomorrow, and that is the last one we're going to this year," I answered.  "Aw, man," Jermaine sighed.  I don't know why he thought he could participate seeing how he's not in the class nor has he trained for a fight.

Jermaine a couple of boys who were a few years younger than he had trailed behind him into the gym.  I had to keep yelling at them to stay off of the equipment.  Jermaine asked if he could have a paper form to fill out.  The last time we had the same conversation, I told him that the park district stopped doing paper forms two years ago.  "My parents don't know how to use computers," he said.  "Then they have to come in person to sign you up," I replied.  He held up his cell phone for me to see.  "I can call them right now and get permission to be in here."  "It doesn't work like that.  If they don't know how to use a computer, they have to come here in person to sign you up," I said as my irritation kept rising.

"But I was in here two years ago," Jermaine said with a smirk.  "That was two years ago," I said with no trace of humor in my voice.  The boy ticks me off because he has potential, but he refuses to act on it.  Now that I have three kids who have won trophies under me, I don't have patience for kids who want to brag that they take boxing yet don't put the work in.  Jermaine obviously thought I was stupid because he kept trying to slick talk his way into the class without following the steps.  "I have to have your parents' permission for you to be in here, Jermaine.  I'm NOT about to do something that I'm not supposed to do and jeopardize my job.  I like to be able to pay my rent.  Do you understand?" I snapped.  He and his little entourage left after that, but I don't believe Jermaine comprehended the message -- again.  Give it another few weeks or months, and he'll be back in the gym with the same con game again.  After hearing it so many times, I know Jermaine is not serious about the sport.

Maz, Donovan, nor James will be at Brooks Park tomorrow.  Maz's braces are bothering him, and they need to be fixed before he takes on another fight. Donovan claimed he didn't know about the show, but I remember talking to both him and his parents about it some time ago.  James just didn't want to go.  It's just as well because James still hasn't begun to lose the weight he needs to lose in order to get a fight.  That leaves Ariel, who expressed interested in going to that show.  But she didn't show up to train today, so I'm not totally sure that she will go to the boxing show.  I have a feeling I'll be there alone.

Reunion at Loyola Park

I helped out at Loyola Park's annual boxing show.  I had been in the "war room" during previous shows before, but it was different being there as a coach.  I walked in the room, and Tommy introduced me as the new coach at LaFollette.  There were surprised looks all around with the exception of Alan, Barry, and Bill, who said, "I knew you would make it."

Kitchens, who I hadn't seen in a long time, was there, along with Sean.  Kitchens was on a cane.  "I just do the Park District shows now.  I don't go to the Golden Gloves or the pro shows anymore.  I don't take pictures at the shows, either," he told me.  He and Sean have known each other for over 50 years.  I told Kitchens I saw a photo of him when he had won a championship back in the early 1960's.  The photo was in a book that Sean wrote about Chicago boxing.

The coaches on hand were Pat, who is at Brooks Park; Sims, who is at Bessemer; Tommy, who is not only the head of the boxing program for the parks, but also coaches at Portage Park; Ernie, who is the coach at Fuller; and Johnny, who helps Bill out at Hamlin.  I learned from them that Clarendon Park, where Alan used to coach at was once the jewel of the Park District boxing program.

This is a photo of a couple of Barry's boys before the show started.  The boy in the back near the ring is Gus.  I didn't recognize him at first.  Gus has got to be about seventeen years old now, and Gus has muscle.

Gene, who is Anthony's dad, was there.  Haven't seen Anthony in a long, long time.  I think he's training at another park.

Meg was there, and I'm so sorry that she and Geniece did not get to fight.  Alan was disappointed as well.  They were ready to go, but Bill was concerned about the weight difference between the two women.  There was talk of them perhaps doing an exhibition match, but that idea was nixed, too.  I have no doubt their fight would have been the highlight of the evening.  Hopefully, there will be a next time.

Meg wants to really advocate the idea of more girls in boxing, and so do I.  We talked about maybe having a girls' boxing day at some point, perhaps at LaFollette.  As soon as I get an idea of how many youths I will have, I would love to help make that happen.  I still don't have any youths yet, even though the fall session has started.  Bill gave me some encouragement.  "When I started at Hamlin, I spent three months there drinking coffee in the kitchen because I had no fighters.  But don't worry, the kids will eventually show up," he said.  Adrian, who was the DJ at the boxing show, told me it will take some time to build up the program as well.  I'm ready to work with the kids, so I will continue to do more promoting to get them in the gym.

Collette, who is part of the famous O'Shea family of boxing, was at the show.  She was very pleased to hear that I was a coach.  "We've got to make some strides," she said.  She is willing to send some kids over my way as she comes across them.

Tommy (in the red shirt) talks with Ernie in this photo.  Tommy was busy weighing boxers in and making the matches.  During the show, Tommy had to be in the corner with his fighters, so I was the timekeeper.  That was the first time I had done that; I'm always happy to pick up a new skill.

