The Sleeping Boxer

My allergies were bugging me big time on Wednesday.  Paulette dropped me off at Walgreens, and I picked up some allergy meds that worked a little too well.  Before I went inside the apartment, I talked with Ginny, a neighbor of mine from across the street.  "Hillari, you're nuts," she laughed, when I told her about the hit I had taken from Brandy on Monday.  In a more concerned tone, she told me that I  shouldn't spar on that evening.  Ginny's old enough to be my mother.  "Remember," she grinned, "I'm your elder, so you have to listen to me!" 

I dropped off to sleep when I got home, and when I woke up, it was way after the time I should have left for the gym.  I hustled down there and arrived ten minutes late.  "There she is," Alan said when I stumbled in.  "We were worried about you," Brandy said. 

I warmed up on the speed bag, and knew instantly that I was in no shape to spar Wednesday evening.  The allergy meds left me groggy, null, and void.  I wasn't focusing well.  Fortunately, Professor worked with Brandy.

Next, Sarah and Brandy sparred.  I was moving very slow, and not doing much of a workout, so I stayed close to ringside to watch. 

The still photo below is from Brandy and Sarah's sparring session.  Alan kept telling Brandy to stay on Sarah each time she got on the inside.  Brandy has to do that against her opponent next Friday, because from the clips we saw on her, Brandy's opponent is a bit aggressive. 

Alan asked Tommy again if he wanted to get in on the sparring with the girls.  He grinned as he told Alan, "Give me five months!"  Sarah and Brandy had just finished sparring, and Tommy told Professor and Israel, "See why I don't get into the ring with the women?  They're rough!"  Alan added, "Yeah, they bang each other when they're in there." 

I called Bob again, as suggested by Alan, to see about getting my coach's license faster.  Bob told me that the licences had been given out at the time people signed up for them.  I told him that I had been told mine would be mailed before the start of the Golden Gloves.  To double check, just in case my mind had a senior moment (like it's been doing from time to time since menopause started), I looked in the place in my apartment where I usually keep my boxing licences.  It wasn't there.  Bob told me he would look into it.

Taking It on the Chin

I laid in bed all day long on Sunday, missing church because I felt run down.  I didn't go to work Monday morning because I still didn't feel any better.  I laid in the bed for most of the day, got up to rant about various things on Facebook, and ate a little.  After awhile, I felt well enough to go to the gym.  But maybe I should have reconsidered.  I'll explain in a minute.

Professor brought a buddy of his named Israel to the gym with him.  Brandy came in not long afterwards, followed by Alan and his boss at his day job, Paul.  Amy and Sarah were also in attendance.  Joe, the guy whom Leon led to believe that Leon was a coach down at the gym, came in briefly.  He had his gloves, and he hit the speed bag for one round.  I overheard him asking Alan about signing up again he left.  I thought it was odd that Joe did such a brief workout.

Earlier, Brandy sent me a YouTube clip of the woman who'll be her opponent at the Gloves.  I was a bit concerned to learn that her opponent is a Muay Thai fighter.  The clip was of a bout she had out in Hoffman Estates.  Like a lot of Muay Thai, kickboxing, and MMA fighters, her punches were not very strong.  She was throwing a lot of wild punches, tiring out easily, and clinching a lot.  Her opponent knocked her down with kicks three or four times, indicating that the woman's balance may not be that great.  The woman lost that fight.  Alan saw the clip via Sarah's cell phone.  "Brandy's got to get in on her right away and dig with her punches," he said. 

Brandy and I suited up for sparring after a few rounds of loosening up by shadow boxing and bag work.  As soon as the bell rang, Brandy was on me like white on rice.  I tried to keep the action in the middle, but I got pushed back to the ropes several times.  I didn't time -- or throw -- my overhand rights correctly, and Brandy telegraphed them.  When I was inside a few times, I was able to get off a series of hooks to the body, but not for long, as Brandy danced out of the line of fire. 

I thought I was covering up well, even though I caught a few to my nose and left eye.  How wrong I was.  Brandy came in with a right.  Israel later said it was a right uppercut.  Bam!  Her fist got me on the chin.  I stepped back, thinking I would shake it off.  Instead, I fell face forward onto the canvas.  "I'm sorry!" I heard Brandy say from a distance.  "Are you okay?" Alan said from his spot ringside.  I put my hands under my head and rested on them.  "I'm fine," I said, as I closed my eyes.  "Just stay there," Alan ordered.



A moment later, Alan was helping me to my feet.  Brandy looked on in shock.  "That's how you have to fight when you're in the ring," he told her.  "That's exactly how you have to punch your opponent," I said, while trying to get my balance on shaky legs.  The round wasn't over yet, but Alan told me to come out of the ring for the rest of the evening.  I took my gear off and sat on a stool in front of my locker for a couple of rounds.  Alan kept asking me throughout the rest of the evening if I felt okay.  I wondered for a minute if the hit I took was payback for not going to church and not going to work.

Sarah suited up and got into the ring with Brandy next.  Brandy bloodied Sarah's nose up, not once but three times.  I forgot to mention that the last time they sparred, Sarah's nose was bleeding, too.  I was amazed because Sarah is much taller than both Brandy and I.  Brandy had to reach up to do that damage.  Alan was very pleased with both Brandy and Sarah's work in the ring.

Professor had Israel, Brandy, and Paul in the ring throwing around the medicine ball.  When someone missed catching it, they first had to do push ups in between.  Then Professor had them doing burpees which are much harder to do. 

We finished up doing burn outs on the heavy bags for two rounds.  Alan tried to get everybody to do a third round and everybody said, "No!"  Some of us were dead tired afterwards.

I didn't look at my face before leaving the gym, so I checked it when I got home.  Didn't notice any damage.  My bottom lip was dry, and I thought I felt a lump on it.  As soon as I touched it, my lip bled.  That may have been a delayed reaction to the punch I took earlier.  I pressed a piece of toilet paper to the cut, then sighed, as I realized I would have to order in again because there's wasn't much food in the 'fridge. 

