Most Show Up

Last night, most of the ones on the attendance list came to the gym.  Of the few who didn't appear, I noticed most were women.  I sighed to myself. 

Demond (got his name right from Monday night) came in again, along with Eric and 6 foot 4 Patrick.  I didn't catch the names of most of the other new people, except for Diana.  Alan had gone over some basics with the new people and then sent them out to practice in the mirrors and on the bags.  "I don't want to spar," Diana told me.  She does want to build up strength in her arms.  I told her that boxing would definately help with that. 

Carlos and I sparred, and I tried to get some uppercuts in.  I was on the inside, but he covers up very well.  I couldn't break through his defense.  I did get some good left and right hooks in on his head, however.  I hadn't been able to do that on anyone in a long, long time.  My straight lefts and rights went nowhere.  Carlos was very adapt at slipping those.  I had to settle for ocassionally getting hooks in to his body. 

I commented that Carlos' Energizer Bunny stamina must be coming back, after he went several rounds with Ralphie.  They both worked in some good head shots on each other. 

This morning I went into to work to take care of stuff for Easter this Sunday.  It ocurred to me that it's April Fools Day, and I hadn't pulled any jokes of that type in years.  While walking to church, I racked my brain for a joke to pull on Pastor Roger.  I was going to plaster my face with bandages and pretend that I had been badly banged up in the gym.  Then I got a better idea.

I heard him coming in the door downstairs.  Quickly, I hurried into his office and laid face down on the floor, giving the impression that I had collapsed.  He walked into his office, and called my name several times.  I didn't move.  While in high school, I was often complimented on my ability to play as if I had fainted or I had died in theater classes.  When it sounded as if Pastor had grabbed his phone to call the ambulance (and he had also called for Olga, who was in church at the time, to rush into his office), and sat up and grinned "April Fools!"  "That wasn't nice," Pastor said, but he was grinning. 

Easy First Night of the Session

Three new guys: Devon (I'll get his name right soon), Patrick, and Eric came in for the first evening of the Spring session.  After Carol and BK struggled with the uncooperative gym door -- which often sticks -- all were able to enter the gym.

As for the guys who normally come in, only Carlos showed up.  He had been debating whether or not to do so, since everyone knew Alan was going to be absent last night.  No coach means no sparring, which is probably why the other guys didn't come in.  But Carlos figured he'd get in some time on the bags anyway. 

I went over general rules of the gym with the new guys, then showed them the basic stance, how to throw lefts and rights, and how to move.  They all thanked me at the end of the evening.  "I hope it was helpful.  I think Alan explains it better," I said.  Patrick replied, "I didn't know anything about boxing, so it was fine."  Sometimes, I feel so tongue-tied and scatterbrained when I'm explaining boxing technique to others.  That's why I always listed to Steve in the past and now, Alan, everytime I heard it being explained to someone else.  In fact, the speech I give about the general rules of the gym is very close to what Steve used to tell new people. 

The evening went smoothly with no out-of-pocket incidents.  A couple of guys came and stood in the door earlier, but we talked about Mayweather, Mosely, Pachiao, and Roy Jones, Jr.  They were just curious about the gym, and they left after a few minutes.  I was very glad that Jordan didn't make another appearance.  I wasn't in the mood to go back and forth with him about gym protocol.

Alan's Shiner

"That doesn't look good," I said to Alan, when he walked in sporting a black eye yesterday.  It was a result of sparring with Sadiq on Monday night.  Alan said that his wife wasn't happy to see his eye like that at all.  "I know she wasn't," I grinned.  I learned later that Alan and his wife had been high school sweethearts.  She had been his first girlfriend.  They broke up at one point, but years later, found their way back to each other.

Alan had put headgear on, and he was ready to spar with Jamil.  As if on cue, Carlos walked in.  "Since he's here, you can go with him," Alan said to Jamil.  Alan said something about having a chance to heal.  I told him that I needed to heal as my excuse for not sparring that night.  That scrape on my left leg from when a wooden riser fell on it still hurts.  My right elbow has been sore for a couple of weeks, and I just was feeling out of sorts.  "Maybe we both need to take up golf," Alan smiled. 

Using my digital camera and a new memory card, I recorded Carlos and Jamil sparring.  Carlos hit Jamil once too many times in the mid-section.  After the third time, Jamil turned his back and retreated one side of the ring.  He didn't complete the round.  Alan stepped in with a punch shield to work with Carlos on punches.

Ralphie came in later in the evening. His upper back had been bothering him, and that kept him out of the Golden Gloves.  But he announced that he was feeling better.  

I stopped into church this afternoon to check to see if I had received some Esperanto material I had ordered. People wonder why I would bother studying an artificial language that appears to be not as popular as Spanish, Chinese, French, etc.  I've been interested in it since 2002, but I haven't been as diligent as studying it as I should have.  I really want to learn how to speak a language, but I digress.  Pastor was telling me about a middle-aged couple in church who are looking forward to having their first child.  "Maybe you'll marry a guy with children," Pastor said.  "I don't want to be a step-mama," I said.  "The guy may have grown children, so you'll be more like a friend to his kids.  Who knows?  Maybe the guy will have daughters to who you can teach boxing," Pastor grinned.  "My niece Jalissa has said she'd like to get married and have kids someday.  I could teach her kids how:  'Let your grand-aunt show you how to throw a punch,' " I said. 

Old Men and An Old Thorn

I was filling up the water bottles at the fountain when I looked up to see Jordan walking into the field house.  My first thought was, "Oh, hell no."  Those of you who have been reading for awhile remember that Jordan was a thorn in mine and Steve's side for awhile.  A friend was tagging behind him.  I quickly finished what I was doing and hurried back down to the gym.  Alan had to be warned.

He hadn't been inside the room for five minutes when he started hitting the heavy bag with no wraps on, as usual.  His friend stood to one side and looked everyone over. Alan was in a conversation with Joe, who was waiting for Chloe to arrive.  I heard Jordan ask Alan about getting a workout in, unaware that the days of freebies is over for the most part.  Alan told him he had to sign up at the front desk.  In what looked like a vain attempt to impress his friend and maybe the others who were there, Jordan pulled down a jump rope.  He only skipped a few times before going back to the heavy bag.  "You do remember the rules about not hitting the heavy bag without hand wraps on, right?" I said evenly.  Jordan gave me a look that I guess was supposed to intimidate as well as impress.  It accomplished neither.  "I can take it," he said, as he went back to hitting it.  "That's not the point.  It tears the bag up," I said in a murderously calm tone.  Seeing that he wasn't going to get anywhere that night, Jordan and his friend left.  Later, I gave Alan the 411 about Jordan's issues.

During the second round that Chloe and I sparred, I found myself becoming nauseous.  It couldn't have been the mouthpiece.  I've finally gotten used to having it in my mouth after all these years.  I had gotten tired, Chloe was laying on the pressure, and suddenly, I wasn't feeling so hot.  Bless her heart, Chloe told me she would go easy, and we finished the round.  "You really gave an old lady a run," I grinned.  Chloe's going straight to the Golden Gloves finals.  She was supposed to have a semi-final fight, but her opponent got pregnant.  "I've never had that happen before with a fight," Joe said.

Sadiq came in, and it was good to see him.  He wants to get another boxing license, which will be his third.  The first was stolen, along with his bag, out of the gym a few years ago.  The second one he used to participate in a show fight, but he never got it back.

Sadiq and Alan sparred, and somewhere along the way, the two men decided to throw bombs at each other.  Alan hit the canvas at one point.  "Are you okay?" I asked from the other side of the ropes.  "It was a slip," Alan said.  Sadiq then got Alan in the face with a couple of solid punches.  When Alan removed his headgear, he discovered he had a mouse under his eye.  "That's going to look real good walking into work with.  It's really going to be something to come home with, and my wife sees it.  She's going to say, 'And how old are you?  Why were you sparring?' " he grinned.

I was accepted as a writer with the Examiner (http://www.examiner.com), so now I've got to figure out what boxing stories to write.  The account of Carlos' Golden Gloves fight will probably be the first article, and I have ideas for the ones to follow.

Anthony and I were the last boxers in the gym at the end of the night.  Alan told us about a traffic incident he was involved in that nearly turned ugly.  Despite the fact that words were exchanged, Alan would have let it go.  But then the other guy said something along the lines of, "You think you're bad?  Bring it on, Pops!"  Some younger men don't get that calling a guy an old man is akin to starting a war.  I heard comedian Steve Harvey on the radio telling a story about a young blood attempting to challenge him.  "My hands may be old, but they still know how to put a hurting on someone," Harvey spat. 

"That's all he called you?  You know how many names I've been called over the years?"  Anthony said, and both he and I fell out laughing.  "I know I shouldn't have let it get to me, but I just don't like being called that," Alan grinned.  Fortunately, the other guy walked away from Alan before any actual punches were thrown.  I would have paid to see that, if it had jumped off.  My money would have been on Alan.  

Friday Night Out

The best fight of the night at the Golden Gloves yesterday was the 14th one.  During the first round, there was clearly an underdog.  Then the underdog decided they were going to be as dominant as their opponent.  The bout turned into an out-and-out brawl, which included both boxers throwing each other to the canvas several times.  The night before, I had written about Carlos' fight and submitted it as a writing sample to the Chicago Examiner.  "This is the fight you should have written about," Alan told me.  The crowd rose to their feet several times during that fight. 