Pat sits in the background, Johnny stands behind Bill, and Bill talks to Ben, one of Hamlin's fighters.  Ben won his match.

I had to keep my eye on the stopwatch, so I didn't catch very many details of each fight.  John fought with Gus in an exhibition match.  Gus didn't seem to be throwing heavy punches, from what I could tell.

Justin fought with a guy who came out of the corner throwing wild punches.  Justin kept getting smothered, and lost the match.

Barry warmed up Jeremiah before his fight.  Jeremiah won a clear victory.

This was the fight announcer, who was cool on the mic.  He mentioned JJ's upcoming fight in Brooklyn, New York.  The announcer said JJ was an alumni of Loyola Park.

Keith, Alan, and John have a conversation after the show.  John invited Keith and I over to his and his wife Jinn's apartment afterwards.  "We miss you at the gym, Hillari.  It's not the same without you there," he told me.  It's nice to be missed.  I miss all of them, too.  When the program is up and running, John, Keith, Colonel (who was at the show videotaping the matches), want to come up to LaFollette and check it out.

Knockouts In The Ring and Drama Out Of The Ring

Alan and Andres react to something that happened during one of the fights at the Chicago Golden Gloves out in Cicero.  I think a super heavyweight fight was going on when this photo was taken.  That fight ended with a fighter being knocked clean out.

The first fight of the night ended prematurely as well, ending when a fighter was knocked down, and the referee stopped the action.  Alan helped Jack, the coach from Brooks, in the corner with that one.  But the fights didn't zip along at the fast pace they did the other night when we were at the Gloves.  Most went the distance.  The best fight of the night was between two women in the 114 pound category, a Latina and a white woman.  The Latina had great form, and she was throwing some hard punches.  She won the fight.

The coach from Simons Park was sitting behind Andres, Alan, and myself.  He also admired the fighting skills of the Latina and sighed, "I wish I had a woman down at my gym.  I could teach her to fight like that."  He echoed the same thing that I have been saying and writing about for years -- the women show up, but they don't stay.  "As soon as a woman asks me if there are other women in the gym, I know she's not going to stay long.  It's not like the guys are disrespectful of a woman in the gym, but a lot of women don't feel comfortable in a gym full of guys.  I guess that's just something the women have to learn to get over," the Simons Park coach told me.

I also learned more about the drama that's been going on behind the scenes of this year's Golden Gloves.  Some people had been removed from leadership positions, and the tournament was in danger of losing its non-profit status.  It seems some paperwork had not been filled out properly.  Rumors were going around that the tournament almost didn't happen this year because of internal issues.  I understand that those issues are being worked on, and some have been resolved.  But it would have been something else if the Chicago tournament -- which began in 1923 -- would have not happened this year.

Alan and I were in Andres corner during his fight which was number fourteen on the roster. Andres fought a guy from McGarry's Gym.  About two seconds before the bell rang for the first round, an official asks both Alan and I to show him our coach's passbooks.  Luckily, we both were carrying them on our persons, and didn't have to run somewhere to get them.  Near the end of the second round, I heard the 10 second warning, and I got up off the stool I was sitting on.  I wanted to be ready to stick it in the corner for Andres to sit down.  The same official told me, "Coach, please sit down until the bell rings."  All this was new to me.  Not wanting to jeopardize Andres, I complied, but I wished I had a little more warning about all these things long before the match started.

It was a tough fight.  Andres threw some good body shots and backed the other guy up a lot.  But the other guy was not going to go down easy, even after some hard jabs and rights that Andres doled out.  By the time the third round was underway, both fighters were tired.  Andres was throwing a lot of jabs at one point.  "Use both hands!" Alan yelled out.  Andres and the other guy started getting tangled up more and more, prompting Joe, the referee, to step in often to break them up.  The other guy hit Andres with something, a left jab perhaps, that backed Andres up for a second.  The crowd went, "Ooh!" in response.  But when it was all over, Andres got the victory.

Alan and I left almost immediately because he had to go to temple (it's Purim), and he had to drop me off at the train station. We hoped that the official told Andres when his next fight is, which should be the final, since Andres is competing as a senior novice in the super heavyweight category.

The Day Before Thanksgiving. . .and Hanukkah

I learn something new every day.  Liam Neeson, an actor who appeared in such films as Darkman, Schindler's List, and Taken, began boxing lessons at age nine.  Neeson eventually became Ulster's amateur senior boxing champion.

I'm always watching old clips on YouTube of James Brown.  One of the clips was from "Soul Train", and Brown told host Don Cornelius something about having boxed in the past.  Sure enough, the "Hardest Working Man in Show Business", did have a brief boxing career.