Better Than Saturday Morning Cartoons

After Alan dropped me off near my apartment this morning, I went to get breakfast because I hadn't eaten yet.  While reading the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly, I saw that "Tennessee Tuxedo and His Tales", a cartoon I watched on Saturday mornings in 1963 (yes, I told my age again), has finally been released on DVD.  It was a struggle to crawl out of bed early this morning, something I had no problem doing when I was a kid.  The three major networks started the cartoons on Saturday at 6:00 AM.  I was planted in front of the TV in my pajamas with a bowl of cereal in my hands until noon.  I fought with my younger sister and brother about what we were going to watch.  I usually won.  I miss those days.  I still find it outrageous that NBC now runs an extra edition of the "Today" show on Saturdays in place of cartoons. 

If we were back in the 1960s and early 1970s, I would have been whining this morning, "But I'll miss my cartoons!" while on my way to the gym.  But truthfully, I needed the extra workout as much as Brandy needed the extra practice.  Brandy and I were outside the field house doors when Mary opened up.  Mary was surprised to see me.  "I usually don't see you here today," she said.  I explained that Alan was coming in to open the gym.  He had thought about doing a workout alongside us, but then he figured in that he had to go to temple afterwards.

Brandy had gone to the Golden Gloves this past Thursday to check out the scene.  She made some very good observations about the fighters who competed.  "Some were standing there slumped down in the middle of the first round.  I knew they had already lost.  Others were waiting to get one good punch in to end the fight instead of throwing enough punches," she said.  She enjoyed her time down there that night.  Brandy discovered that there are only four women signed up in her weight class.  All she has to do is win her first fight, then the second one will the one for the championship.  Alan smiled, "We're in!  They can give us the belt now."

We were in the gym for a little over an hour.  Brandy and I sparred for three good rounds.  I was popped in the stomach a few times.  The first time I took such a hit, I went "oof!", doubled over a little, and stepped back and away.  "When somebody has that reaction after taking that type of a hit," Alan told Brandy, "stay on them."  I rushed Brandy with a mix of punches, and twice she grabbed my arms to stop me.  "That was the first time I saw you grab someone twice," Alan told her.  There was a few times when I rushed forward, and Brandy let me get too close.  "It's based on points, so you can't let someone get too many hits in.  Grab her to stop them," Alan instructed.

After the second round, Alan asked who was sighing after the bell rang.  "It was probably the old woman," I said, referring to me.  Brandy and I worked the heavy bags after sparring, then we did a burn out for two rounds.  My right arm was crying after the first round of that, but I pushed on through the second round.

Still haven't received my new coach's passbook yet.  But I'm assuming the fire I lit under the post office yesterday worked because I did receive my other mail.  Late Thursday afternoon, a postal carrier had the nerve to tell another neighbor and I that she would not deliver mail on Friday, and maybe not Saturday either.  Workmen in my apartment building are remodeling the front lobby.  Conditions aren't dangerous enough to prevent anyone from walking through the lobby.  Plus, the mailboxes have now been moved right next to the front door.  The postal carrier doesn't have to come that far into the building anymore to deliver mail.  What, was she worried about dust getting on her clothes?  I resented the fact that the postal carrier felt they could make a judgement call about whether or not to deliver property that belongs to me.  I sent an email to the post office, put in a call to them, and informed the building's management company. 

Ladies' Night

Amy, Brandy, myself, Melinda, and Sarah were in the gym Wednesday evening.  Outside of Alan, the only other guys were Igor (who left early as usual) and Tommy. 

A woman who planned to sign up for the Spring session in April was at the front desk when I came in.  Gilberto told me that he had showed her the gym the day before, probably when Barry and the youths were there.  She took another look and stayed around awhile to observe what went on.  Brandy and I gave her information about the class. I emphasized that sparring was an option, not a requirement.  I make a point of doing that especially when women come in, because most of them usually say they do not want to engage in contact.  She said she was only interested in the workout. Hopefully, she'll return in a few weeks. 

Alan sparred with Brandy for three rounds, and the coach was up to his usual tricks.  He backed her against the ropes and I called out to her, "Hold him!" so Brandy could slow down his momentum.  It's not easy, as Alan is taller (as are most of the men in the gym) than all of the women, and he has a longer reach.  He caught her with something, and one of her contacts fell out.  "Can you see without them?" I asked, and she shook her head no. 

I sparred with Brandy, Sarah, and Melinda for a total of five rounds.  I hadn't sparred for that many rounds in a long time.  The last time was with Keith, and it's been a few years since he was attending the gym on a regular basis.  Melinda said that she doesn't block shots to her body well, but I didn't get many in.  She would leap away most times when I tried to get them in.  Sarah and I went light for the most part.

My last round with Brandy was the third one we had together that night.  Alan kept admonishing her to keep her hands up and to throw her punches fully out and with force.  I threw a right hook that connected hard.  I could hear Tommy going, "Whoa!"  Brandy answered my hook with several hard straight punches and hooks.  "Now you're fighting back!" Alan told her.  Then the round turned into a mini war that lasted practically up until the last bell rang.  I got backed up into the ropes by a barrage of punches from Brandy.  After overcoming being overwhelmed for a moment, I came back with another series of hard hooks and an overhand right that got another surprised reaction out of Tommy.  Brandy kept coming forward with a never-ending flurry of straight punches.  The more I spar with Brandy, the more I feel confident that she will effectively take on her opponents at the Golden Gloves.

Mostly Women, All The Time

It was just Brandy, Amy, myself, Tommy, and of course, Alan, in the gym last night.  A guy named Joe who knows Leon came in briefly to check the place out.  Joe said that Leon gave him the impression that he was a coach there.  Alan and I chuckled and shook our heads.

Brandy and I sparred for four rounds.  Whenever I stepped in and put pressure on by throwing flurries of punches, Alan would intruct her, "fight back!", which she did.  Brandy has to watch out for that, because that's exactly how many of the women she will face at the Golden Gloves will operate. 