There were high hopes for Young Ed's fight, where he ended up fighting the guy from Garfield Park who has the exact same name he does.  The fight was the fourth of the night, and Young Ed appeared very confident, giving fast punches to his opponent.  But a nasty surprise showed up less than a minute into the first round.  The Garfield Park boxer knocked Young Ed to the canvas with a right hand so quick that most barely saw it land.  Anthony was sitting to my left along with John and Carlos, and Alan was sitting to my right.  JJ was sitting further down on the row.  All of us were stunned.  Young Ed was shaky when he got up, but appeared to recover by the time the referee, "Gentleman" Gerald Scott,  got to him.  But the referee waved his hands in the air to stop the fight.  We all agreed that the fight was stopped too fast.

John and St. Louis had to wait a long time to fight.  John's fight was number 22 and St. Louis was number 24 on the fight roster.  "Shit!  I have to wait a long fucking time," John exclaimed. He ended up going back out to get something to put on his stomach.  John called his girlfriend and asked her to come down to St. Andrew's around 10:00 PM.  We estimated that's when he probably would fight. 

Before John's fight, Alan pulled a business card out of his pocket.  "I don't have my glasses with me, so I can't read it," he said, handing it to me.  It was for a strip club.  Alan pointed out the woman who gave it to him.  I had seen her in the woman's washroom earlier, preening in the mirror with a friend of hers. Both women looked as if they worked at the club. "You don't need this," I joked, acting as if I was not going to give the card back.  Alan put it back in his pants pocket.  "I'd like to read it later on," he grinned.

It was actually after 10:30 PM when that match took place.  I worked the corner for John's fight, the first time I have worked anyone's corner as a coach.  The match barely got rolling when John got into trouble.  "Shit, he got an eight count," I thought to myself.  "Keep your hands up!  You have to punch, John!" Alan barked.  It wasn't long before "Gentleman" Gerald gave him another eight count after John's opponent continued to put the heat on him.  Normally, the only person in the boxer's corner who is supposed to be talking is the coach.  However, at one point, I was calling out a warning to John after he took some punishing shots.  John bent over near the ropes and didn't return punches.  His opponent set off a barrage of hooks to his head.  The referee stopped it.  "Damn", I thought.  John took the loss well.  His girlfriend, a pretty Asian woman, hugged and kissed him after the bout. 

During St. Louis' fight, Anthony was of the opinion that St. Louis appeared to look sharper while sparring in the gym.  "It happens that all the time when all the stuff picked up in sparring gets forgotten when one is in a real match," I said.  Carefully constructed game plans in the gym often get blown away by the opponent's agenda. St. Louis was popped a few times, and he popped back.  Then he got winded.  There was a lot of clinching going on.  When the dust cleared, St. Louis had lost.  St. Louis is signed up at Loyola Park, but he fought under Joe's organization, which is Go Time.  We count St. Louis as our own, so when he lost, that meant everyone from Loyola was out of the tournament. 

Several guys sitting behind me commented on a couple of the later fights.  A boxer during one bout made the mistake of coming out of his corner angry.  He kept leaping at his opponent, who met his actions with well-timed punches each time.  A boxer in the second fight thought his build would carry him to a win.  When he lost, the guy sitting directly behind me told his buddies,  "See, that pretty muscle shit don't work all the time."  I turned to look at him, and he apologized, thinking I was offended by his choice of words.  "Oh, no, you're right," I told him.     
 
The announcers pointed out a few celebrities in the audience.  There was a 95-year-old who won the Golden Gloves back in 1934, plus professional boxer David Estrada.  Estrada previously fought "Sugar" Shane Mosley, and he'll appear on ESPN's "Friday Night Fights" sometime in April.  The Pope, a hip-hop/dance recording artist, was also in attendance.  "Who's that?" Alan asked.   "You don't listen to rap or hip-hop," I smiled.  "No, only talk radio and easy listening," Alan grinned.

"But You're Too Pretty To Box!"

Things in the gym seem to intensify around the time of the Golden Gloves.  Even those of us who aren't in the tournament appear to step up our training.  Alan and I sparred, and he kept telling me to go for his head.    Outside of the fact that he's taller than I, I don't know why I kept aiming for his shoulders.  Maybe it's a mental thing I have about hitting people in the face.  I never seemed to have a problem doing that when I was younger during fights with my siblings and kids on the street. 

Earlier today, I went to talk with an administrator at DePaul University about taking a paralegal course.  It's been two years since I was laid off of my job at the social service agency as of this month.  There is zero desire to be a secretary/administrative assistant again.  The time has long been past for me to make a career change.  I had a very pleasant and informative visit with the administrator.  He noticed I was wearing a boxing hoodie.  I explained that I boxed, and he was floored.  "But, but. . .you're too pretty to box!" he exclaimed.  Now I've had others tell me the usual stuff like, "You can get hurt!", but that was a new one on me.  I was tickled.

Tonight was finally Carlos' turn to box at the Gloves.  He was still fighting the cold that seems to have plagued him for weeks.  He thought he might have picked it up at the barbershop where he gets his hair cut.  Carlos' fight came up rather quick after the third, fifth and sixth fights of the evening all ended by stoppage.  His opponent was a guy who looked to be about 6 foot 2.  Carlos is 5 foot 8.  John volunteered to help Alan in the corner.

Both guys were equally aggressive in the first round.  Carlos got some good hooks to the body.  It looked as if he was going to cut the guy down to size by doing those.  His opponent, Matt, hunted for Carlos's head during the second round.  Carlos remained focused on Matt's body.  Carlos looked hesitant.  Later, he would say that he was winded from the first round.  There was a lot of holding going on.  As soon as Carlos would go in for the inside shots, Matt would grab Carlos and smother him.  The holding continued throughout the third round, where Carlos didn't throw many punches.  The win went to Matt.

"I failed," Carlos said afterwards.  "Well, you got the nervous energy out," I told him.  Carlos plans to lose weight -- he's 195 pounds -- because he thinks he would do better at a lighter weight. 


 

Skin Off My Leg

Joe came in and brought Chloe with him.  Natalie couldn't come with them because she was ill.  Chloe and Joe worked the pads until it was time for me to spar with her.  Chloe was really laying on the punches.  Afterwards, she apologized to me for going hard.  "I understand.  You've got a fight coming up at the Gloves," I said.  No offense taken.  "I'll be back in a couple of weeks hopefully with a win," she said.  I believe she has a great chance of winning.

After sparring, I was contending with the odd shaped black speed bag.  I don't like using that particular bag, but I've been trying to get used to it.  Someone had readjusted the height of the speed bag platform.  Instead of struggling to get it back down to where I could reach the bag, I opted to stand on one of the two blue steps in the gym.  Right below the bag were a couple of small wooden platforms.  I used to stand on those before the steps mysteriously appeared in the gym.  I guess the vibration of my hitting the speed bag was too much.  Either that, or the wooden platforms weren't stacked against the wall properly.  One of them fell and took a chunk of skin out of my left leg.

The open sore reminded me of a bad scrape I received on my left knee when I was in Kindergarten.  Ma came to pick me up from school that afternoon.  I hadn't figured out how to walk to school and back by myself at that point.  Instead of walking down the school steps normally, I decided to take a running leap.  Ma talked about me all the way to the A&P, which was the closest grocery store to our apartment.  "Look at at that!  That looks bad!" she snapped, as blood slowly ran down my leg and stained my sock. 

Luckily, I keep Band Aids and moist towelettes in my gym bag.  But I didn't have any cotton balls or tissues to stop the blood.  Usually there are paper towels in the gym, but none were to be found.  I wasn't about to use any of the old towels laying around.  Both Barry and Alan use those to wipe blood from the faces of the boxers.  I have no idea the last time any of those towels were washed -- if they get washed.  I found a tampon in my bag and used that.  Well. . .it does soak up blood.  If any of the guys recognized what I was using to tend to my wound, they didn't say anything.  I noticed a few minutes ago that the wound was oozing -- I know that doesn't sound pleasant -- so I cleaned it again and changed the Band Aid. 

"Carlos told me that he's sick," Alan said, shaking his head.  Carlos thought he might have picked up the ongoing sniffles from his five year old son.  His youngest son, who's a baby, is not around other kids most of the time, but Justin, who's in Kindergarten, is.  "It's probably due to germs from the other kids," Carlos said.  I hope he feels better by fight time this Thursday.

Another Postponement

Twenty fights took place yesterday at the Golden Gloves.  John was not one of the fighters.  Like Carlos the other night, John's time to fight has been put off until next week.  He was hoping his match would be on the same day that Carlos has his, but their fights are on different days.  Carlos is scheduled for this upcoming Thursday.  If Pastor and Virginia are able to attend the Gloves then, they'll get to see him fight.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Alan asked me.  "Not currently," I replied.  "You sure clean up well.  You could have been one of the ring girls," Alan grinned.  "I usually don't wear makeup often, but I figured I'd put some on tonight.  I'm surprised there are no ring girls here tonight," I smiled.  "They're probably saving them for the finals," Alan said.  Ring girls are unnecessary in my opinion.  The worst is when they appear at women's boxing matches.  There you have women in the ring taking care of serious business, then here come some half-dressed chicks parading around with signs.  It makes no sense.

I had been thinking about Antonio, the MMA fighter who used to come to Loyola Park to work on his boxing skills.  He was at the Gloves Saturday night; I didn't recognize him at first.  It was good to see him.  He's got a boxing match coming up in New York City soon.  He also has a MMA fight coming up soon here.  He trains at a gym up on Elston, which I will have to go and check out.  

Friday Night On Addison

Carlos was shaved clean.  He and Alan sat near the front entrance of St. Andrew's Gym.  I had been there for about a half-hour before I noticed them at the other end of the building.  "I just wish I could get it over with," Carlos said, referring to his fight.  "You're in there for about six minutes, but you have to wait two or three hours before you get into the ring," Alan commented. 