In addition to Alan and myself, John and Igor came in.  That was it.  John played his iPod via the radio/CD/tape player in the back of the room.  Instead of Colonel's mix of 1950's, 60's, 70's, and early 80's tunes, we heard a mix of sports themes ("NBA on NBC"), TV themes ("The Streets of San Francisco") and classic and newer rap by Eric B. and Rakim, Jay-Z, Dr. Dre, Snoop, Lupe Fiasco, and others.  Alan usually says he doesn't listen to new music.  But he had John and I laughing when he said he did like Li'l Kim.  "My son had one of her CD's when he was younger, and I used to listen to it," Alan grinned.

Igor begged off sparring again with the same excuse that was always given to the previous coach: "Next week!"  No surprise there.  I really wanted to spar with Teacher John after he and Alan did a few rounds with the punch shield.  My mouthpiece was choking me again, so I took it out.  But I kept coughing.  Finally, I threw up in the spit bucket.  I had some spicy Jamaican beef patties for lunch; hadn't eaten those for months. I believe my stomach gave me a hint that is another food that needs to come off of my diet. Unfortunately, I had to take the gloves and headgear off.

John wished that Matthew had come in so he could get some sparring with him.  There's a park district fight in early December -- I think it's at Brooks Park -- and John wants to get a trophy that he can take with him to South Korea.  John will leave after that to go back and teach there for six months, and to reunite with his wife, who is currently teaching there now.  It'll be for bragging rights.  John trains at a gym overseas, and he'd like to put a trophy up alongside the other ones that are there.

Battles at Brooks

In the above photo Shifty the referee presides over one of the many matches that took place at Brooks Park on Wednesday night.

I had stayed home all day.  On Tuesday, I was tired, sore, and worn out, but I went to work anyway and pushed through it.  But Wednesday morning, all systems were down.  I believe I had picked up part of a virus that Pastor Roger had contended with the other week.  I rested all day, then pulled myself up to get to the boxing show at Brooks Park. 

Andre and Reygie were already there when I arrived.  Reygie kept saying he was nervous.  "Nervous about what?" I asked.  I remembered how Reygie had taken out the opponent he faced last year at the same field house.  Thinking he would do that again, I assured Reygie that he had nothing to be worried about.  A bunch of his friends came in, and they were looking forward to seeing him fight.

Unfortunately, Andre didn't get a match.  It seems there was a guy he could have been matched up with, but the general opinion was that Andre was too big for the guy to take on.  "That's why sometimes I don't like coming out to these shows because I end up being disappointed," Andre said.  I had seen Big Chris on the premises, but I guess he wasn't looking to fight that evening. 

The first fight involved a couple of boys, one from Brooks Park and the other from Scottsdale Park, which is way out on the south side.  The kid from Brooks took some hard hits to the face, and I believe the ref gave him a standing eight count about three times.  The boxer from Scottsdale won.  In fact, Scottsdale won a few more matches against Brooks Park fighters. 

There was one female match between two girls who looked no older than fifteen years of age.  The girl named Frankie had no problem fighting on the inside.  Each time she was close up on the other boxer, Frankie would throw short but crisp punches to the head and body.  Frankie was declared the winner.  I congratulated her afterwards, and wished I could fight that well on the inside.

Another fight between two guys was stopped when one guy's nose began gushing blood after taking a direct hit.  His corner people tried to stop the flow, but couldn't get it to slow down enough so the guy could continue.  I saw the paramedics (who are always on hand at every boxing show) check him out afterwards.

I didn't count the number of matches before it was Reygie's turn, but seven to eight fights had to have taken place before that.  The boxing show started about fifteen minutes late because the coaches and officials took awhile to set up all the matches.  In the above photo, Reygie listens to instructions from Yale, who was the referee for the bout.  Alan didn't see me right away when he got to the field house, so he asked Andre to help him in the corner with Reygie.  Alan apologized, but I waved him off.  "It's okay.  Everybody needs to get the experience of working the corners," I told him.  I positioned myself near the ring with my camera.  The video wouldn't print here, but I do have it in another post.

 

 

Reygie's bout at Brooks Park

Reygie rocked his opponent a few times, but the tide changed later on.  Watch it and voice your opinion of the bout.

Before Brooks

There was a light crowd that consisted of Bean, Amy, Franco, and Reygie in addition to Alan and myself.  "Is this like this a lot?  I like this," Bean said, referring to the open space in the gym.  "It'll be like this until January," I said.  Bean was doing good for a guy who had been hit by a car recently.  It happened due to a driver not watching traffic.  He got scraped up a bit, and his bicycle was fine. 

Franco expressed some trepidation before stepping into the ring with Reygie.  They went around for a few rounds as Alan kept reminding Franco not to close his eyes, not to turn his back, and to grab Reygie's arms to slow down the onslaught. 

 

Reygie and I sparred for three rounds.  During the second round, I felt nauseous for some reason, but then it went away after I pushed through it.  I turned 51 years old over the weekend; maybe that was another sign of aging or perimenopause or both.  Reygie kept reminding me to go for his body.  I tried a shoeshine (uppercuts) when I got in close, but I wasn't that successful.  However, one of my right hooks landed the right way.  That was the second time in a few days a guy told me, "I felt that one!"