I had to check myself for throwing too many right hooks to the body too often.  Brandy saw those punches coming, and nine times out of ten, she quickly avoided them.  I put too much energy into throwing those hooks, and I would turn myself around and get off balance.  I do that too much while throwing straight rights, as well.  Then I'm open, and it's easy for someone to step in, pop me, and step back out.

When I got home later, I noticed the same spots that Brandy usually catches me -- the sides and the ribs -- were hurting again.  They still feel that way today.  I groaned as I poured myself a cup of cider in the Pastor's office this morning.  I don't feel the effects of the punch she landed dead in the middle of my torso -- yet.  That was a good solid punch.  If she catches her opponents with that one, they will have no choice but to back up.  If Brandy really times that punch right, they'll be on one knee on the canvas.  I didn't go down, but I did fold over for a minute.

Brandy is now at her exact weight for the Golden Gloves.  She did admit to eating several donuts and some chocolate earlier in the day.  Donuts and sweet rolls were my breakfast of choice back in the day.  I often wish I could go back to that.  Alan suggested that she not eat that stuff.  "I had a Shamrock Shake during lunch," I confessed.  "Well, you're not trying to make weight for the Gloves," he said.  "But you should yell at me anyway for having a shake because of my diabetes," I said.  Alan gave me a look.  "Yeah, you have to watch out for that," he said. 

Alan brought up the conversation about me applying for a coach's job again last night.  I'll have to craft a good cover letter to plead my case to the Chicago Park District, as well as to private boxing gyms in the area. That would be a great job for me, even if it was only part-time.  I've been trying to figure out a way to make money in boxing for awhile.  Of course, I couldn't do it via being a fighter; I often wish I started boxing when I was sixteen, as opposed to being darn near 40 years old.  But there are other positions to be had in boxing, and coaching is one of them.  Running a web site about it is another, which is another angle I've been pursuing.

Some who read this blog have wondered, "You're always mentioning the church you attend/work at and the fact that the pastor's not exactly a fan of boxing. . .who is he and what does he look like?"  Earlier today, I tried to sneak and take a photo of Pastor Bolander, but he slipped out of the way.  Needless to say, that picture didn't look right.  "I don't want to take any pictures until I've lost some pounds," he said.  "Pastor, you sound just like some women who say they want to lose weight before they'll join a gym," I laughed.  "Amen, sister!" he chuckled (and he made sure I deleted that picture, LOL).  But he did tell me that I could use a Christmas portrait of him, his wife Virginia, and their bundle of energy, Isaac (otherwise known as Bam Bam), on the blog. 



Scraped Up

Alan was shaking his head about Igor Wednesday night.  "You can't get mad at him," he said.  I had hardly started dialing the numbers of the combination lock on my locker when Igor started bugging me about putting his watch inside it.  He always leaves the gym early, but by the time he was packing up, I was waiting for the bell to ring to spar a third round with Brandy.  "I can't get it now," I told him as I gave him a "what the hell?" look. I know that I waste energy being annoyed with Igor, but then, I'm also too old to keep dealing with nonsense out of grown men.

Speaking of men, the women dominated the gym again.  In addition to Alan and Igor, Josh came in.  Earlier in the day, Professor asked me via Facebook who in the gym was signed up for the Golden Gloves.  When I told him Brandy was the only one, he was surprised.

Alan sparred with Brandy, but he was being careful, as his hand is not quite 100% yet.  Inbetween rounds, Alan asked me why hadn't I applied for coaching jobs within the Chicago Park District.  I explained that I did when Steve left in 2008, but at the time, I didn't have a coach's license.  "You could probably get in, as there are no women coaching in the park district, and being a black woman, too," Alan pointed out.  Unfortunately, openings for boxing coaches don't come up often in the park district.  The last one I saw was for Simons Park about a couple of years ago when Johnny Heard retired.  I still feel that I'm a little green at coaching, despite of the fact that I watched Steve for six years, and nowadays, I listen to Alan when he's giving pointers to others.  But I would love to have a job coaching boxing if I could find one, especially now when I could really use the money. 

Alan stepped out after a couple of rounds, and I got in.  Brandy "The Fine Girl" (that's Alan's boxer nickname for her) comes after her opponents like she did me, they're going to have a hard time trying to take her out.  She broke me off something, as we used to say in the 'hood.  I was cracked in the head several times with hooks, I caught a hook to my left side, and I was popped in the mid-section.  Another hit threw me off balance, and I rolled on my back onto the canvas.  Alan helped me to my feet.  I kept thinking, "Keep the hands up, move the head, and focus!"  As usual, there were a few times when I didn't take my own advice.  During one of those times, Brandy's right hand came straight across my upper lip.

I knew I had been cut.  It doesn't happen often -- which is surprising considering how much I spar -- but sometimes it does.  Brandy and I were talking immediately after that last round.  "You're bleeding a little," she said.  "I'm okay.  I'll take care of it in a minute," I said.  I went down to the women's washroom and wiped the blood away.  "I'll put some Neosporin on it when I get home," I thought to myself, not knowing that I had none in the house.  I'll have to buy some tomorrow.

Alan had just mentioned Oscar the other day, and guess who showed up tonight.  I heard Oscar say he would try to come in more often.

Brandy's preliminary fight at the Golden Gloves is scheduled for March 23rd, which gives her a couple more weeks to train.  "But I wanted to stop dieting!" she said.  She didn't have that many pounds to lose, which was a good thing.  Brandy was hoping her fight would happen on March 8th.  I understand.  All that adrenaline builds up before a fight, and one just wants it to start as soon as possible. 

The Ladies' Circle

Brandy and I were standing out in the hallway for awhile tonight.  We were talking as Tommy walked up.  He wondered, just like we had, about where everybody else was.  Alan asked the same question when he arrived.  Melinda came in a little later, and that was it for gym attendance.