The familiar faces were in attendance: Rita, Percy, Ted, Tracy, JJ, Rico, Alan R., Mike Q., Gentleman Jim, Gino, Chupa, Sam, and many others.  I met a guy named Little John while we both waited on the Addison bus.  Little John had won the Gloves back in 1991.  Johnny B., a fight promoter, showed us his hands.  "See? I got into a fight on the street," he said.  "You're too old to fight," Alan said.  "That's what's the other guy thought," Johnny B. laughed. 

Bill, the coach at Hamlin, told me that he has another girl for me to fight.  "She's a total novice, unlike Meg," he told me.  After the two fights I had with Meg, this new girl may be easy pickings.  But it's never a good idea to underestimate any fighter. 

Sam told Alan that referees were in short supply.  There's a pro fight going on elsewhere this weekend, and it seems most of them will be officiating there.  Sam said, "I'm trying to get some of these retired boxers to become referees and judges."  Alan later told me, "The referees are a tight group to get into," which I figured they were.  I've only seen a woman ref a fight once, and that was at a Park District bout.  She didn't look as if she was an official referee, but someone who had been pressed into service at the last minute to replace someone else.

Ted posted the fights, but Carlos' name did not come up.  His fight date has been postponed until March 18th.  "You've got more time to train," I told him.  Carlos had been antsy all night, and he was a bit disappointed.  "I know, but I really wanted to go tonight," he said.  Carlos and Alan watched a few more of the fights, and then they cut out early.  I stuck around until the end.  The first four bouts of the evening all followed the same pattern.  One boxer would get a couple of eight counts, then the next time around, the fight would be stopped on them.  One boxer kept turning his back on his opponent, and the ref had seen enough. 

I believe the Addison bus going eastbound stops running after 9:30 PM, so I walked back to the Addison Red Line train stop.  When the train showed up, I wondered, "Why is it so packed?"  I had forgotten that people are out celebrating St. Patrick's Day this weekend.  Some obnoxious and most likely drunk guy on the car I stepped on decided he was going to be a welcome ambassador to the new passengers.  I and several other ignored him.  The partygoers on the train thought the guy was funny and indulged him.  Those of us who wanted to have a peaceful ride were happy when it was announced that the train was going express.  The riff-raff, no doubt on their way to bars, got off. 

Thursday's Tune Up For The Golden Gloves

Alan opened the gym last night in order for John and Carlos to get in some extra last minute training.  I was there, too.  I beat all three of them to the gym; the guys were late.

Carlos said his hand was bothering him, but that he hoped it would be okay.  He has a fight tonight at the Golden Gloves.  Carlos looked tired.  After going three rounds with John, he begged off going another around with me.  He didn't do bad, catching John in the side with a hard punch.

I got into the ring with John, and he was just doing enough to stay on his feet.  I ended up hitting him in the same spots where Carlos had.  John was beyond tired.  Alan reminded him during the time he was in with Carlos and then again with me that he has to pour on the effort.  Whoever John's opponent will be on Saturday will not take easy on him.  Taking it easy on others is not on the minds of any of the opponents once they get to the Gloves.

We were only in the gym for about 45 minutes, but that was a workout.  I had been hitting the heavy bags and the double-end bag roughly before I sparred with John.  I was very sweaty afterwards, and everything I had on had to go into the dirty clothes bag. 

Ribs and Sides

Carlos sparred with Alan for a couple of rounds then he sparred three rounds with John.  By the time I got into the ring with him, I thought Carlos was going to be easy pickings.  Nope.  While I did get in some good hooks and body shots, Carlos jammed me up against the ropes and in the corners.  Combinations were finding my head and sides. One punch cracked me right in the nose.

"Are you okay?" Carlos said, looking alarmed.  "I'm okay," I quickly answered, shaking off the sting and moving on.  I threw more punches than I had in a long time, but one round was enough.  "You're not as tired as you said you were," I told Carlos after the bell rang. After I got home, I felt a slight pain in my ribs on my left side. 

Alan had also sparred with Eddie, who gasped as he hung over the ropes between rounds.  "The cardio, man," he breathed. I felt his pain.

John's walking around weight is about 160, but he needs to get down to 155.  It sounded as if he'd been starving himself, but Alan advised him not to do that.  "Eat a little meat, eat salad and watch the dressing you put on it.  Leave the milk and pop alone.  Milk creates phlegm.  Cut out the bread, and watch the bananas -- they put on weight,' he said.

Alan told us a great story about when he met Muhammad Ali.  It was back in 1980.  Ali was coming out of the Drake Hotel with a entourage.  Alan was crossing the street towards them along with a buddy of his.  Ali caught his eye, put up his hands, and made like he wanted to box.  Alan put up his hands, too, and for about ten minutes, the two men playfully threw air punches at each other.  "Ali's handlers kept trying to get him to keep walking, but the two of us kept goofing around.  My friend just stood there, he was so starstruck.  It was a great moment," Alan said. 

As we were leaving for the evening, Alan stopped at the front desk to take care of some business.  "Jilberto thought something was going on because I drive you home all the time," Alan grinned.  I fell out laughing.  "No he didn't," I said.  Jilberto was coming down the hall after securing the back of the field house.  "What did I do?" he said.  Alan explained it to him, and Jilberto smiled. 

What Did Alan Say About Pizza?

Whenever Alan talks about how people should watch their diets, he always says, "You can eat pizza.  Just don't eat the whole damn pizza."  I hear his advice every time I order pizza.  Lately, I have been ignoring the advice.  He asked last night if I wanted to spar.  "I don't feel well.  I think it's the pizza I ate earlier," I said.  Alan shook his head.

The Academy Awards were on this past Sunday, and I always order food in on that night.  Domino's has been running a two-pizza special.  Normally, I don't eat Domino's, preferring the superior JB Alberto's pizza instead.  But the Domino's soft crust is not bad these days, and neither is the price.  I didn't eat all of the pizzas Sunday night, but I practically polished it off on Monday.  I ate the leftovers for lunch, and then again for a snack before I went to the gym.  The slices were talking to me by the time I got down to the gym.  I guess I could have woman'd up and sparred anyway, but I decided to err on the side of caution.

St. Louis and Young Ed have signed up for the Golden Gloves, too, I learned.  They got in their sparring time.  Once again, my back was turned to the ring, so I didn't see what ever hit Young Ed took that brought him to one knee.  

A bracket had been put out by Sam which broke down which weight classes would fight on what nights during the Golden Gloves preliminaries.  I left the copies I had printed out from the Internet at home, but fortunately, John brought a copy in.  An email was also sent by the tournament organizers letting people know about the dates of the tournament and the cost of the tickets.  It also had information about following the tournament on Twitter.  I forwarded a copy of that to Zach, Alex and Pastor.  The first night and the nights of the finals bouts are usually the most crowded. 

The fog that covered Chicago all day had gotten thicker by the time the evening was over.  Alan dropped me off on the corner up the street from my apartment.  As I stood there waiting for the light to change, the fog reminded me of all those old Universal Studios horror films I used to watch on "Creature Features" when I was a kid.  "Creature Features" was one of several horror movie shows that were a part of Chicago's local TV history; it used to air on Saturday nights on WGN.  As I walked down the block, I have expected Lon Chaney Jr. to jump out of the shadows in full Wolfman makeup.

They Reminisce Over You

I had taped the documentary Facing Ali (2009) when Spike TV showed it a couple of weeks ago.  This past Saturday, I finally got around to watching it.  I've seen plenty of news stories and other documentaries about Muhammad Ali, but this was the most heartfelt of the ones I've seen.  Ten boxers who faced Ali in the ring -- Joe Frazier, Henry Cooper, Ron Lyle, Earnie Shavers, George Foreman, Ernie Terrell, Leon Spinks, George Chuvalo, Ken Norton and Larry Holmes -- talk about the experience of fighting the man known as "the greatest of all time".


They also talk about how they feel about him.  Some did not agree with Ali's alliance with the Nation of Islam, and some were not cool with his anti-Vietnam War stance.  Terrell and Frazier, in particular, talk about how they didn't appreciate Ali insulting them before, during, and after their fights.  As time has gone by, a lot of the old grudges have faded, however.  Some of the boxers -- especially Chuvalo and Norton -- had some hard times after their fighting days were over.  But the boxers have ongoing respect and affection for Ali.  Frazier, in reference to Ali's current state of health, tears up when he expresses a wish that Ali "gets to live like we all live. . .he's earned it." 

This is a great documentary, that tells another side of Ali's story, from the perspective of his opponents.  

A Hit Below

Lately, it seems that I have missed seeing all of the rough hits that take place during sparring.  Carlos and John were in the ring last night.  I turned around to see John down on one knee.  At first, I thought he had been hit in the gut.  He finished the round, but staggered out of the ring, his face contorted in pain.  "Are you okay?" I asked.  He told me that Carlos hit him in the one spot where no man likes to be hit.

When I was in high school, I had a gym teacher who taught us a fast-paced game.  It was a cross between basketball and football, and we played with a soft, Nerf-like ball.  I was trying to get someone to pass the ball to me.  I swung one of my hands back and caught my friend Keith right in that spot.  "You trying to prevent me from having children?" he said, as he doubled over and backed away.  There is a reason why it is often suggested to guys to wear protective cups.

A new guy in the class, Victor, told me that he used to be a regular in the kids' boxing program when he was five years old.  "That's when Barry used to have hair," he said, and we both laughed.  Barry keeps his head shaved bald these days.  Victor is getting back into the game; he's now 18 years old.