 

 

 

Franco and Reygie went another few rounds.  Reygie was switching back and forth between orthodox and southpaw stances.  Alan told Franco to move in order to avoid the right jab while Reygie was in southpaw mode. 

 

 

 



Reygie has a fight this Wednesday at Brooks Park.  Andre may have a fight, but that's not a guarantee.  I was hoping for a fight, but no women were on the list of available fighters, so the fight I had with Edith weeks ago was my last one for the year. 







Contacts and Blood

What has comedian Jack Benny have to do with boxing, you may ask.  Due to insomnia, I've become hooked on Benny's long running TV show.  Reruns are shown four nights of the week at 1:00 AM, two episodes back to back.  One episode I saw involved Benny taking a woman out to see a classical violinist give a concert.  She kept trying to get him to take her to a boxing match instead.  Benny told her no, that she was going to be exposed to some culture for a change.  They went to the concert, but she eventually got bored.  The woman pulled out a transistor radio, turned it up loud, and listened to the boxing match.  The majority of the audience members sitting around Benny and the woman got offended and they got up to leave.  Benny had to apologize to them and to the musician onstage.

While walking to church on Sunday, I ran into Bean.  He hasn't been in the gym for awhile because he's had appointments with clients.  Bean is a personal trainer.  "Money is tight, so I have to take the work when it comes," he said. 

The crowd was small at the gym tonight: Amy, Igor, Reygie, Matt and big Andre.  Andre told us about a spectacular fight that happened when some guys at a club decided to roll up on him and his cousin.  Andre described how he had taken on a couple of guys at one time, while his cousin handled two others.  One guy was throwing wild, unfocused punches, and Andre just laid the guy out. I'm still trying to figure out why the guys thought they could rush Andre; he's not a small man. The manager of the club saw what happened, and concluded correctly that Andre and his cousin were not at fault.  The cops were called on the guys who started the fight.  The only injury Andre had was when he fell on his wrist the wrong way at a point during the dust up. 

Reygie may be the only person who has a fight at Brooks Park next week.  Alan explained that Brooks doesn't have any heavyweights or Andre could have gotten a match.  There won't be any women in the show this time, either, which dashes chances for Sarah and I to see some action. 

No, Andre didn't hit Reygie and make his head go up in this shot.  Reygie had just lost one of his contacts, and the action had to be stopped momentarily.  He took both of them out, and I grabbed a latex glove to put them on.  I laid the glove on the coach's desk. 

Reygie, who is nearsighted, started making jokes about different everyone looked.  "Hillari, you look like Beyonce from afar!" he said, and we all laughed.  He also said something to Alan about looking good. 

I wish I had put the glove with the contacts somewhere else after that sparring session was over.   When Reygie went to retrieve the contacts later, one of them was gone.  Igor had his bag on Alan's desk again, and he had been over there changing his clothes to leave.  Either the contact was knocked on the floor, or it got stuck to Igor's bag or clothes and went out the door with him.  If Igor wasn't so self-absorbed all the time, he would have seen the glove with the contact lenses before he started moving stuff around.  Luckily, Reygie had another pair of contact lenses in his car.

 

Paul and Andre were hanging in there together for a couple of rounds.  That is until Paul got a bloody nose.  Alan cleaned him up and sent him back out.  It wasn't long before Andre got in another punch that made Paul's nose turn into a gusher again. I was hoping that none of the blood would get on his white shirt, but it did.  Some of it was on the canvas, too.  Alan got it up with a towel.  "You're going to have to use hydrogen peroxide to get that blood out," I told Paul. 

I sparred with Andre, too, and he encouraged me to get some hooks in.  He was in one of the corners, and he told me to just keep working.  I kept using my right hook again and again on Andre's jaw and head. There were other times during the three rounds we did where my right hook kept connecting to his head.  The first several didn't faze him, but then I delivered one that caused Andre to shake his head.  "I felt that one!" he said. 

The Return of Reggie

In the photo above, Rich shows some technique to a friend of his whom he brought to the gym Wednesday evening.  Later, Jilberto commented about how athletic she looked.  She mentioned that she plays basketball.  I wished that I had her physique.  I often think about the days when I was a size five, and I was very petite.  But those days have passed by for me.

Mary opened the gym door because Alan called to say he would be late getting there.  As she put the key in the lock, Igor gets right next to me and asks, "Teacher not coming in tonight?"  As long as Igor has been going there, he should know Alan's name by now.  He had no problem remembering the name of the former coach, so I didn't get that.  "Igor, why is it each and every time you're here all these dumb questions get asked?  I'm sorry, but that's what happens," I replied.  The statement came out of my mouth before I knew what happened.  But there was no sarcasm involved, just me wanting to understand why Igor never appears to be observant about much.  Of course, he had no answer.