Tommy begged off sparring, so it was another round robin of sparring between Melinda, Brandy, and myself.  I got in a right on Brandy that stunned her so much that she had to shake it off.  I was worried because the Golden Gloves start next week, and I didn't want Brandy to get hurt before the tournament began.  She was okay, and Brandy answered my punches good as the rounds continued.  My right side hurts as I type this; that's the result of several good body shots she got in on me.

Melinda took a lot of good face shots from Brandy while they were in the ring.  Tommy and I were at ringside going, "Whoa!" and "Ooh!" a lot as Brandy made her connections with her left and right.  But Melinda waited for me to start throwing then banged me around during our time in the ring. 

Figuring that I should do more to protect myself from injuries than I have in the past, I wore my chest protector during sparring.  Alan said, "I'm glad to see you wearing this," he said, as he helped me put it on.  He also made his usual joke about knowing how to take a bra off a woman easily, but not knowing how to put one on a woman, which always cracks me up.  However, my chest didn't take any hits. The rest of my body did.  My left shoulder hurts a little bit now, too. 

Brandy is in her mid-twenties, and Melinda is in her early thirties.  I'm older than both, and I can hear people telling me I must be crazy for sparring with women who are younger and faster than me.  But over the last few months, sparring has become more and more enjoyable for me.  Melinda was saying how she wants to learn chess.  Alan looked at the ring and said, "That's a big chessboard there."  Boxing is like chess, as Tommy commented, and it's become more fun for me to try to guess an opponent's moves and counteract them.  I've always liked to spar, don't get me wrong.  But I'm become more focused in the ring than I have in the past, and that's what makes it interesting. 

Windy City Fight Night 21

Last night, I went to the UIC Pavillon to see boxing matches sponsored by 8 Count Productions.  There were seven fights on the card.  JJ's fight (in the light heavyweight category) was the third; Paul L.'s fight (in the super middleweight category) was the fifth bout.  Many of the familiar faces of the Chicago boxing scene, including Antonio, Rick, and Barry, were present.

All of the bouts moved along quickly.  The first bout, between heavyweights Curtis Tate and Alejandro Otero, ended in a knockout.  I believe Tate was the one who ended up on the canvas.  The second fight ended fast too, with Juan Bustamante taking out Ryan Strickland.  Strickland laid on the canvas near the ropes for awhile before getting up -- that was a super featherweight fight -- and still needed help to get back to the locker room area when he was on his feet. 

(P.S.) There is a correction:  Tate won the heavyweight fight.  Otero was knocked out.  Thanks to Boxer Girl for the information!

JJ's opponent walked to the ring brimming with confidence.  Covan Graham looked a little bigger than JJ in size, but JJ has bulked up.  The announcer stated JJ's weight was at 183 pounds.  I knew that I'd better pay attention and stay in my seat, because I had a feeling the match wasn't going to last long.  JJ's backed Graham near the ropes with straight punches.  Graham was hitting back, but throwing wildly.  Graham's right side was wide open.  JJ stepped around and dug a left hook into Graham's side.  Graham's crumbled to the ground, and did not beat the referree's eight count.  The bout was over in the first round.

Dimar Ortiz, a cruiserweight, had a lot of fans in the crowd on his side when he steamrolled over Emmanuel Wright, yet another fight that did not go the distance. 

I noticed that Paul L. had a tattoo on his chest that I hadn't seen previously.  It looked new.  He fought Cesar Martinez.  Martinez looked older than Paul L. from where I was sitting, but I couldn't be sure.  Martinez tried to hang in there, but was eventually overwhelmed by the bombs that Paul L. was throwing.  I learned later that was Paul L.'s second professional fight. 

Edner Cherry was the big name at the show Friday night.  The 29 year old was named Boxer of the Year in 2006 by ESPN, and had previously won the NABA and NABF lightweight titles.  Cherry fought Guillermo Sanchez in a super featherweight match scheduled for eight rounds.  After somewhat of a slow start in the few few rounds, "Cherry Bomb" unleashed his energy on Sanchez.  When Cherry won, he fell to the canvas on his knees and gave honor to God. 

The most exciting fight was between two hungry guys, Adrian Granados and Jamie Herrera, both of whom had a large crowd of supporters in the audience.  During their eight round welterweight bout, the two fighters took it to each other in a major way.  A guy sitting behind me told his friend that he thought the fight would end in a draw.  I couldn't guess who would be the victor, because the fight seemed very close to me.  When the eighth round ended, most of the spectators gave the boxers a standing ovation.  The referee raised Granados' hand as the winner.

JJ Looks For A Fight

Earlier on Wednesday, I rode up to Home Depot with Ken, Paulette, and Aaron.  Ken is the head of the volunteer work crew that meets at church during the week, and Aaron is the church custodian.  They had to pick up some stuff for the building.  Paulette attends the church and volunteers often.  When I got inside, I found JJ, who works at that particular location.  "Barry told me you didn't have a fight lined up for Friday," I said.  "Yeah, I'm supposed to have a fight, but I don't know," he said. 

I remember Barry telling me he thought the problem was that some guys didn't want to fight JJ.  JJ's professional boxing career reads undefeated as of now, so that could be an explanation.  JJ had footage of his fight in Kentucky on his cell phone.  His opponent was finished off in the first round.  It reminded me of several years during the Chicago Park District boxing show season when JJ couldn't get any amateur matches.  JJ was experiencing a long winning streak, word had gotten around that he was good, and suddenly, no one was willing to fight him.  Tonight, Barry told me that JJ was going to weigh in, so it looks like he might get a fight on Friday after all.  I brought a ticket off of Barry.  Paul L. is also fighting on Friday, and I want to see him in the ring, too. 