Matt and Cynthia signed up for the Spring session, which doesn't begin for another two weeks.  They both are eager to start.  Cynthia told me that she plans to watch some of the fights at the Golden Gloves.

Carlos and I did interval training on the heavy bag.  He was laid out on the floor afterwards, while I felt energized.  It must have been that energy drink I had two hours before I got to the gym.  It really did the trick.

Jamil didn't sign up for the Gloves, so it looks as if Carlos and John are going to be the only two representatives from Loyola's adult boxing program.  I miss the days when we had four to five guys competing for titles at the Gloves.

I reminded Pastor Roger about considering coming out to the Gloves for his and Virginia's date night.  Too bad I'm not boxing in the tournament, but I might get to work the corners.  "Opening night is one of the best nights to be there because all of the boxers have to show up to be weighed in.  Plus, celebrities come in," I told Pastor.  Well, celebrities pop up at the Gloves the whole time the tournament is running.  Some are asked to hand out trophies, while others come in to take in the action with the rest of the crowd.  The celebrities are usually current professional boxers, former professional boxers, and former amateur champs, some of whom have gone on to be prominent in other fields.  I wonder if the tournament organizers would ever considering asking former Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich to hand out a trophy?  He did train as an amateur boxer and participated in the Gloves years ago.  It's true.

Boxing As Self Defense

About three years ago, a group of us from the gym were at a show fight that was held at a suburban country club.  Someone was talking about using boxing a self-defense method.  Another coach at the event said, "Oh, no, you don't want to rely on boxing for street fighting.  You'd rather use mixed martial arts for that."

Both mixed martial arts (MMA) and boxing have their advantages and disadvantages when it comes to defending against an opponent on the street.  One main disadvantage both fighting arts share is this:  if an opponent has a weapon, and you're not able to disarm them, the fight can become one-sided very quickly.  No amount of hand movements, fancy footwork or kicks are much of a match against bullets or blades. 

That is not to say that boxing is not a good thing to know.  Sometimes, having knowledge that a potential victim will hit back and knows how to make it hurt may cause a perpetrator to back down.  But one has to be careful.  Deciding to go the bullying route is not cool.  I remember my mother telling my younger siblings and I to fight back if other kids hit us.  "Hit them hard enough so that they won't do it again," she'd say.  But she'd add, "I'd better not hear about you bullying someone or I'll kick your ass."  In other words, don't start none just to prove how tough one is. 

There's a boxer I met years ago who bragged about beating down a guy who crossed his path.  Supposedly, he was sitting on a stoop when a guy allegedly made a pass at him.  Okay. . .I have heard many stories from guys who were propositioned by other guys.  It still doesn't justify gay-bashing.  The boxer could have politely said, "Naw, man, I don't swing that way," and went on about his business.  But nooo, like the late John Belushi used to say.  The boxer jumps on the guy and beats him to a pulp.  I remember the guy laughing as he was telling the story.  Not a good look.

That story points out another problem with using boxing, or any other fighting art, as self-defense.  The law has no problem with anyone fighting off a would-be attacker and escaping from them.  If I continue grinding someone who tried to snatch my purse into the sidewalk just to prove a point, I could find myself being slapped with assault charges.  They tried to hurt me, but I could get dunned for it, especially once it is learned that I know how to box.  Unfair, but very true.  A judge will ask, "Once you got them off of you, why did you go on to knock out their teeth and black their eyes?" 

In the case of the gay-bashing boxer, he wouldn't have been able to tell the cops anything like, "I felt my safety was in jeopardy!"  All the other guy did was say something to him that he didn't like.  He was lucky that no witnesses or cops were nearby, or that would have been a battery charge.  The judge would have went extra hard once he found out the guy knew how to box.

There was a movie called Undefeated starring Wesley Snipes. Snipes was a boxer doing a long stretch because he beat a guy to death who was playing around with his girl.  His sentence was made particularly harsh because the judge ruled that Snipes' character's hands were lethal weapons.  The movie was fictional, but the situation Snipes' character was not unusual.  Anyone who's in a fighting art should always pick their battles outside of the ring or the octagon very carefully.

Ladies' Night

I was a little late to the gym.  Joe was back again, and he not only had Chloe with him but he brought along Natalie.  As soon as I came in the door, Alan informed me, "You can work with Natalie tonight."  Natalie sings opera, works in advertising, and is going back to school for design.  She's also a Golden Gloves winner from last year.  She fought as a senior novice the last time.  This time, she's fighting in the open category.  Natalie has fast hands, and she never stopped moving.  I took a few shots to my nose, my mouth, and my left eye. 

Matt and Cynthia were in the gym checking things out.  They plan to sign up for the Spring session.  Matt had some martial arts experience, but Cynthia had no fight experience at all.  They asked a lot of questions about the sport. "Do you spar a lot?" they asked.  "Yes, and this is the first time in awhile that I was the first to spar for the evening," I answered. 

I got back in the ring for one round with Chloe.  Like I've said before, Joe teaches his boxers well.  She slipped a right that I threw then snaked around to give me a hook.  "I've really got to work on my wind.   You find out how important it is once you're in for a few rounds," she told me earlier.  "You know it.  I need to work on that myself," I agreed.

Once again, Alan said to me, "Don't get too friendly because you may have to fight them."  "You can't be friendly with the people you fight?" I grinned.  I told him about when Meg and I saw each other in the washroom before our fight at Brooks Park back in December.  Meg was uncomfortable running into me, and I was trying to figure out what was the big deal.  "There's a difference sparring with your teammates in the gym and fighting someone you don't know.  I would have a hard time fighting a friend," Alan said.  I don't know about that.  Inside the ring, it's about business, but I don't have an objection to talking to my opponent afterwards or before. 

John told me he lost eight or nine pounds in one week.  "What have you been doing?" I asked.  "I've just been eating meat, vegetables, fruit and no carbs," he said.  I envy how fast guys can lose weight once they focus on it.  They can drop the pounds without a lot of major effort, too.  Women?  We change our diet, up the exercise, and two months later, the dial on the scale still hasn't moved much. 

Boxing In The Sanctuary

Melanie, a woman who goes to my church, brought up the idea to me about running a boxing program for kids at church not long ago.  She said it probably wouldn't be too difficult to find used equipment for the kids to use.  But as Pastor Roger pointed out, the legal and insurance issues would be a challenge.  I'm aware that some churches have had successful boxing programs (as well as programs focusing on other sports).  While being in a sport is beneficial for most kids, a lot of things have to be considered.

There was a woman named Carla who used to attend the gym.  She's now married with a little one of her own.  I remember her saying that she would never let a child of hers participate in boxing.  "I'd think, 'I can't let my baby get hurt!'", she told me.  What the parents of the children would feel about such a program at church would definately be another consideration.  Some may object to what they see as the church promoting violence.  This also is one reason why Barry, the kids' coach, requires that the youths who are interested in boxing bring their parents to the gym.  He wants to make sure that the parents are comfortable with their children particpating in boxing.

The sport has to fit the kid, too.  In the movie, Girlfirght, the main character discovers that her brother does not want to take lessons at the neighborhood boxing gym.  He would rather develop his artistic skills, but their dad forces him to box.  It's a male ego/chauvinist thing where the dad is concerned.  Either a child likes the sport, or they don't.  They should not be pushed into one.  Also, if it is clear they don't have the talent for it, then they should try something else.  I would also be concerned about some kids at church feeling left out  if they could not participate.

As a coach, I'd also have to be mindful of kids utilizing their newfound boxing skills to bully others.  I've seen and been around adult boxers who take pleasure in bullying people in and out of the ring.  It's not pretty, and the adults should know better.  There are some good kids that attend Sunday services and/or the youth group at my church.  However, there are a few that would try the patience of Job.  Please don't tell me about "we should suffer the little children".  In my opinion, most adults use the "kids will be kids" line -- too many times -- to excuse away poor and inappropriate behavior out of those who are under eighteen years of age.  I have little patience for that type of stuff, and as old as I am, I'm not going to develop any. . . sorry, Charlie.  If I saw that a kid might ignore the concepts of teamwork, cooperation and sportsmanship, I'd probably weed them out of the program. 

Sign Up Sunday

Carlos came to pick me up yesterday morning so we could go to the Golden Gloves Tournament sign-up at Eckhert Park.  His girlfriend, Cynthia, along with their youngest son, Jacob, were in the car. Jacob is a very cute nine-month-old.  Where his older brother Justin (who was at church with his grandmother) looks just like Cynthia, Jacob looks just like Carlos.  Carlos called before he came by.  "Do I have to shave off my beard?" he asked.  "Not until right before the fights," I answered.  "Oops, I've already started to cut it off," he said.  I don't think I had ever seen Carlos clean-shaven until yesterday.  He's very baby-faced. 

Surprisingly, the room wasn't packed when we arrived.  I didn't recognize many except for Rita, Ted, Tracy (the publicist for the event), and the photographer who always takes stunning photos during the tournament.  It didn't take long for me to renew my coach's license, but Carlos had a bit of paperwork to fill out.  Plus, he had to pay for his first boxing license. 

One of the coaches was grumbling about the price of the license, which has gone up.  "This is a rip-off!  What am I paying for?" he said.  It was pointed out to him that the boxer's licenses and the boxing club licenses had gone up, too.  The guy kept complaining, and the people doing the registering politely gave him a hint: either pay it, or don't pay it.

Alan and John had been there earlier and had taken care of their business.  Carlos mentioned that he had spoken to Alan earlier that morning, and it was unclear whether or not Jamil had made it to registration.  I believe today is the last opportunity to sign-up; however, the registration will be held out in the suburbs. 