I was happy to see Reggie, who gave me a big hug.  Reggie's been out of commission for about a year due to a bad knee.  He still has to have another operation to fix it, but for the time being, Reggie is ready to rumble.  "Do you think the coach could get me a fight at Brooks Park in December?" he asked me.  "You've got a month, so it could be possible," I answered. 

Reggie sparred with Rich.  Rich has become very good at picking his shots.  He calmly caught Reggie with several good jabs and rights.  Reggie was very tired afterwards, but he was happy to be back in the ring. 

Matt brought a copy of my ebook, A Woman's Guide to Boxing Gyms, and he showed me what it looked like on his cell phone.  "I liked it.  It was very informative," he told me.  I was impressed to see my ebook on an electronic device.  I'm busy planning out the next few ebooks.  They won't all be about boxing, but now that I know how to format them and where to sell them, the sky is the limit.

Sarah (shown here on the heavy bag) has become very, very good at jabbing.  She and I sparred, and I could not avoid being banged up by her jab.  Alan kept telling me to keep walking in on her and let Sarah hit my gloves so I could get close enough to get on the inside to throw punches.  That technique worked for a minute.  I was bobbing and weaving to avoid her punches, too, but that didn't help either.  "Hillari, why are you so sluggish tonight?" Alan asked.  "I must be having an off night," I replied.  "It happens," Alan said.

As we left the gym at the end of the evening, Alan asked me if I had thought about quitting sparring or at least, cutting down on doing it.  Earlier in the day, I had been thinking about that very question.  "Maybe when I'm 55 years old, I'll stop.  That's four years away.  I'll see how good I feel in the meantime.  But I have a suspicion that I'll be on a cane when I'm 60 years old," I answered.  I can see myself sitting in a doctor's office ten years from now.  The doctor will admonish me for having boxed for so long in light of whatever health problems I'll have then. Franco popped me good several times Monday night, and I shook it off.  There's no doubt I can take the hits.  It's the recovery time that's becoming longer and longer.

"Why do you ask?" I said to Alan.  He admitted that when he watches everyone else sparring, Alan wishes he could, too.  "I miss that," he said.  When I finally have to stop sparring and competing, I'm going to miss those, too.  But we all are having constant boxing matches against these opponents -- time, age, and health issues.  In the end, they're going to win. 

Ring Action on Halloween

As I approached the entrance to the field house on Halloween, I kept looking around and over my shoulder.  On the way home from work, I passed many kids doing the trick or treat business.  I just wanted to make sure that the same kids weren't outside the field house armed with eggs.

In the photo above, Kenny and Franco mix it up during sparring.  Kenny was yelling directions at Franco like he usually does whenever he's in the ring sparring with most everybody.  Franco did get some good hits in, but Kenny was tagging him more often.  I saw Alan lift up Franco's headgear in between rounds to wipe his nose with a towel.  The headgear Franco wears has a big bar across it to cover his nose.  Apparently, it still wasn't enough to prevent Kenny from popping Franco enough to cause a little bleeding. 

As Kenny and Franco started sparring, the song "It's A Thin Line Between Love and Hate" by the Intruders, began to play on Colonel's boom box.  I thought that was funny.

Kenny was asking his friend Harold -- who had also come in on Monday -- if he wanted to get some sparring in after Franco was finished.  Harold didn't answer right away, and I was suited up, so I got in with Kenny.  I like to spar, and some people offer up more of a challenge than others.  Once in awhile, I can get hits in on Kenny, but not often.  He's very quick on his feet and with his hands.  I learned early on that it was futile for me to chase him around the ring.  We would have continued, but Kenny's thumb -- the one he accidental cut the tip off of last week -- started bothering him, and we had to stop.

Then Harold -- the guy standing in this photo -- decided, what the heck.  He'd get into the ring with me.  Colonel told me, "Don't hurt the guy.  This is his first time boxing."  But Kenny whispered to me, "Tap him hard once!"  I got in a right hook, and a good straight right to Harold's stomach.  Otherwise, I went as easily as possible.  Harold kept turning his back on me, and Alan, Kenny, and Colonel kept warning him not to do that.  We only did one round.

Afterwards, Harold said, "I wasn't prepared for that.  That's a workout!" He didn't want to hit hard, because Harold said that's not what he's about.  He wants to learn the techniques.  He told me that I hit hard, and I gave my usual stock answer about having inherited my father's heavy hands.  Harold has known Kenny since they were both in 8th grade.

Rich is getting better each time he's at the gym.  Kenny asked me, "Who's that big dude who used to come in here and pick on everybody?"  "Oh. . .Leon," I answered.  "Rich could knock Leon out!  They would be a good match for each other," Kenny said.  I believe they would.  Rich really listens when Alan, or Kenny or Colonel give him instructions, and he learns fast.

Yet another picture that shows further proof that I'm very short.  Alan and I play around for the camera.

This double end bag really gives a good workout.  Colonel saw me working on it, and he said the bag was a good one for me because it's more of a reflex bag.  I gave tips to Owen how to use it.  "It works almost on the same principle as the speed bag," I told him.  "I've never used the speed bag -- yet," Owen admitted.  He tapped the double end bag a few times, but gave up on it for the moment. 

