Good News At The Top of the Year

The photo above is from my high school's annual alumni holiday party that took place late last month.  The lady standing to my right has been a friend of mine since we met on the first day of Kindergarten in September of 1966.  She got on me -- and probably rightfully so -- when she learned of my recent health problems with my back.  "I told you!  That's what you get for all that boxing," she said.  Maybe boxing did contribute to some of it.  I'll find out after I get an MRI later this month.

Ariel finally re-signed up for the teen boxing class.  I was so happy she did that; y'all just don't know.  She's my best fighter right now.  It'll be her, Maz, and Donovan (who I switched to the teen class because of his height and weight) in class together.  They will come in the door already knowing the routine.  All I have to is to convince a few more teens to sign up.

There are eight kids that will start this week in the 12 and under class.  That class is more than half full, and I'm satisfied with that.  However, the only familiar name in the class at the moment is my favorite pigeoned-toed guy, James.  His father came in last week to sign him up.  I explained to him that the only reason James didn't get any park district fights was because the other coaches were concerned about his son hurting their fighters during bouts.  James is bigger than average nine-year-olds and he still needs to lose between 20 to 30 pounds.  "It's hard to get a kid to lose five pounds," his dad told me.  Between James' parents and I, we'll work on the weight issue.

Do you know this blog was used against me when I was fired from a job I had at a neighborhood church four years ago?  The pastor there didn't like that I aired my grievances against him during our conflicts.  I did go back and edit some of the entries, but I shouldn't have done that.  My blog, my thoughts.  I write what I want. "I have freedom of speech," I snapped at him during a meeting where he manipulated the congregation into also revoking my 30-plus-years membership. Well, at the top of this year, I received news that pastor has resigned.  Actually, it was suggested that a resignation would look better on his resume than to have been fired, which was definitely going to happen.  I gloated for a minute because payback is a bitch.  I learned some time ago that all I have to do is wait, and I will see misfortune visited upon those who messed with me.  There's no doubt that the guy brought all of this on himself.  But it's also sad.  Pushing fifty years of age with no job, has a wife at home that he refuses to let work (and unfortunately, she likes being a Stepford wife), with two young kids to take care of at that?  Wow.  Now he knows what it is to be counted out.

The Guys Put In Work

Jamil sparred with Johnny last night. He was hit on the arm, and it kept hurting and wouldn't stop. I figured he might have over-extended a punch, as well. "Alternate between putting ice on it and putting heat on it," I told him. I hope it doesn't get worse.

Carlos, the workhorse, sparred with all of the guys including Ralphie, who is real slick in the ring. "You can spar with whoever is left," Alan told me. No other women showed up last night.

While I was watching Carlos and Ralphie, I felt a light tapping on my back. I turned around and looked down to see Carlos' little boy, Justin. "Tomorrow is the first day of school for me. I'm going to Kindergarten," he smiled. "You'll like Kindergarten," I smiled back. I can't remember my first day of Head Start, but I still remember the first day I was in Kindergarten. I met a girl, Clintonia, who had her head down on the desk. The teacher, Miss Sheffield, introduced us. "I don't like being here!" she told me. I was a little taken aback because I was excited to be there. I had been bugging Ma about wanting to go to school ever since I was two years old. Clintonia and I also attended first and second grade together. We're still friends today. She became a grade school teacher.

"You'll learn your colors, your numbers, and your letters," I told Justin. "I'll learn how to write my name," he said. "Do you know how to read?" I asked him. He shook his head. For a second, I thought that was odd that a five-year-old doesn't know how to read, but that's normal. Just because I knew how to read when I was three, doesn't mean every kid should know how that early.

Alan was already missing Matthew, whom he took to military school last week. He was assured by the people there that his son will be taken care of, but there was still the "empty nest" thing going on. From what he told me, the military school is very dedicated to building up young men.

"Looks like all of the guys are tired out," Alan grinned after Carlos and Ralphie came out of the ring. "That's okay. I'm not going to make them spar with me," I laughed. The coach talked to Carlos about getting a fight at Simons Park next Friday. "Isn't that Johnny Heard's gym?" Alan asked, and I nodded. Mr. Heard was a professional boxer. I was listening to an interview Heard gave back in 2004, around the time of the Golden Gloves Finals for that year. "Boxing is all about money these days. You don't see guys doing slipping, etc., they just want to get in there and knock each other's heads off," Heard told the reporter. That is true to an extent, even though there are still boxers who prize technique. That appears to be the main fault with MMA, where the competitors just want to take someone out as quick as possible.