Hitting Hard But Not Up

Carlos came in last night, but he was still battling a cold.  Adam had a cold, too.  It affected how the two sparred; they didn't do it for too long.

Plans were made for some of us to meet at Eckhert Park on Sunday to sign up for the Chicago Golden Gloves.  Carlos is in, as is John, and Jamil is planning to go.  I have to renew my coach's license; Alan is grandfathered in to the system.  Still no sign of Kevin, and it doesn't look like Ralphie is going to compete. JJ is being encouraged by the coaches he's working with now to sit out the Gloves and compete in other tournaments.

I told Pastor Roger I would miss church to go to the tournament registration.  "Playing hooky, huh?" he commented.  On Wednesday, during the regular mid-week lunch, I told people about being knocked down by John on Monday.  Paulette shook her head.   "Why would they have registration for the tournament on a Sunday?" she asked.  I guess weekends (plus having multiple places to sign up) are the best way to go to make sure everybody gets a chance to sign up.  It's not just people in the Chicago area.  Boxers from Indiana, Iowa, Michigan and Wisconsin show up for the tournament, too. 

I've noticed that every time JJ is in the gym, Alan has to get into the ring with him.  Whenever Nate Sr, is in the gym, he always wants to mix it up with JJ, too.  Both men appreciate JJ's style of boxing.  Alan and JJ went for a few rounds.

Alan and I sparred for two rounds.  There were too many times when I missed opportunities to get him with hooks.  "You hit hard," he said afterwards, "but you don't always go for the head. . .why?"  "I still think that I can't reach up easily because everyone is taller than I," I answered.  I noticed that I've gone back to pawing at incoming lefts and rights again, too.  "You have a lot of bad habits that we have to work on," Alan said.  "I know. . .I feel like I throw the same punches all the time without much variation," I agreed.

Knocked Down and Bruised

"You're always the last the go in," Alan smiled.  Sparring takes place each time the gym is open for the adults.  I seldom beg off of sparring, but usually, I'm one of the last, if not the last person to do so.  Last night, I went one round a piece with John and Tony. 

Although I've become a little better protecting my head and my face, there's still room for improvement.  One of John's punches caused my neck to turn in a funny way.  "I'd better be cool or else I will be visiting a chiropractor," I thought.  Alan was on the side, saying, "Use the hook!".  Not easy to do, since John is at least six feet in height. John thought the coach was telling him that.  A right hook got me, and I fell to the canvas.  I wasn't knocked out, just stunned and caught off guard.  John helped me up.  "I'm sorry!  I didn't mean that!" he said.  "Don't worry about it.  I had my hands down," I said.  I was laughing about how I fell down. 

I knew Tony was hesitant about hitting me when he and I were in the ring.  "You can really hit her," Alan told him, and Tony's punches did become a little harder.  Tony bounced around the ring a lot, and I had to stop myself from constantly chasing him.  It is better to let an opponent come to you, instead of getting tired out running to them.  Later on after I got home, I noticed a bruise on my left arm.  I don't bruise up easily, and I don't get bruised often, so it was a surprise to me.  It hurts a little today, but it's okay. 

Pastor Roger has some vintage Sports Illustrated issues he's trying to sell for awhile.  He gave me the ones with various boxers on the front covers.  "Maybe the guys at the gym would like to buy them," he told me.  There was a little interest until they heard, "Twenty dollars a magazine."  Then Alan told me about a friend of his who has a huge boxing memorabilia collection.  He left a voice mail for his friend last night, asking him to call back if he's interested. 

Young Ed sparred with Eddie.  I was on the double end bag with my back to the ring when I heard, "Damn!  Ooh whee!"  I turned around to see Eddie rubbing his eye.  Young Ed asked, "You alright, man?"  "Yeah," Eddie said, "but damn!"  Apparently, Young Ed had caught him with a good right.  Eddie came out of the ring and sat down for awhile.

Michael, who's a year younger than I, asked me about Jeremy, who's been missing for over a week.  Maybe Jeremy's ill; a lot of bad colds have been going around.  Also, Carlos, Kevin, and Ralphie were not in the gym.  Alan said that Ralphie had gotten injured the last time he sparred, and his back was bothering him.  That might have a bearing on whether or not Ralphie will sign up for the Golden Gloves later this week.  JJ was in the gym, and I thought I heard him say he wasn't going to enter the tournament this year, but I'm not sure.

Best Two Rounds

Carlos came in, suffering from a cold.  "Sometimes I can breathe out of one nostril, then sometimes, the other nostril is clear," he said.  Alan suggested that Carlos work it off by hitting the bags after he sparred with a few guys, including St. Louis.  Acknowledging that the cold was slowing him down, Alan later told me, "Carlos wasn't himself tonight." 

Carlos still hasn't decided whether he's going to sign up for the Golden Gloves.  "I think I'm too heavy," he said.  "You'll be fine.  A lot of heavyweights run out of gas after the first round," St. Louis told him.  "You just have to keep hitting and pace yourself," Alan said.

I sparred with Jamil for two rounds, and I felt amazingly confident.  I was lighter on my feet, and I took little breaks to back up and get air.  Jamil told me that I got him with a left hook.  "I saw it coming, but I didn't get my hand up fast enough to block it," he smiled.  That was a surprise to me, because I didn't think any of the hooks I threw connected.  I was tired afterwards, but not as winded and worn down as I usually am.  I immediately got on the heavy bags.

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.

Boxing Withdrawal

I did not go to the gym last night, and it was the first time I had missed a session in a long time.  I'm thinking about going back to school, so I went to an open house held by Loyola University's School of Continuing and Professional Studies.  It was held at their Water Tower campus.  I talked with the head of the Paralegal Studies program, as well as alumni.  The information I received was very beneficial.  Since no one seems to be interested in hiring support staff people these days, especially ones who are my age or older, I've been thinking it's high time for a change.  It was well worth my time to go to the open house. I'm going to check out some other schools, too. 

However, I suffered boxing withdrawal, as I told Virginia today when we had lunch together.  I hate to miss boxing for any reason, including illness.  But sometimes, schedules overlap, and one engagement has to have priority over another one.  When I do return to class, which might be as soon as this spring, my class schedule may conflict with going to the gym at times.  I hope not, but I'll have to bite the bullet if it does. 

News Cycle

The past few days have presented me with good news-bad news-good news scenarios.  I learned that I am going through menopause, which is news I've been waiting on for a few decades now.  Luckily, the nurse/midwife that I talked to at the health clinic had good suggestions on how to deal with the symptons that don't involve medications. 

The bad news was that another one of my cousins passed away.  My cousin Darlene passed a few weeks before Thanksgiving last year.  Now my oldest first cousin, Denise, has passed away.  I took off work yesterday to attend her funeral. 

The second piece of good news was when I learned that a trifling ex-boyfriend had died.  "The boyfriend?" Pastor Roger said, when I told him the news.  I've told the pastor about the eight years of my life I wasted on the guy.  The ex bit the dust several years before due to heart problems.  That news made my whole week. I was smirking and smiling about it for hours. It warms my heart to know that he's six feet under ground -- with the scar I put on his face with a right cross twenty years ago.  It's a long story, but I will say that my right hand cut him open but good, and this was long before I properly learned how to box. 

St. Louis, Carlos, Ralphie, Jeremy and Kevin were missing last night.  Michael returned, looking well rested after a vacation he took.  I sparred with Jamil for two rounds and took extra rounds on the heavy bags.

The speed bag was gone again.  Last week, there was a newer one up, but it was a very odd shape.  I was on it for a couple of rounds until I got tired of trying to figure out a good rhythm.  Hopefully, a better speed bag will appear soon. 

Punch To The Music

I'm the one who usually turns on the radio in the gym.  Most of the time, it is tuned to WGCI-FM, a local urban contemporary station.  I assume that's one of the favorite stations of the kids who use the gym on Tuesdays an Thursdays.  WGCI caters to the under 30 crowd who like Kanye West, Jay-Z, Beyonce, Ciara, and the like.

Seldom do I change the dial.  First of all, it's the community radio, so all have an opportunity to switch the station (and play CDs or cassettes, if they want).  The coach has the option of not allowing the radio on at all, so the boxers can hear his instructions while they are sparring.  Also, many of the younger guys who come into the gym on Mondays and Wednesdays would rather hear the current hip-hop/rap that is in heavy rotation on WGCI.  I tend to tune it out while I'm working out.  I don't listen to that station elsewhere because I'm not crazy about most of the stuff on their play list. 

When I walk to the gym, I usually play my drug-store MP3 player on the way there.  There are over 200 songs on it at the moment.  The music mix consists of various genres.  Right now it's top heavy with a lot of slow songs.  I skip those during my journey to the gym, and play the dance, fast soul music, and rap songs to get in the mood for my workout.  I'm always playing, "Mama Said Knock You Out" by LL Cool J, "Tic Toc" by the Lords of the Underground, and "Move Bitch" by Ludacris.  I'll throw in Otis Redding's version of "Satisfaction", "What You See Is What You Get", by the Dramatics, and "You Can Have Watergate" by James Brown and the JB's.  "I Ain't Leaving Without You" by Jaheim, is probably the newest song among the 200 on the MP3. 

There's a company that insists that slower and quieter music is better for working out.  They produce CDs with such music.  I tried that one day when I was alone in the gym for awhile.  I think I tuned the radio to a classical station.  Didn't do it for me.  I had to hear something harder, faster and with a beat. 

Sparring And A Crash

I sparred one round with Ralphie on Wednesday.  It was his birthday.  I heard him say he's 31 years old, but he looks a lot younger than that. 