When not sparring or working with Kenny on technique, both Franco and Owen (pictured above) spend a lot of time in the hallway outside of the gym.  They jump rope, and they work a lot each other on the punch mitts.

Earlier in the evening, Alan was changing his clothes at the coach's desk.  I was watching, waiting for him to pull his pants off so I could say something smart.  I was in the ring shadow boxing.  Alan must have read my mind, because he smiled and gave me a sign to turn in the other direction.  So I smiled back and complied.  When I turned back around, he had his workout shorts on.  "I was going to make a remark as soon as you pulled those pants down," I laughed.  He pulled his shorts a bit just enough for me to catch a glimpse of the color of the boxer shorts he was wearing.  "See?  The shorts are nothing," he grinned.

Not long ago, I was riding on a bus to somewhere.  A woman got up to give me her seat because she thought I was pregnant.  Now looking at this photo, I really see how she believed that.  Eggnog season is around the corner. . . .sigh.  I really need to whittle my middle down. 

The plan is for those who want to get a fight to head up to Seward Park next week for their boxing show.  Alan is going to put in a call to see what possible match ups are available there.  I've fought at Loyola, Hamlin and Brooks, but never at Seward.  I don't remember any women who trained there, but it may be a different story this time. 

Fights and Frustrations

Ryan (in the headgear) and Gilbert (on the right) came in for a little sparring Monday evening.  Professor (in the middle) gave the young men some instruction.  He has a pair of my punch mitts on.  Professor was showing Ryan how to punch and pivot, and Gilbert jumped in the ring to help show how the technique is done.

I was a real witch (change the first letter to a 'b') to Igor today.  He started in with his usual repeating questions over and over.  Igor must have asked me four times how I was doing.  "The answer is still the same as it was before, Igor--fine," I snapped.  I came back from filling the water bottles up, and for the umpteenth time, he's walking behind me going, "Excuse me, excuse me."  "What is it?" I hissed.  "Water, water," he says. "It's over there," I replied in frustration.  This is why Steve stayed irritated with him all the time, I thought.  I wanted to really tell Igor off, and it took a Herculean effort on my part to bite my tongue.  Alan grinned at me and said, "Your tolerance is low today."  "My father's temper is coming out in me," I said. 

Ray learned that his thumb had been fractured.  "It would have healed up earlier, but I kept re-injuring it," he told me.  Jacob's thumb is still on the mend, but he said he felt some twinges of pain while sparring with Kevin.

As reported here many times, Kevin spent most of the sparring session laying on the ropes.  He told Alan, "I'm waiting for him (Jacob) to punch himself out."  Alan turned away from the ropes, and looked at me, shaking his head.  "He doesn't listen," Alan said.  Professor sat off to the other side of the ring, watching Jacob and Kevin carefully.  "Please don't stay in the corner," he told Kevin. Kevin came back with, "Keep quiet!  If you want to do this, step into the ring.  I don't need mouth from the peanut gallery."  "Oh, wow," Professor said.

I would have sparred tonight, but I did something that I've not done before in nine years of going to Loyola:  I left my mouthpiece at home.  It was still in the other bag that I brought with me to Brooks Park last week.  My only sparring option would have been Alan, or maybe Jacob.  Amy and Renee were there, but they weren't going to spar.  I was on the black heavy bag for awhile, and I felt good about my punches.  Where is that confidence when I'm in an actual fight, or during sparring for that manner?  I bet that I won't be as fresh on Wednesday if I get a chance to spar. 

Later, Professor and Alan asked me when the winter session begins.  "So this is the no man's land period?  I can come in on Wednesday and kick his ass?" Professor said, pointing to Kevin.  Before Kevin left near the end of the night, he promised Professor that he would be in the gym on Wednesday.  "I'll be here, too," Professor gleefully told him.  "Yeah, bring your mouth, too," Kevin shot back.  Have mercy, I thought to myself.  I've heard of guys in gyms having beefs with each other and settling their differences when they came in the next time.  Alan may have to jump in and do some hard regulating if Kevin and Professor have a really rough meeting.

It may look like Paul really clocked Alan here, but this is a gag shot that the men asked me to take.  They did spar earlier in the evening, but did not go the distance.  Paul was throwing a lot of punches and got burned out quickly.  He's getting better at keeping his hands up, however. 

The Night At Brooks Park

Alan told me when I called him earlier, "You can bring your gear down to Brooks Park."  "But you told me there were no opponents for me," I said.  "Well, you never know.  But it's up to you," he answered.  Both of my knees had been hurting all day, my lower back had twinges of pain here and there, and my left shoulder was a bit stiff.  But I exhibited the natural hard-headed tendencies I inherited from my late dad, and I packed a bag with my gear.  All the while, the rational side of my brain was snapping, "Girl, please!  Where is your mind?"

