Baby Boxing

Every time I see Isaac, Pastor Roger and Virginia's son, I comment on how big the boy's hands are.   I had the pleasure of holding him in my arms last week.  His mom had to step away for a few moments, and I had agreed to watch the baby.  "You're just a big, strapping, healthy boy, aren't you?" I cooed as I held him up in the air.  He responded by become agitated.  "She'll be back, I promised," I said, in a vain attempt to soothe him.  I have to give Virginia credit for carrying him around all the time.  Isaac is a whopper. 

"As soon as you start walking, the boxing lessons will begin," I always tell the baby.  It's funny to see the suspicious looks that Isaac gives me when I say that.  His expression seems to say, "Yeah right, chick.  Daddy already told me about you."  His parents smile, but Pastor is not a boxing fan, and I don't think Virgina, like a lot of moms, want to see their child giving and taking punches.  It's an idea, though.  I'm of the mind that all boys -- and the girls, too -- should know how to defend themselves.  If I had children, I'd be that parent that principals and teachers would hate.  The scenario would go like this: I would be summoned to the school because my kid beat up another kid.  I'd ask my son/daughter what happened. As soon as I learned my kid was standing up for themselves against a bully, I'd inform the principal and teachers, "I've taught them to hit back and hit hard to back someone off of them.  I'm not raising my kid to be a victim.  Nor am I going to make it my problem because the school can't seem to put bullies in check."   My mother basically said the same thing when schools would call her about me.  In addition, I'd fight any suspension or expulsion that was handed down to my kid. 

Roland came into the gym last night and talked to Alan about taking lessons.  Alan told him that he had to come back on Tuesday or Thursday to talk to Barry.  You see, Roland is 12 years old going on thirteen.  I talked to him also, emphasizing that boxing lessons are free for those under age eighteen.  "Coach Barry is going to want to talk to your parent or guardian, because he wants to make sure they're gonna be cool with you boxing," I said.  Roland understood, and he was okay with that.  He told me that he saw me fight during last year's Loyola Park Boxing show.  "It wasn't easy because she was bigger than me," I said, not mentioning that she was also younger.  "That when you have to have heart," Roland smiled.

Alan told Leon that I had boxed in that show, and the big man was surprised.  "She sang the National Anthem, too, and then turned around and fought," Alan grinned.  "For real?  She's got all kind of action going on," Leon laughed. 

Matthieu sparred with the Colonel for a couple of rounds.  Sarah and I sparred after that, and we were back to throwing harder punches.  Once Sarah gets going, she never lets up on the ol' one-two.  She hit me in my right eye and knocked me silly.  My vision was off for several minutes behind that, but I kept going.  She kept backing me up into the ropes and the corners, and Alan called out, "Hillari, keep punching while backing up!"  Not easy to do, especially when the other person is taller and has long arms.  We went for three full rounds.  After the last bell, I heard Alan tell Sarah that while it was good that she kept punching, she might not be able to do that easily against an opponent who is her size and height. 

Erica appeared at my side while Jacob sparred with Mike L (there have been so many guys named Mike in that gym; I have to keep them all straight).  "It wouldn't be gym time if I didn't come around and harass you," she smiled.  She had stepped out of the room when her boyfriend Matthieu sparred with the Colonel.  Mike L. took a few hard pops in the face from Jacob, and she winced.  Erica admitted that she had never been hit in the face, nor had been ever been in a fight.  "I don't know how I would take that.  If I would back off and say, 'Okay, this is a sport', or if I would get angry," she said.  "I think sometimes the guys have a hard time differentiating when it comes to that," I answered, thinking about the matches I had seen in the amateurs and the professionals ranks that turned into personal wars.  Thank God I haven't been in any sparring sessions that went that way; I've seen some of those come dangerously close to becoming street fights, too. 

Professor brought his girlfriend Kelly to the gym for a second time, and he formally introduced her to everyone.  She got in a workout, including throwing around the medicine ball with some of the other guys. 

Alan made an annoucement that those who haven't paid the boxing fee yet have to do that by Monday.  There are several who haven't done that yet.  "It's unfair to the people who have paid to be in here.  Also, the gym is small and it gets crowded quickly when there's a lot of people who are in here working out but who are not paid up."  The small space is one of the main reasons why the gym can't operate on a drop-in basis, even if the rules changed to allow people to pay day fees to workout. 

The Bullying Kind

You would think that working at a church would mean not having to deal with irritations.  There's one particular guy who gets on my last nerve.  He frequents the food pantry at church, and is always trying to scam his way around the rules.  I don't even answer his calls anymore.  Each time he calls, he's rude and disrespectful to me, mainly because I'm onto him.  On top of that, he expects me to do his leg work.  The guy never keeps up with the times he's supposed to come to the pantry.  Then he wants to know what is available before he decides to "make a long walk" to church.  The last time he did that I snapped, "I have arthritis in both of my knees.  I'm not about to run up and down the stairs to check on your appointment or give you a menu of what's down there.  If you want to know that, walk over here."  Pastor Roger is always telling me to be nice and sympathetic, as we do have several characters who frequent the food pantry that sorely try my patience.  However, my tolerance for nonsense is going down as I get older, not up. 

I don't even know what the guy in question looks like, because I don't usually go downstairs during the food pantry hours on Mondays.  Nor am I usually at church when the doors open for the Tuesday afternoon food pantry  I keep saying that I'm going to catch the guy and threaten him with the possibility of being permanently banned from using the food pantry.  But I haven't (as of yet).  I guess it's not in me to be a bully.

Maybe that's the reason behind me not always returning fire as I should whenever I spar (or during the last two fights I had).  My late sister Cindy had a talent for bullying people, and many were intimidated by her.  It's not that I won't step to someone whom I find annoying, irritating, or has threatened me.  But Cindy liked to do that, and I'd rather be peaceful most of the time.  I think that boxers have to have a bit of a bullying attitude in them in order to be successful. 

Joe, a coach who knows Alan, came in last night with Chloe, a fighter of his.  Joe can also been seen working the corners of various fighters sometimes on ESPN's "Friday Night Fights".  I sparred with Chloe, who looked to be fifteen years younger than I.  She also weighed less.  But Joe taught her well.  A right hook from her nearly floored me.  "I thought you lost your balance," Alan said later,  "No, it was the punch!" I replied.  I got a good body shot in, but like Alan noted, I ate most of her jabs with my head.  "Remind me that we need to work on some jab and catch drills," Alan told me.  Later, after I got home, I felt the rest of the pummeling I took.  "Don't get too friendly with her, because you might be fighting her down the line," Alan joked. 

I overheard Joe and Alan talking.  "She's had two fights," Alan told Joe, referring to me.  "With whom?" Joe asked.  "Meg," Alan answered.  "Oh, yeah, she's one of Bill's fighters at Hamlin," Joe said.  "She's a fire fighter, you know," Alan said.  "Really?  Meg's good," Joe said.  Don't I know it, I thought.

I lent Jamil the memory card from my digital camera.  He said he knows some people who could possibly get the videos I recorded of him and others sparring off of the card and onto YouTube.  Jamil begged off sparring last night.  St. Louis had given him a black eye the week before.  "My father saw my eye and he was trippin' about it, so I don't want to come home with another black eye so soon", he told me.

Kevin, John and Carlos didn't come in last night, and Alan and I were concerned.  The sign up for the Golden Gloves is at the end of next week.  "I hope they're not changing their minds about competing," Alan said.