Jeremy begged off of sparring.  "I didn't let my wife see my shirt," he told me, referring to the blood he got on it from Monday night. 

Adam told me, "I would spar with you, but I'm meeting a girl later, and I want to look good."  We both laughed.  Jeremy was leaning up against the lockers.  "Is it hot in here, or is it me?" I asked them.  Ever since I've been noticing what seems to be hot flashes, I've been asking that question often of others.  "No, it's hot in here," Jeremy confirmed.  There were a good number of guys in the gym, and no air was circulating. 

Ed came in.  "Hillari, you've been coming here a long time.  I remember!"  Ed began boxing several years ago in Barry's class.  "Since September of 2002," I smiled.  Sometimes it doesn't seem that it has been that long. 

Alan was pulling out of a parking space at the end of the evening when he backed into a car that was double parked. He cursed as he jumped out of the car to check the damage.  Neither Alan, myself, nor the other driver was hurt.  Alan and the other driver exchanged information.  Alan had broken a mirror on the other guy's car.  "I think I'll just go ahead and pay for it.  The guy told me he's a lawyer.  I don't want to aggravate him," he said to me. 

What I Get Out of Punching

Many, many posts ago, I went into why I took up the sport of boxing.  I've not said what I get out of boxing.

1)  Assertiveness -- Years ago, I put up with a lot of crap all the time.  I would "grin and bear" much while stuffing down the anger and resentment.  Beginning in my mid-twenties, I got tired and began to stand up to indignities.  Boxing further pushed me into learning to be more assertive.  Just today, I got on a person who always acts rude to me when they call the church. Boxing has helped me squash a lot of disrespect directed my way.

2)  Confidence -- I was very shy as a child and teenager, which often lead to me being picked on as well as being overlooked and dismissed.  Boxing can't take the full credit for gained confidence -- singing, acting and speaking in public over the years has also helped -- but it has enhanced it.

3)  Exercise and the return of athleticism -- I was the kid who loved gym class while I was in grade and high school.  Outside of school, I was always roller skating, skateboarding. and riding bikes.  As an adult,  I became less of a fan of exercise, made excuses not to move around, and the pounds went up.  I tried aerobics, but it left me cold.  I needed something a little more intense that would hold my interest.  I found it in boxing.

4)  Camaraderie --  No matter where I've gone, whether it be a tournament, a show fight, a Park District show, or a certification class, there has been an instant connection with other boxers.  Boxers share common experiences of tough training, taking hard knocks, groaning over losses, and celebrating over wins.  A couple of summers ago, I was riding my bike in Evanston when a guy pulled up next to me in his car.  "You box?" he said, noticing the Everlast sack that was on my back.  He had boxed when he was younger.  We shared a few pleasant moments talking about the sport.  Some of the best times I've had in recent years have involved shared experiences with others in the sport.  Being excited over watching a fight on pay-per-view at someone's home, cheering on fellow boxers at live matches, laughing over something funny in the gym, meeting former and current professional boxers and listening to their stories. . . .it goes on and on.

5) Encouraging females in the sports -- The guys have a clear path in the amateurs and the professional ranks as they move their way through the sport.  Women and girls still struggle to be recognized, respected, and being taken seriously in boxing.   Whenever a new female comes to the gym, I do my best to make them feel comfortable and encourage them to stay.  I congratulate the females I see boxing at various matches, and tell them to go as far as they can.  My hope is to see more females become interested in boxing.

6) The "you do what?" factor -- I tell someone I box.  The reactions range from being impressed to being horrified.  I have people who encourage me to keep my dukes up, as well as those who continually attempt to talk me out of fighting.  I never get tired of the surprised looks. 

Cleaning The Crimson

Jeremy sparred for the first time with Jamil last night.  I watched them during their second round.  Jamil caught Jeremy a few times in the nose.  That was the first time I ever saw Jamil bloody someone up.  Jeremy was bleeding a lot, but he stayed in the ring. 

Alan said that Barry was concerned about blood he had seen previously on the canvas.  "We've just got a lot of bleeders," Alan told me.  Jeremy's shirt was stained with crimson, and some of it did make it onto the canvas.  Near the end of the evening, I got some paper towels from the women's washroom and grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol off of the coach's desk.  "What are you doing?" Alan asked, as I wiped up the canvas surface.  "I figured I'd clean up the blood from the canvas.  There's a few spots," I answered.  "How much of my blood is on there?" Jeremy joked.  "Eh, don't worry about it, Hillari," Alan said.  I saw a broom in an odd spot and picked it up.  "Now what are you doing?" Alan said.  "I'm just moving the broom over to the garbage can," I said.  He thought I was going to start sweeping, which would not have been a bad idea, judging by the condition of the floor.  "There are maintenance guys for that.  We'll coach, and we'll let them clean," Alan grinned.  Jeremy had also gotten blood on the sparring gloves he had worn.  I rinsed those off in the washroom.

Some readers might be saying to themselves at this point,  "No way!  How can she do that?"  I've gotten used to it, and I'm not very squeamish.   Besides, I'm very careful when I'm in contact with blood in the gym.  Unfortunately, one has to be very careful when in contact with any body fluids these days.  The sparring gloves are used by everyone.  There have been many times, when I've put on a pair, only to discover that someone else has used them recently, and the gloves are sweaty.  I noticed a cut on my left thumb right before I got into the ring with John last night.  Before I put on a pair of gloves, I pulled out a bandaid from my gear bag and covered my thumb with it. 

I wore makeup and nail polish the day before, as I attended church and attended the church's annual business meeting afterwards.  Of course I didn't wear makeup to the gym, but I hadn't removed the nail polish.  I like the contrast of the polish on my fingernails peering out from my handwraps.  It's funny to me. 

While at work yesterday morning, Alan called to ask if I could print out the Chicago Golden Gloves registration and bout schedule and bring it to the gym.  I was in Pastor Roger's office at the time; we were talking to Pam, who expressed an interest in doing volunteer work at church.  Pastor looked at me, trying to figure out if the call was for him when I answered it.  After a few moments, he told Pam, "That sounds like she's talking about boxing stuff."  Alan chuckled when I told him about it later that evening.  "Sounds like you're making a boxing fan out of the pastor," he said.  "No, he always tells me that he doesn't understand much about the sport," I smiled. 

Alan told John that the cut off age for registering at the Golden Gloves used to be thirty-three.  Now it's 35 because the Chicago version never seems to support a Masters' division.  John is 34 years old.  "Man, that would be something if after getting all hyped up for the tournament, I couldn't get in due to age!" John exclaimed. 

 

Making The Team

It was pretty much a full house in the gym Wednesday evening.  St. Louis joined in the mix of the guys who sparred.  I was in the back on the uppercut bag, while he was in the ring with Ralphie.  I turned around after the bell rang to end the round, and I saw Ralphie down on one knee. 

Sometime later before Ralphie and I sparred, he said that St. Louis had got him with a wicked body shot.  "I was open, and he hit me.  I felt a sharp pain," he explained.  St. Louis is a little taller than Ralphie, and is built in a lean way.  "Be gentle with me because I'm fragile," Ralphie smiled at me.  I had to laugh.  I was amazed at the energy I had while sparring with him.  I wish I had that type of energy more often. 

Oksana and I worked the punch mitts.  She gave me some great advice about holding my hands in closer to protect myself.  Oksana also pointed out that sometimes, I don't distribute my weight very well over my feet.  I have had problems with balance lately.  I have to make sure that my feet are shoulder width apart at all times in the ring. 

There was a good article in the Red Eye newspaper about women being allowed to box in the 2012 Olympics.  Tiffany and Samantha, were profiled in the article.  They both are training for a spot on the women's Olympic boxing team.  I had seen Tiffany win a Golden Gloves championship.  She's good; she fights like a guy.  Didn't realize she's 4 foot 11; that's shorter than I, and I'm really short.  I hope the both of them make it onto the team.

Downed By High Blood

I went to a low-income/free clinic on Monday to find out if I'm entering menopause.  Currently, I have no health insurance, and I can't afford to see my regular doctor for checkups and prescriptions.  It was discovered that my blood pressure was sky high.  "You need to see the internist," the helpful nurse told me.  Silently, I grumbled at my late dad.  I inherited both high blood pressure and diabetes from him.  The doctor I saw wrote prescriptions for high blood pressure and diabetes pills. He told me of some pharmacies where I could get prescription meds at low prices.

I called Pastor Roger before I went to the gym to ask if it was okay for me to take off tomorrow morning to fill the prescription.  I have to go up to Costco to get a deal.  He agreed, but later, I realized that I have another appointment on Tuesday at the closest Workforce (Unemployment) office.  "Damn.  If it's not one thing, it's another," I thought as I walked to the gym.  It's busy this week because I have to get the committee reports together for the church's annual business meeting this upcoming Sunday.  I don't want to take much time away from getting that done.  I'll just have to get the prescription filled later on Tuesday or later in the week.

I begged off sparring, even though, I had a pick of guys to spar with (Carlos, Jamil, Vic, Johnny).  I told Alan of my medical woes, and he told me, "My neck has been bothering me for days.  I keep waiting for the kink to work itself out, but it hasn't yet."  He said he wasn't taking anything for it.  "You should see somebody.  It might be a pulled muscle," I suggested.

I didn't do much of a workout.  Since my high blood pressure was out of control, I figured I'd better take it easy.  Most of my time was spent recording the sparring between Carlos, Jamil, Vic, Johnny, Alan, Kevin, and a new guy named St. Louis, on my digital camera.  St. Louis came in with a woman, whose name I didn't catch.  Alan thought she might be a good sparring partner for both Oksana and myself.  I attempted to upload the sparring to YouTube, but I kept getting error messages.  I'll have to figure out what the problem is.