I took two buses to get up to Brooks Park.  When I got there, Kevin was upstairs, ready to go, shadow boxing in preparation.  Willie and Nate Sr. had some of the kids with them: Gilbert, Tall Kenny, Nate Jr., and Eric.  Unfortunately, Barry had another engagement, so he couldn't come down with the kids.  Soon, Reggie came in, and he was ready to fight as well.  "I'm nervous," he said.  "Use that energy in the ring," I told him.

While picking out familiar faces in the crowd (Shifty, Jack, Sean, Gary),  I spotted Meg.  "Oh, snap," I thought, and reality knocked me upside my head.  Our guys were called in to weigh-in, and I went in the room because Alan hadn't arrived yet.  I wanted to make sure they all got in.  Pat, one of the Park District coaches, politely asked me to step out of the room during the weigh-ins.  "Because they're stripping, y'know?" he said.  Outside the room, I chuckled to myself, and thought, "Like a woman as old as I hasn't seen that before."  I was going to weigh-in, but after I saw Meg and took stock of my creaky body, a small, still voice said to me, "Don't do it," and I didn't.  Alan was glad when I told him of my decision later. 

Meg fought a woman named Maggie in the 145 pound division.  Alan told me, "Meg's opponent is 15 pounds lighter and she's 21 years old."  Maggie caught Meg up against the ropes during the second round, something that I was never able to do during the three times Meg and I fought.  I commented on that to Alan.  "The fights you had with her were close," he said.  Meg lost, and I was surprised because she's pretty tough.   

Tall Kenny used his long arms and legs to keep his opponent off of him to get a win, but Gilbert was overwhelmed too many times by his, so he took home the second place trophy.  None of the other young men got fights.

Reggie's opponent, Chris, was about the same build as he.  Reggie was rocking the guy with shots, and one of those shots put Chris on the canvas.  Chris recovered to continue, but Reggie remained dominant.  I was acting a fool on the side, yelling, "That's right.  Get him!  All day!" 

Kevin did not get a fight.  "I know you would have fought him.  But the guy they had was too tall for you, about 6 foot 2," Alan explained to him.  Honestly, I was a little glad that Kevin didn't get a match.  Kevin's nose is broken, and still in the process of healing.  He told me he's been having trouble breathing, and that he hasn't seen a doctor yet.  "It might also be a deviated septum," I told him, thinking about when I had mine fixed a few years ago.  I still don't know how my nose was injured in the first place.  It could have been that time I was three years old and was dashed to the sidewalk after I fell out of a baby swing.  Who knows.

Tomorrow is my birthday, and no, I still haven't made a decision about whether or not to continue competing.  My glee as I packed a gear bag before I went up to Brooks tonight is a sure sign that I ain't ready to let that go yet.  Right now, I think a) my body will have to give me a clear message, like one of my wobbly knees popping out of place or b) I'll have to take a real bad beat down to stop competing.  As I've said before, we boxers can be a stubborn, crazy lot of folks.  Just ask Evander Holyfield or Roy Jones Jr. 

Sand On The Floor

I had noticed last week that the floor under the 150 pound bag was slippery.  Last night, there was a good amount of sand on the floor.  Alan and I searched the bag looking for holes.  Finally, we found two where the sand was leaking from.  We got duct tape and patched them up.  I found a broom and dustbin to get the sand up.  Alan said, "I didn't know you were that domesticated," as he watched me sweep.  "I'm not, but we can't have anyone slipping," I said.

Jamil came in and sparred with Reggie.  Jamil was thrown into the ropes at one point, but he quickly recovered.  Kevin sparred as well.  He told Alan that his nose was better, but I wondered.  Kevin was hanging on the ropes again, and again, I heard Alan tell him that he will not be able to do that during an actual fight. 

It took me a long time to become focused last night.  During the last fifteen to twenty minutes of gym time, I finally mustered up some energy.  Too many things on my mind, I guess. . . .yesterday was my mother's 79th birthday, and of course, she made no effort to reach out to me, the only one of her four kids who is still living.  It's a long, long story that doesn't really fit the scope of this blog.  Let's just say that Ma and I have not been fans of one another for a few decades.  I was also still a little ticked about some kid at church who nearly knocked me down because they were goofing off after services.  No apology was made to me; "I'm sorry" doesn't seem to be a phrase that's taught to kids at home these days.  Instead, I got "it wasn't my fault" when I complained.  The kid had also dropped a plate on the floor.  "Just get the food up off the floor," I snapped.  Of course, Pastor Roger defended the kid when I grumbled about it, but I wasn't in the mood for more excuses.  "That kid was lucky I didn't hit him," I told Pastor.