In the gym on Wednesday night, I sparred with Brandy and Melinda.  I think I did about five rounds total, which I hadn't done for a long time.  If Brandy hits her opponent at the Golden Gloves with that gut shot she gave me, she has a very good chance of winning.  She also has a a good right hook.  I was stunned for a minute, and I admonished myself for having my hands down at the wrong time.  It was darn near impossible for me to throw any straight punches or hooks towards Melinda.  She held me off with her straight right most of the time, and she popped me in the gut, too.  I surprised her once with a one-two-right hook combination that caused her to stop and laugh.  But that was the last good combination I got in.  Most of the body shots I attempted missed the mark.  She hit me with something that worked my neck.  My neck was a little stiff as I tried to get comfortable enough to go to sleep later on.

Leon came in, so did Paul (another Paul; there have been so many guys named Paul hanging around the gym over the years), Tommy, Ray, and Josh.  Leon was still insisting that he knocked Ray down that time they sparred a few months ago.  Alan joked that Deo, the guy that had his eye socket broken by Leon awhile ago, came into the gym with a weapon looking for Leon.  The truth was that the last time Deo was in, he did ask about Leon, but he wasn't mad about what happened.  Leon tried to tell others in the gym that Deo was a heavyweight; Deo is tall and about 135 pounds, if not lighter. 

I was looking for Emmanuel and Lavelle, but they didn't come in this week.  Alan had me check the attendance list, and a lot of people have been missing lately.  "They used to put the phone numbers of people next to their names on the list.  I wish they continued to do that because I could call people and ask if they're able to still come in," Alan said.  That would also be nice for when the gym is closed for any reason, and people could be alerted in advance so they won't have to make a wasted trip. 

President's Day at the Gym

"It's a quiet night," Abby observed.  Probably some people thought the gym wasn't open because of the holiday.  Once again, the women outnumbered the men.

Alan gave some extra attention to Brandy tonight since she signed up to compete in the Golden Gloves.  Ray gave her a high five when he learned she was in the competition.  "That's what's up!" he said.  Brandy complained that she was so hungry since she started dieting in order to compete in the 132 weight class.  Fortunately, she doesn't have a lot to lose.  I heard her tell Alan that she hadn't had to diet before.  I wish.  I've been on a constant quest to lose weight for years, even more so since I was diagnosed with diabetes five years ago.  Alan suggested to Brandy that she start running, at least a mile a day.

Jacob said he didn't mind sparring with the ladies, so Brandy, myself, and Abby took turns in the ring with him.  During one of my rounds with him, I impressed myself by breathing through my nose the entire time.  It's never a good idea to breath through one's mouth during fighting.  First of all, the opponent will quickly figure out, "Hey, this person's tired because they're breathing hard."  Second of all, a punch that comes in at the wrong time may end up with somebody losing their teeth, despite the fact that a mouthpiece is being worn. 

Matthieu came in briefly with a woman whom I assumed was his new girlfriend.  He was on crutches.  "I'll be back in the summer," he smiled. 

Ray would have liked to have signed up for the Gloves, but he's got a lot of things on his plate, including going to school.  Ray's going to school to learn how to teach others how to be barbers -- he would like to open his own school.  The beauty/barber game is popping, even in this economy.  Among African-Americans, we may cut down on how often we go to the barber and beauty shop, but we're not going to cut it out completely.  This is especially true of a lot of African-American women who are quick to tell people, "My hair has to be together!"  Ray has a lot of opportunities coming up in that field.

Jacob is taking online classes, learning medical technology so he can write ads for that industry.  I had never heard of that type of career before, but it sounds very lucrative.  He told me that it's a challenge because he has no past experience in the medical field. 



The hot flashes were coming during the third round I was in with Jacob.  I worked on the heavy bags afterwards, fighting off sluggishness as well as my left knee which decided to act up tonight.  The workout time was needed because I had been in a very foul mood earlier in the day.  It was one of those days where I thought, "If one more person says anything to me, I'll start swinging."  While I have many things to complain about all the time, I don't think any of my current problems were the basis of my attitude problem.  It felt like it was all menopause in full force.  Sparring and hitting the bags helped to put out the fuse on the dynamite. 

Enthusiasm On A Saturday

Like too many mornings lately, I woke up in a bad mood.  The constant noise from workmen renovating apartments in my building annoyed me, and it wouldn't allow me to have some extra shut-eye.  A sense of sadness was present in me over Whitney Houston's funeral taking place today, which brought back memories of my youngest sister and paternal grandmother, both of whose deaths took place this month.  Other long standing irritations and frustrations began to gnaw at me as soon as my clock alarm went off.   I forced myself out of bed, remembering that Brandy and I had agreed to go to the Golden Gloves sign up today at Gordon Tech High School together.

Brandy's enthusiasm for the tournament helped to shake me out of my doldrums.  She and her boyfriend Nick drove to my house on time along with their adorable dog Biscuit.  We arrived at Gordon Tech to find a handful of people in line.  It was early in the morning; I suspected that most would trickle in later throughout the day.  Alan had told me he would go in tomorrow to renew his coach's license. 

Familiar faces manned the sign up tables including Sam, Tracy, Tina, and Rita.  All I had to do was write a check to renew my coach's license, and I was done.  Brandy had to fill out several forms, plus have her picture taken.  As the photo was being done, Sam commented to the official tournament photographer, "Now that's a million dollar smile!"  There were a lot of questions on the form that I didn't remember being on the boxers' form last year. One question asked if the boxer had taken up the sport to get away from gang banging.  Brandy couldn't believe that was on the form and we both found it funny.  "We laugh, but for some of these guys, that is the reason why they got into boxing," I said. 

Brandy mentioned that boxing had given her more confidence since she became involved in it.  As an example, she told of a situation at work where another co-worker had disrespected her.  She confronted them right then and there, something she didn't feel comfortable about doing in the past.  I could relate.  At previous jobs I had before the last job where I was laid off from, I had been somewhat of a doormat.  The sport helped me develop a backbone to stand up to the six years of nonsense that my former boss and some other co-workers there were constantly perpetrating and expecting me to sign off on. 