Carlos admitted he's at 195 pounds.  "That number is supposed to be going down, not up," Alan said.  "It seems I just can't stop eating.  I do most of the cooking at home.  I'm tasting while I'm cooking, then turning around and eating after I've finished cooking," Carlos explained.  I'm at 175 pounds, having gained back ten pounds over the holidays, so I could sympathize with Carlos.  It's frustrating, because I seemed to be on a roll, and now I'm back to square one again.  The visit to the doctor just pointed out how far gone things have become.

"High blood pressure is not the only problem.  There's another issue looming as well," I told Alan as he dropped me off near my apartment.  "What's that?" he asked.  "I suspect I'm entering menopause," I told him, without going into the details of the symptoms I've noticed.  He told me about his wife's experiences with it, then smiled and said, "We all have our crosses to bear."  

Digital Boxing Tips

The proper name for the donut is punch shield.  Finally got that right.

Wednesday was Edgar's first time in the ring sparring.  He was in with Carlos, who went several rounds as usual with the guys in the gym.  When it was my turn to spar, I ended up against Ralphie, who's quick.  I whaled on him a few times when I caught him up against the ropes and in the corners.  However, I doubt that I did much damage.

I was playing around with my little drug store special digital camera, and figured out how to upload videos to YouTube.  I figured I'd start with posting some boxing tips for women:





The second video I attempted to upload didn't take, so I will have to figure out what went wrong.  If I had a better camera, maybe it would make a difference, but I don't know. 

Alan thinks that there is a pretty good roster of guys available -- Carlos, Jamil, Ed, Ralphie -- for the Chicago Golden Gloves.  It's a matter of whether they want to compete in that tournament and if they will have the time to do so. 

I noticed that Jilberto was standing just outside of the door to the gym talking to a blond woman.  Later, he told Alan and I that she seemed interested at first, but then she saw Carlos and Ralphie sparring.  "Oh, no, I don't want to do that!" she exclaimed. 

I found my second old cell phone, so I will eventually make my way to the Chicago Boxing Club to donate that for the fund of the boxer who passed away in Philly not too long ago.  Virginia and I were thinking about hanging out this Saturday depending on our schedules.  Maybe we can take a trip to drop off the phone, and I can show her the inside of that gym, then we could go to lunch. 

Little Man Returns

Carlos came in, followed by Justin.  "What did you get for Christmas?" I asked. The five-year old showed me a hand-held video game.  His dad had brought him some new games to play on it.  "Do you read 'Dick and Jane' in school?" I asked Justin.  He shook his head, indicating that he had never heard of the series.  I guess a lot of things don't happen in Kindergarten like they did when I was there.  Justin had the day off from school because of the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday.

Neither Jenay or Oksana came in; maybe they thought the gym was closed due to the holiday.  I had to call myself to check if the place would be open.  Cynthia answered the phone and confirmed that the field house would be hope during its regular hours.

Long and tall Kevin returned to the gym.  He told me that he wanted to get some more training before he came back to Loyola Park.  Alan was talking to him, Carlos, Jeremy and Jamil about the Golden Gloves.  Carlos and Jamil would like to compete there, but they're still not sure.  Alan told Carlos, "There are other guys who'll be there who are heavyweights.  You have the stamina, and you won't get knocked out.  You could handle them."  He reminded Carlos that he needs to get his weight down.  I thought to myself, "I need to get mine down, too, and I'm not off to a good start."  I've been ordering too many chopped steak deluxe meals from JB Alberto's lately.

I sparred with Alan, giving him a good shot to the stomach starting out.   "I was thinking that my right hand came out too hard at one point.  Didn't you hear me say I was sorry?" he asked after we completed our rounds.  "No, but you did get me in the eye," I grinned.  My left eye always seems to be a magnet for other people's punches during sparring. 

While he drove me home, I asked Alan if he goes to temple in the city or in the suburbs.  He explained that he attends service at a home near his house.  I thought to myself that I had heard of churches that met in people's homes, but never a synagogue.  But then, that is not out of the ordinary.  I seem to remember stories about people meeting in small groups in the Bible.  "They serve lunch afterwards, but I don't usually stay because I go to work.  I know I'm not supposed to work on the Sabbath," he grinned, "but I haven't gotten to that point yet."  "We all have to work out our own salvation," I said. 

Volunteering To Fight

You may be wondering, "This chick has mentioned several times that she's a volunteer in the gym.  What does she do exactly?"  Well, I'll tell ya.

I'm usually in the gym before the coach.  Alan, like Steve before him, usually is late to the gym.  Unless the coach says otherwise, the field house staff can open the gym door for me.  The same rule is in effect if the coach is not going to be in that evening, and they have alerted the field house staff ahead of time.  That way, people can come in and work out, and the gym will be monitored by someone.  If the coach is not in that night, I make sure I'm the last one leaving the gym.  I alert the field house staff that everyone is gone so they can lock the door.

Once I change into my workout clothes, I fill up the water bottles.  The water is important to have available for boxers during sparring sessions.  The water is also there for those who are working out, but don't have their own water bottles with them.  I usually fill up my water bottle too, killing two birds with one stone.

If the timer is not already on, I set it for three minute rounds with a one minute rest.  Then I do a little cleaning up.  Nothing major like sweeping and mopping, but if I see stuff on the floor, or out of place, I'll pick it up.  I do pick up again at the end of the evening.  There's always gloves that have fallen off the table, towels laying near the ring, or stray mouthpieces around. 

If Alan steps out of the gym for any reason, I'll stay back to keep an eye on things.  When he is busy with the boxers who are sparring, I'm the second set of eyes watching everything else that is happening.  If people come into the gym inquiring about the program, I answer their questions.  I keep kids and teens from running through the gym. 

If someone needs help with technique, I show them with input from Alan.  Sometimes, I will help monitor the sparring, especially if Alan puts on the gloves to mix it up with one of the guys.  Sparring is not allowed when Alan is not in, and I'm supposed to keep people from doing that when the coach is out. 

When we're out at boxing shows, I may do any number of things: assist in the corner with the coach, keep an eye on everyone's personal stuff, record videos and/or take photos of the matches, assist with warming up the boxers before the matches, and whatever else is needed. 

I keep up with information about the dates when the gym session starts, and the times of the Golden Gloves Tournament.  Steve would often forget names of people in the gym, and Alan does, too, so I remember for the coach.

Grabbed By The Neck

I heard footsteps going towards the Pastor's office on Tuesday, but I hadn't heard the doorbell.  I was the only one in the church building at the time, so I had to investigate.  Pastor Roger was in his office; he just came through another entrance.  "You were going to get beat down.  I didn't know who that was walking up here," I half-joked.  I came into church this morning to do some extra work on the annual business reports.  Pastor came in and called out from down the hall, "Hillari?"  "Yeah?" I called back.   "It's me.  Don't beat me up," he responded. 

Michael, Jeremy and I were the first ones in the gym this past Wednesday.  "My arms are still hurting.  I overdid it while I was shadowboxing on Wednesday," he groaned.  He said his arms felt heavy from having to hold them up.  It's a common complaint of those who are new to the sport.  "They'll feel like that at first, but after awhile, you'll get used to it," I assured him. 

Later in the evening, Janay showed me her knuckles and said they felt raw.  "Should I not be hitting with them?" she said.  She had been trying out the double end bag.  Her hands were wrapped up.  "No, you're supposed to use your knuckles.  They'll be like that for awhile, then you won't feel it," I said.  "They'll get calluses," she joked.

Carlos came in, explaining he'd been out due to a hand injury.  "I had a knife in my hand, and I wasn't holding it right while I was sharpening it.  The next thing I knew, I had sliced my hand open.  Had to go to the emergency room and get stitches."  He showed me his left hand, and the cut was scabbing over, a sign that it was healing.  "How's Justin?" I asked.  "I've been having him do exercises at home.  He gets tired afterwards and wants to go to sleep.  He doesn't even want to come here with me to the gym anymore," Carlos said.  "He probably thinks you're going to make him work out here, too," I grinned.

Ed came in, and he sparred with Carlos, Jamil and Ralphie.  Ed is quick.  While he was in the ring with Jamil, I observed how he carefully watched Jamil for openings, then took advantage of them.    The newer guys in the ring watched their sparring with interest.  I overheard Ed saying that he was planning to compete in the Golden Gloves again. 

Carlos ended up with a bloody nose again, but I don't think Ed was the one who gave it to him.  Carlos had sparred with Ralphie, too, so that's when it may have happened.  "Is your nose okay?" I asked.  "Eh, I have a few bloody boogers, but I can breath," Carlos replied with a grin. 

I begged off sparring, but maybe I shouldn't have.  I didn't spar last week.  Oksana didn't come in Wednesday, and I was thinking that maybe we could have sparred.  I told Alan I have to work my way up to it again, and he smiled at that.  In reality, I wimped out.  The guys who sparred that night seemed to have a lot of energy, and I had a feeling that I just might have taken some bad hits if I had gotten into the ring with them.  Boxing is a sport where people get hurt, and yes, that was a silly thought for me to have.  But sometimes, it is better to listen to your instincts.

Alan and I worked on the punch donut.  He had backed into one of the corners as I pounded away.  Suddenly, he reached out his hand, took me by the back of my neck, and turned me around quickly.  I ended up being flinged into the corner.  Good thing I had decided to take my glasses off before we got into the ring.  "That's an illegal move.  You can't do that in amateur boxing," Alan grinned.  That's would be a good move to remember to use in a street fight, however. 