Anothet thing I was not in the mood for was Igor bugging me about when he was going to get the pictures I took of him.  "When I get the money to process them, and that won't be anytime soon," I said curtly before walking away.   It's not so much the money, because it doesn't cost that much to get it done at the drug store.  It is the time, as more often than not, something's usually wrong with the self-service film processors when I get to the store.  Besides, I'm still a little salty about how Igor pestered and demanded me to take several pictures of him.  That won't happen again, believe me.  Social grace is not something that Igor posseses, which is one of the reasons why Steve, the former coach, stayed irritated with Igor. 

So far, Reggie is only boxer in the gym whom Alan and I are reasonably sure will have a fight at Brooks Park on Wednesday.  Oscar said he wanted to fight, but he hasn't been in the gym lately.  Kenny hasn't been in much because of work.  Ray wants to fight, but work keeps him tied up a lot, too.  Jacob can't because his thumb is still healing.  I don't have an opponent, which is just as well, because frankly, I'm not prepared to fight at this time. 

While Alan drove me home, he called Colonel on his cell phone.  We had a chance to talk to him.  The poor guy is still in a lot of pain following his hip replacement surgery, but he was still able to crack jokes. 

Dancing In The Boxing Gym

Tall Kenny (pictured above) came in for extra practice.  He's fighting at Brooks Park next week.  I wanted to fight, but there was no opponent for me.  Later, Alan said he had forgotten to put a bid in for me to get a fight.  "You've got to grab and let me know that you want to fight," he said.  "There'll be a next time," I said, but I wonder.  It was suggested by my stepmother that the fight I had in October should have been my last one.  She pointed out how I was breathing hard and ran out of gas then.  I'm thinking that perhaps she's right, but then, I was looking forward to trying to get a trophy at Brooks.  It would have been a nice birthday present (my birthday is the day after the Brooks show).  If there is a last hurrah for me, it'll be a long time coming, since I'm usually not able to pick up fights until around the holidays, so my last, last fight may not be until late 2012.  I keep going back and forth with this, I know.

Activity in the gym was pumped up tonight.  Colonel brought more of his old school music in, and this time, he brought a great sounding boombox with him, the type that you plug an iPod into.  Leon was impressed so much by the music that he asked Colonel to download the songs on his iPod.  In between rounds of practice, I was stepping to a lot of the tunes.  Ray came in, heard the music and said, "Colonel got the dusties on?"  Colonel told me he had about 70 to 80 songs on there, but more were at home.  But he didn't want to download much of what his son had.  "My son likes all that rap, and I don't understand that.  Why is it that every MF on the stage in a rap concert has a microphone?  Back in the day there were only two mics -- one for the lead singer and one for the rest of the group!" he said.  "Like The Temptations, for example," I said while imitating the moves of David Ruffin on one mic, and of the other group members on the other mic.  "You are telling your age!" Colonel laughed.  "I'm Your Puppet" by James and Bobby Purify was one of the songs that came on.  As many times as I've heard that song -- I believe I was five or six when it was first released -- it never occurred to me that it's a good song to which to step.  Each time Reggie would catch me dancing, he'd laugh.  "Hillari, teach me how to step!" he said, so I showed him the basic six count that was taught to me by Willie. 

The sparring action involved Reggie, Ray, Oscar, Leon, and Kevin.  Something happened between Kevin and Oscar while my back was turned.  Oscar was laying on the canvas, then he sat up and took his gear off.  Several of us gathered around the ropes to see what was going on.  From what I gathered, Kevin had been pressuring Oscar the whole round, then Oscar ended up being pushed down. 

In the photo above, Kevin leans against the ropes, waiting on Ray to make a move.  Alan told him awhile later, "Kevin you've got to listen to me when you're in there."  Kevin's nose had been injured; I'm not sure by whom.  Alan suggested that he not spar for a couple of weeks.  "I'm 37 years old.  The clock is ticking," Kevin said, explaining why he didn't want to beg off of sparring.  "It doesn't matter.  What is two weeks to wait?" Alan told him.  I believe Kevin would have loved to get a fight at Brooks, but in light of his injury, that wouldn't be a good idea. 

Again, I was working on throwing my right correctly.  Ever since I was hit by a car back last winter, I've had an aversion to turning my right side into the punch and putting my full weight into it.  Several months ago, I couldn't turn properly because my left knee -- which took the brunt of the hit -- was so painful and unstable that I couldn't do it.  Now that it's healed (as much as it's going to be healed), I've developed a bad habit of not executing that punch the way it's supposed to be.  I'll be working on that for awhile. 

I told Pastor Roger that I might get Isaac another toy, one of those inflatable punching toys that one hits and it pops right back up.  My younger siblings and I had several of those when we were kids.  "It'll be good practice for boxing," I told the pastor.  "I don't want my son to learn violence," he said.  "But boxing is a gentlemanly sport," I protested.  Pastor smiled and said, "You can use the argument that boxing is mentioned in the Bible to convince my wife that it would be good thing for Isaac to take lessons."  It certainly sounds as if shadow boxing is being referenced in 1 Corinthians 9:26.  After all, the sport did originate in Greece, which is one of the countries referenced in the Good Book.