Looks like Brandy is the only participant in the tournament from the adult boxing program this year.  After weighing in, Brandy learned that she only has to come down five pounds to fit into a weight class.  I don't think it'll be hard for her to do.  I did suggest that she do some extra training outside of the gym, since we're only there two days a week.  "Cut the carbs, cut down on the bread and pasta, and if you're drinking pop, cut that out.  Eat more veggies and fruit," I said, thinking that I need to take that advice as well.

Protection and Reputation

It looked like it was going to be another ladies' night at the gym on Wednesday.  Mary opened the door because Alan was running late.  Amanda, Amy, Sarah, Brandy and myself were waiting to get in. 

Tommy, who hadn't been there in awhile, came in.  Emmanuel came in with his nephew Lavelle, and much later, Josh showed up.  Emmanuel was hoping for some sparring, but there was really no one for him to mix it up with.  Lavelle put on the body shield (seen in the picture above), and he and his uncle did some light sparring. 

I was involved in another round robin time of sparring with Brandy, Tall Sarah, and Melinda.  I only got time in with Brandy (one round) and Sarah (two rounds).  I wasn't as sluggish as I was on Monday night, but I was being overly cautious.  Sarah got in another shot on the top of my head, while Brandy gave me a blow that landed on my left cheek.  While Melinda and Sarah were sparring, Sarah took some hard shots to her chest. 

Afterwards, Alan told us that all of us should be wearing chest protectors.  One sits at the bottom of my locker, and I seldom wear it.  "Why take that abuse when you don't have to?" Alan said, sounding like a dad giving advice to his daughters.  He was right, of course.  I should look into those sports bras where one can insert cups into for protection.  I don't wear the chest protector I have mainly because it's such a hassle to put on, and it's bulky.

Yesterday, I stopped into the gym to see Barry about tickets to JJ's fight.  JJ is listed on the card, but still doesn't have an opponent yet.  "Guys don't want to fight him, " Barry said.  When JJ was fighting in the amateurs, there was a period of time when he couldn't get fights either.  His reputation for taking dudes out got around quick, and no one wanted to step into the ring with him.  A couple of the policemen who stop into the gym from time to time came in.  When they learned about JJ, they looked at the boxing show poster and said, "He's on the program, but there's no fight for him?"  Hopefully, JJ will have an opponent by the time the fights take place next week. 

Brandy and I made plans to meet up to go down to the Golden Gloves registration later this week.  Barry said he was trying to convince Kenny to sign up, and Alan was trying his best to put it on Emmanuel's mind to participate.  But it looks like that Brandy will be the only contender -- and the first women that I know of -- to compete in the Gloves out of Loyola Park. 

A Church Connection

The picture above is of my office.  It was taken during the summer, which explains the air conditioner in one window and the other window being open. This was about three years ago too, because it doesn't quite look like that anymore. "Why does she have a picture of her job?" you may be wondering.  I'll explain the connection in a moment.

Reggie came in for awhile to explain that he has to have surgery on his knee.  It's going to take a few months for him to heal.  "Where are all the guys?" he asked.  Alan and I explained the disappearance of most of them, but it is odd.  I've never seen a time when so many guys have gone MIA at once.  The women outnumbered the men in the gym tonight, so much so that Alan cracked, "It's like being at Curves."

Mike and Igor were there, and Emmanuel came in a little later, but none of them sparred.  Emmanuel was accompanied by a young man whom I was surprised to see.  It was Lavelle, one of the teenagers who attends my church.  When I told Alan the connection between Lavelle and I, Alan asked, "How does he know Emmanuel?"  I learned that Emmanuel is Lavelle's uncle.  Emmanuel held pads for his nephew, as well as for Brandy, Melinda, and Igor. 

Tall Sarah, Brandy, and myself did another round robin session of boxing.  Sarah banged me on the top of my head.  It didn't hurt very much, but it did surprise me.  I was very sluggish during the first round I had with her, and Alan noticed.  "Grab her arms!" he ordered each time Sarah would batter me with bunches of punches.  I stopped for a second during the round and said, "It's hard!" and Reggie laughed.  One of Sarah's bombs decked me in my right eye; I wasn't seeing well out of that eye for a few moments afterwards.

It was a little easier to get more punches in on Brandy, but she started off throwing bombs, some of which caught me right in the face.  Brandy hesitated a bit, and Alan told her, "Hillari's waiting for you to come in so she can throw punches.  Throw your jab all the way out!"  I took a few good hard shots to my side, and one to my chest (in a sensitive spot, guess where).  When Sarah got back in for another go-round, Alan told me, "Now fight her like you did Brandy."  Eh, I couldn't exactly do it.  I often joke that I haven't been this short for this long to not know how to take somebody out who's bigger and taller, but Sarah got the better of me. 

Brandy said she was going to sign up for the Golden Gloves later this week.  Alan believes that she could do well.  I worry because I know she was doing fitness (aerobic) boxing before, and that did not include sparring.  I also know that the female fighters at the Gloves can be just as vicious, if not more so, than the males who compete there.  "Whoever taught her before did good in teaching her how to stand and how to keep her hands up.  She could fight as a novice," Alan pointed out. 

I really need to get back on my exercising outside of the ring.  The sluggishness I experienced while sparring with Sarah was one hint that I should.  The dragging around I did this past Saturday was another.  Then I learned that one of my aunts had a light stroke.  She's okay now, although she has to walk with a cane.  Strokes seem to be another health condition that runs in my family.  My maternal grandfather died not long after having one in 1984.  My dad had one back in 2000; his health was never quite the same after that happened, and it went into a slow decline until he died in 2004.  A couple of years ago, after having my blood pressure checked at a clinic, I was told, "It's a little high.  You seem like an active person.  I sure wouldn't want to see you stroke out."  Believe me, I don't want to see that either.  Exercise helps with prevention of strokes I've heard, so I'll do more of that.

Sparring With A Guy



Once again, most of the guys were missing from the gym on Wednesday.  Alan was saying, "There might be slim pickings this year for guys signing up for the Golden Gloves."  Usually by this time, there are scores of guys hanging in the gym, getting in sparring and extra training for the competition.

Shavar, who's a Computer Science student at Loyola University, sparred with Manny (Emmanuel).  Melinda (the woman in the picture above) and I were going to spar, when Alan suggested that we spar with Manny instead.  Earlier, Manny held pads for myself, Melinda and Renee.

Both Melinda and I did two rounds with Manny.  I had asked Alan about learning to throw overhand rights better earlier in the evening.  Alan suggested that I not use the punch if I can't throw it properly.  He had noticed that my timing is usually off, and that I'm too far away most of the time when I decide to execute the punch.  However, I managed to catch Manny with one overhand right during the first round we sparred.  "I saw it coming, I knew it was coming, but I didn't get out of the way," Manny laughed afterwards. 

Melinda caught him with a right just as he was backing away from her during their second round in the ring.  Manny had been on the ropes, then he turned out.  But Melinda stepped in and threw her punch.  I would have gotten in for a third round with him, but Manny said his lower back was starting to bother him (Melinda had hit him there a few times), so he bowed out. 

Ray came in later just to see what was going on.  He explained to us about an exercise using ropes that are anywhere from 50 to 100 pounds.  Manny had a video on his cell phone that showed how the exercise was done.  It involves snapping the ropes against the ground, and it looks great for gaining arm and general upper body strength. 

I need to go into the gym tomorrow to buy a ticket for JJ's upcoming fight at the UIC Pavillion later this month.  Barry's got tickets for sale, and I should have gone in on Tuesday to purchase one.  Unfortunately, Tuesday was a bad day for me.  It was the tenth anniversary of my younger sister's death, so I wasn't in the best of moods.  I overslept, and was two hours late to work, which meant I had to stay later (thank goodness I have some flexibility with my work hours).  Then I went to see the movie called The Artist, which wasn't bad by the way.  I got home later in the evening, and the stuff I should have done, grocery shopping and cleaning the house, did not get done -- but I didn't really feel like doing those things yesterday, so I'll try again later. 

A Lack Of Guys

Cynthia, the woman in the picture above, came to the gym to check it out.  She was looking for a kickboxing class, but I explained that Loyola Park doesn't have martial arts classes.  She put the gloves on, and even did a burn out on the bags.  She found everything interesting, and she plans to sign up and return.

I sparred with both Melinda and tall Sarah during a round robin session.  I moved my head and actually avoided some punches that way.  While in the ring, I did not feel my knees hurting or the hot flashes.  The ring is truly a fountain of youth.  I step in and thirty years is rolled back.  As soon as the sparring is over, I'm back to my real age. 

Wayne was the only guy in the gym for a minute.  Fortunately, Emmanuel came in, and he and Wayne got in some intense sparring.  Wayne ended up laying on the canvas a few times due to scuffles between him and Emmanuel and plain old slips.  Emmanuel was bopped with a few quick jabs, and Wayne had his middle worked by flurries of uppercuts. 

Matthieu had hurt his ankle while sparring with Jacob last Wednesday.  He sent me an email over the weekend that his ankle is broken and in a cast.  Matthieu won't be back in the ring for months.  That's too bad, especially since he just recently returned to the gym.

Sarah plays around on the heavy bag in the above picture.  Wayne asked why she wasn't ready to spar yet, and she answered, "I'm scared.  I guess I'll have to just jump in and do it."

Alan's hand is still on the mend, but he was not wearing his cast tonight.  "It was driving me crazy, so I took it off," he explained.  Upon closer look, I saw a couple of prominent scars/bruises on his hand, which hopefully will fade over time.

Anger Management

I got the news about Angelo Dundee's passing from the Internet yesterday.  "First, Don Cornelius, now Angelo Dundee", I said to myself.  I always liked to see Dundee on ESPN Classic's "Ringside" program, where the famous trainer would give his views about boxing.  He'll be missed.

Emmanuel came by with his adorable daughter, Enjoli.  Emmanuel told Alan that he's going to fight in the Golden Gloves this year.  "I haven't fought in four years," he said. 

Enjoli, whom I believe is six or seven years old, amused herself by starting up a quick friendship with another kid who was in the gym Wednesday night.  Josh is the nine year old son of Amanda, a woman who just joined the gym that night.  Enjoli and Josh were playing around the heavy bags and inside the ring.  She had gone into the ring, gloves on her hands, and asked Josh to follow.  Josh's mom admonished him by saying, "Boys don't fight with girls."  I snickered to myself, thinking about all the boys I fought when I was growing up, as well as the guys I've sparred with in the gym.  I stepped into the ring and did some mock sparring with Enjoli, squealing in mock pain whenever she landed a punch.

Jacob sparred with Mike.  I have to give Mike his props, because although Mike tires easily, he does hang in there.  "How do you get someone to come to you in the ring in order to throw punches?" he asked me after coming out of the ring.  "Keep moving around, but don't throw many punches.  They'll think you're not eager to mix it up.  When they come in, throw your punches quickly," I answered.

Emmanuel sparred with Jacob and gave the whole gym some good entertainment.  Their jabs were fast, their hooks were crisp, and they were taking it to each other.  Too bad that Jacob won't be able to compete in the Golden Gloves; he's returned to school, and he told Alan he wasn't going to have enough time to train. 

Igor showed up, which is unusual because Monday is usually the only day he comes in.  I had to get on him a bit.  He took his watch off, walked up to my locker, and proceded to put the watch inside the locker.  "You need to ask me first," I said, blocking his hand.  I'm tired of telling him to leave his watch at home if he's so worried about it.  Igor grunted somewhat of a request, then I let him put store the watch in my locker. 

Abby sparred with Brandy.  Alan and I kept telling her not to turn away from Brandy's punches.  Brandy used to do that a lot, but she doesn't do it much anymore.  When I sparred with Brandy that night, she took the punches and kept coming.  Melinda was turning her back on some of my punches, but when she answered them, she came back with bombs.  I was caught with a lot of body shots by both her and Brandy. 

Melinda told Alan that boxing helps her with anger management issues.  "Do you have problems with anger since you've been coming here?" she asked me.  I had to think about it for a second, and Melinda laughed at my hesitation.  "Not really," I said, laughing with her.  My temper is not as volcanic as it used to be, which is a good thing because there have been situations during the last week or so that surely had the potential to set me off like a rocket.

For example, I was in the computer store last weekend - I had to buy another laptop because my old one just died on me, and could not be fixed.  It was a trip scraping up the money for a new one since I'm not exactly financially stable at the moment.  A kid was in the long line in front of me.  Then several other people crowded in front of me and got next to him.  The kid was obviously holding a place in line for his family members, one of whom thought it was funny because she butted me in line.  When I was younger, such behavior was met by me cursing the offenders out, and pushing them out of the line (which of course, always caused a bigger commotion, but being young, I didn't care then).  I just let the incident go.  I gave the stink eye to the chick in front of me, but I let it go. 

The unemployment office was another source of contention as I had to re-apply for benefits due to making too much money over the weekly benefit I received (I had done some house sitting jobs over the holidays).  I had to wait three hours only to have someone talk to me for less than five minutes and give me a form to fill out.  "You'll hear from us in ten days.  If you don't you have to come in again," I was told.  People already come to the unemployment office depressed, angry, and anxious. .  .sigh.
I could have yelled and screamed, as I was tired from running errands all that day, but it wouldn't have made things move faster for me.

Yes, the heavy bags are good therapy.  I need to visit the "office" every week to work off frustrations.

The Queen Bee

The electricity was out at the field house, so the gym was not open tonight.  Alan called me a couple of hours before the gym was due to open to let me know.  He said he had some paperwork to catch up on, so it worked out for him.  I had to figure out what to do with my evening.  Cleaning the house?  Something I'd rather do in the daylight, and only if I'm in the mood.  Doing the laundry?  I still can't find my stash of quarters, and I'll have to buy a new roll of them.  Watching TV?  On Monday, nothing's on until ten o'clock when "Chelsea Lately" airs.

I still needed to write a Monday blog entry, but I couldn't think of what to put in this space.  Then I remembered Alan saying something last week about, "Hillari used to be the queen bee in the gym until these other women started coming in."  Yeah, I was.  I don't state that in a egotistical way.  I'm not stomping into the gym ready to start something like Aunt Esther.

Nor am I making grand entrances and airly announcing, "Look at me and be dazzled," like the fabulous Nene Leakes.

I think of being a queen bee partially because I've been there for so long.  It'll be ten years come this August.  I started out regularly showing up like everyone else, then I became a volunteer in 2006 (been a volunteer in the gym for six years as of this spring). 

I'm also a queen bee sort of like Honey West.  A bit of TV history:  "Honey West" was a detective series in 1965 on ABC, and the first show of its type to feature a woman chasing down criminals.  Honey was a tough cookie.  In just about every episode of that short-lived series, she was giving out beat downs.  But she wasn't so hard that she turned people off, and she was very helpful to everyone who sought out her assistance.  I like to think that I'm helpful in showing people that boxing is enjoyable.

The Go-To Girl

While several of us waited on Alan to open the gym door on Wednesday, Leroy expressed a thought that I had heard several times before.  He said he needed to have more hours to train, but the Loyola Park gym doesn't offer enough of them.  That's one reason why Steve, the former coach, would say that people needed to do extra workouts outside of the gym.  But I can understand why guys like Leroy, who really want to compete, would want to have more time in a gym.

Jacob and Leroy sparred, and they were good matches for each other.  Jacob was really working his jab, and Leroy was answering punches very well.  Ray was giving extra instructions from the side. 

Alan told me to get ready because I had a line of women wanting to spar with me.  Abby and I sparred for one round and we went light.  She was pawing most of the time, and Alan encouraged her to put her punches all the way out.

Brandy and I sparred for three rounds and her punches seemed to be harder than the last time we were in the ring.  A few times I had my hands down, but I quickly remembered to put them back up once I was rocked with some hits.  I caught a right fist to my left eye, and several punches reached my mid-section.  I kept trying to deliver hooks, but Brandy was very good at backing up and avoiding most of them.  I got her with a jab, and her right eye blinked furiously.  "Are you okay?" Alan and I asked.  "It's just my contact moving around," she said.  Afterwards, Brandy said that it was very easy to telegraph my overhand right.  She dodged it each time.  I'm either going to practice and get it right or stop doing it altogether. 

Melinda sparred with Sarah, and she immediately threw hard punches.  Sarah returned the same, and Melinda became tired quickly.  Alan told Melinda, "If you start throwing bombs, Sarah has no choice but to defend herself and hit hard back."  Then he put Sarah in with Jacob.  Alan was saying that perhaps he should put Sarah in with guys more because of her punching power, and several others in the gym -- including me -- agreed.

Alan had his finger surgery the day before, so he had a cast on.   That made it difficult for him to help people suit up, so I was doing those duties.  It's going to be six weeks before his hand is back to normal.

Today, Pastor Roger asked if I had thought about being paid to coach boxing.  I'm often offered to coach individuals for free when asked.  Amateur boxing coaches do get paid, like the ones in the Chicago Park District system (Alan, George, Jack, Bill, etc.).  But I didn't think most who were not associated with a gym did.  "Why don't you coach both amateurs and professionals?" the pastor asked.  "I'd have to be licensed as a professional coach to work with pros," I said.  I told him I want to have one more fight, but I don't get as many fights as the guys do.  Pastor wondered if I could be a professional boxer, but I explained that the same health issues that keep me out of sanctioned amateur matches would also keep me from getting a professional boxing license. 

"What about doing MMA?" Pastor Roger inquired.  "I'm tough enough to take the knocks that I get in boxing, but I'm not sturdy enough for the take downs that happen in that sport.  If I was 20 years younger, I'd be all over that."