A Little Training and Some Fish

Janay came in just as sparring had begun between Ed and Jamil.  I showed her how to do hooks.  We also reviewed the left jab and right cross, which Alan had taught her the week before. 

My own workout took a little time to get into.  It felt like I hadn't done anything in awhile, even though I exercised six days out of the previous week.  I gained ten pounds back over the holidays, and those pounds
-- plus a lot more -- have to come off. 

There's a ten-pound medicine ball in my apartment which I haven't used since I brought it a few years ago.  If I remember on Wednesday, I'll donate it to the gym.  I was going to give away some of my old dumbbells, too.  While exercising to a walking DVD on Saturday, I made use of them, so I decided that it's worth keeping them. 

Fish kept popping into my mind while I was at the gym last night.  There is a bag of fish sticks in my freezer, and I thought they would go well with the Ceasar salad I brought.  When I opened the refrigerator upon returning home, I saw a catfish fillet, so on the ol' George Foreman grill it went.  I truly don't like to cook, and I'm not good at it.  But it's easy making food on that grill, especially where fish is concerned.  Catfish was a huge staple of my diet last year, but then it became too expensive to buy all the time.  Beef is a favorite of mine, but fish does need to be a bigger part of my diet, along with veggies.  Unlike fish, I have to force myself to eat vegetables.

Reading The Riot Act

Alan called me around quarter to six to say that he was going to be running late.  When I got to the gym, several people I hadn't seen before were waiting outside of the door.  A few of them knew JJ and Rick, who had also come in, so I wasn't too concerned.  They were there to work out as well as to give pointers to JJ.  The others were people who were first-timers to the gym.  Jayna and Rosie, the two women who showed up, basically wanted to observe and ask Alan questions before they committed to signing up.  Of everyone present, only two people, Anthony and Edgar, were signed up on the roster list.

Mary, the field house supervisor, wasn't having it.  "Who are all of these people?" she asked.  She got everyone's attention and made an announcement.  "If you're not signed up, you can't be in here.  If somebody gets hurt, I lose my job, and that is not happening.  You must come to the front desk and pay the fee!"  Rick went and got registration forms for everybody in an attempt to smooth the situation.  I didn't notice anyone going back down to the front with a form, however.  I wasn't working out much, because I was keeping an eye on the situation.

Ralphie knocked on the window, and I let him in the back door.  Mary had left the gym by that time, but when she heard the door slam (it makes a loud noise that can be heard down the hallway), she came back to the gym.  "Who came in?  Was it Alan?" she asked me.  "No, it wasn't Alan," I answered, but I didn't point out Ralphie.  Ralphie was standing nearby, looking like he was hoping that Mary wouldn't admonish him.  "People should not come through that door.  They need to come around to the front entrance," Mary said.  She was on her way back down the hallway, when another knock came at the window.  "Mary, that is probably Alan," I said, as I went to open the door.  Sure enough, it was, and Mary walked back to catch him. I got out of their way and went back inside the gym.

Alan came in the room minutes later, looking irritated.  Rick said, "I didn't want it to look like that someone was coming in taking over the gym.  But I understand Mary's point."  "I got read the riot act," Alan said.  "Again?" I said, remembering the drama that took place when Leon broke Deo's eye socket a few months ago.  Alan laughed, "Yeah, again."  Apparently, he and Mary had a difference of opinion.

Park district gyms are particularly vulnerable to people just walking in and expecting to get a workout.  But in the case of boxers and coaches who come from other park district gyms as well as the private gyms, perhaps there should be some kind of reciprocal agreement.  The problems in the gym don't usually come from the people who drop in who know what they are doing in the ring.  Instead, the problems come from the adults who think they know it all because they've watched a few fights on HBO and ESPN. They also come from the teens who just want to jump around in the ring and not take instruction. The kids who want to use the gym as another playground create problems, too.

"This is not a drop-in gym," Mary told everyone.  But maybe the answer is to have a drop-in fee.  I know the gym is not set up for that, but it would probably help to keep a lot of conflicts down.  Those who are serious about training won't necessarily balk about paying a fee to work out for one evening.  Those who are not aren't serious will be deterred from just showing up if they have to come out of their pockets to be there.  Plus, it'll be easier to show persons the door if they don't have a receipt nor a copy of the waiver they've signed.

Oksana's Return

I guess Monday was the first day of the Winter session.  Thinking that it was next week, I was surprised when a guy named Anthony came in.  Alan knew him from Clarendon.  Not long after he came in, Oksana, who had been in a few sessions ago, arrived.  I didn't recognize her at first.  Oksana was wearing a pair of glasses.  She told me that she hadn't worked out regularly since October of last year.  "Normally I work out several days a week for two hours each time," she said.y

After Alan and I did a couple of rounds using the punch donut, Oksana and I did two rounds a piece using my punch mitts.  "You have your own?" she asked.  "I haven't used them that much," I answered. I've had them for awhile, but they are practically brand new. 

"I'm glad that Oksana has come back in.  She'll be a good workout partner for you," Alan said later.  "Yes, and she is serious about doing the workout," I told him.  She would also be great to take a match.  Alan suggested that she could take on Meg.  Maybe Oksana could get a win where I couldn't.

Boxing Bookcase

There are plenty of books out there on boxing. You wouldn't know it, however, from looking at the shelves in many bookstores. Baseball, basketball, golf and football fill up shelf upon shelf, while you're lucky to find a few boxing books tucked in a corner. Usually, those books are shoved in with the martial arts and wrestling offerings (which are also low in number). Boxing, wrestling, MMA and martial arts share some things, but are ultimately different from one another.

Still, good boxing reading can be found. Currently, I'm reading The Boxer's Workout by Peter DePasquale. It's emphasis in on non-contact training and white collar boxing, but it has a lot of good, solid training advice. Others I recommend are:

Boxing For Everyone: How to Get Fit and Have Fun With Boxing by Cappy Kotz

Box Like The Pros by "Smokin' " Joe Frazier with William Dettloff

Boxer's Start-Up: A Beginner's Gude to Boxing by Doug Werner

Fiting Fit: Boxing Workouts Techniques and Sparring by Doug Werner and Alan Lachica

Boxing: The American Martial Art by R. Michael Onello

The Boxer's Heart: How I Fell in Love with the Ring by Kate Sekules

The Gleason's Gym Total Body Boxing Workout for Women by Hector Roca and Bruce Silverglad

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Fitness Boxing by Tom Seabourne, Ph.D.

Boxing Mastery: Advanced Techniques, Tactics, and Strategies from the Sweet Science by Mark Hatmaker and Doug Werner

Boxing: The Complete Guide to Training and Fitness by Danna Scott

On Boxing by Joyce Carol Oates

Workouts from Boxing's Greatest Champs: Get In Shape with Muhammad Ali, Fernando Vargas, Roy Jones Jr., and Other Legends by Gary Todd

The Rough Guide to Muhammad Ali by Paul Simpson

Atlas: From The Streets to the Ring: A Son's Struggle to Become A Man by Teddy Atlas and Peter Alson

Since bookstore offers are so skimpy, I would suggest going online to find boxing books:

Alibris - www.alibris.com

Amazon.com
Paladin Press - www.paladin-press.com
Ringside - www.ringside.com
Title Boxing - www.titleboxing.com

Bridgeport Boxing

I took a trip this morning up to the Chicago Boxing Club.  It is the successor to the old Windy City Gym, which had been a part of Chicago for over 80 years.  My intent was to donate an old cell phone of mine to the fund of a fallen boxer, Francisco Rodriguez.  I gave the phone to Rita, who had a similar brain injury to Rodriguez's.  She survived her ordeal, but unfortunately, Rodriguez did not.  Rita's hair is growing back in, and the current short cut looks cute on her.  She told me that it would look funny growing in for awhile because of the scar on her skull. I was glad to see her up and walking around.

The Chicago Boxing Club sits in the Bridgeport neighborhood.  It's not far from US Cellular Field (where the White Sox play).  Bridgeport is famous for producing a few city mayors including the current one, Richard Daley.  It is also known for its racial intolerance, particularly towards African-Americans.  I went to high school with a pair of twins who lived in that area.  More than once I overheard them bragging about jumping the Hispanics and African-Americans who came through the streets.  Hispanics have made inroads into what is still predominately a white area, but a lot of the same tensions remain.  I kept my antennae up as I got off the Halsted bus at 35th Street.

Barry, Kevin, Yale, Alan and Rick were in the gym when I arrive.  Also, Paul, whom I at first didn't recognize, was working out on the bags.  I saw legendary coach Sam Colonna, who runs the place, walking around.  Barry said the place reminded him of a loft.  It's a nice open space with two rings in the middle of the floor.  I noticed a sign over an uppercut bag asking boxers not to use it for uppercuts, but to punch it straight on.  The bag had seen a lot of use, as it was torn and worn in several places.  I liked the place, and it's fairly easy to get to by public transportation.

I had forgot to mention when I saw JJ at Loyola Park this past Wednesday, that he had pictures of two famous guys on his cell phone.  JJ had gone to a fight at the UIC Pavillion the weekend before.  He found himself sitting behind former pro boxer Thomas "The Hit Man" Hearns.  "I also met one of the HBO announcers, but I can't remember his name," JJ said to Rob and I.  "Larry Merchant?  Jim Lamphley?  Emmanuel Steward?" Rob and I guessed.  "This guy," JJ said, showing us the picture on his phone.  It was Max Kellerman.  "He and his brother Sam put out a rap record a long time ago," I said.  Rob told me, "Yeah, I remember that.  You have a good memory."  Kellerman and his late brother had some rap skills as displayed here on this clip: