Another Walkout and More Vandalism

I walked into the gym to find an old speed bag, which I had hung up for the fighters to use as a slip bag, had been torn down and thrown to the floor.  I had just hung that up yesterday, as well as a new slip bag I purchased from Ringside. I guess the rope holding up the new slip bag was too hard to pull down, which was why that was still hanging.  I have no doubt that one of the little wonders were literally swinging on the speed bag that came down.

So I go to the camp director -- again.  I had the downed speed bag in my hands.  "The kids were only in there to get their lunch, but they didn't eat in there," she said.  Regardless of the fact that the summer camp kids don't eat in the gym often, they're always in there long enough to mess with the equipment.  The camp counselors never seem to put the kids in check about that unless I happen to be on the premises yelling at the kids to stay off the equipment.  Fortunately, one of the attendants backed me up.  They had been in the gym to clean earlier in the morning.  "I didn't see that bag on the floor when I was in there.  It had to be one of the summer camp kids who did that," they said.

The camp director had no answer -- again.  I walked away, loudly grumbling, "I'll be glad when these summer camp kids are gone!"  "You and me both, so we can get back to a regular schedule!" the attendant said in agreement.

Later, Nassir and Derrick Jr. showed up for boxing class.  Derrick Jr. was working hard as usual.  Nassir rolled into the place twenty minutes late, then dawdled around for several minutes more.  I kept getting on Nassir to follow the workout schedule which is in black and white, and in plain English up on one of the bulletin boards.  But Nassir didn't want to listen, nor do what was required. "Do you want to win the next fight?' I asked him.  Apparently tired of my nagging, Nassir left early, but not before leaving a parting shot.  "I'll just get out of your way," I was told.  Nassir comes to the gym when the mood hits, often shows up late, is seldom focused on the workout, and then tries to put me on a guilt trip?  Very few have been successful in sending me on those journeys; Nassir better ask somebody.

Lateness and Attitudes

Nassir waltzed into the gym 35 minutes late, and I pointed it out to him.  "What's going on?" his mom asked, and I explained the situation to her.  Then Nassir mostly wasted what was left of class time:  taking too long to put on hand wraps, talking with the other kids, being distracted by other activity in the gym, and generally just standing around.

I worked mainly with Little Jordan, because Rocky and Derrick Sr. were working with Kishaun and Derrick Jr.  Little Jordan was not turning his fists over properly while hitting the punch mitts I was holding.  I kept thinking about how badly Little Jordan's last fight went, and I got on him a little hard about not being focused.  Little Jordan didn't appear to be enthusiastic about the rest of his workout, either.

However, I gave up on Nassir after several minutes.  At ten minutes to the end of class, I told both him and Little Jordan to take off their wraps and finish out with floor exercises.  Nassir mumbled some excuses, but I wasn't in the mood.  "Nassir, when you're late, that's training time that's being missed," I said.  Nassir's last fight was a disaster as well.

I compared how hard Kishaun, Derrick Jr., and later, Andre, were working to Little Jordan and Nassir's attitudes.  I wanted to ask Little Jordan and Nassir if they wanted to win their next fights.  Concerned about how my tone would sound, I kept quiet.  I would really like to hear their answers, however, since Little Jordan and Nassir's attendance has been sporadic as of late, and I can't seem to get any cooperation out of them when they are in the gym.  

Locked Doors and Missed Sparring

I was tired Monday night, but I went up to Loyola Park anyway.  Usually that is the only time of the week where I actually get some real exercise in.  I begged off sparring with Kelly, however.  My knees took a pounding from walking extensively through two street festivals the day before.

Not many people were in attendance which is the usual for this time of year.  But it is always such a pleasure to go to a gym where there are mirrors for shadow boxing, a speed bag, and more than one heavy bag up -- all things which LaFollette Park's gym still doesn't have.  I ordered a slip bag over the weekend, but I don't plan to put it up until LaFollette's summer camp is completely over.  I don't need any of the summer camp kids swinging on it and tearing it down.

The kids and teen boxing classes were empty today at LaFollette.  Before the adult class began, I noticed that the outermost door leading to the gym was closed.  People know I'm down here.  Why in the hell was the door closed?  I thought to myself.  Ben, BJ, and Alex showed up for the adult class.  Just as I was closing up the gym after they left, Rocky showed up with Derrick, Kishaun, and a couple of new boys who wanted to join the classes.  They told me they had showed up earlier, but the outermost door was locked.  When they went up to the front desk to ask if class was taking place, they were allegedly told that I was either walking along the track in the park or I was on break.

Really?  I haven't had time to walk on the track surrounding the football field since last summer.  And when do I go on break?  I don't really get breaks; I'm always in the gym.  Rocky and the boys were disappointed that they missed out on sparring.  I was irritated that they had been given some wrong information about my whereabouts.  Also, the outermost door being locked was probably the work of the kids who are attending the late summer camp and/or the camp counselors.  They didn't come inside the gym, thank goodness, to get their afternoon snack.  The kids went directly into the Teen Club room down the hallway from the gym (where the kitchen is) to get fed.

Since I still haven't received the fliers I requested, I called the other coaches to let them know about the sparring session I'm having on the last day of the summer session.  I didn't catch anybody as most of their classes start later in the day, but I did leave messages.  Next week is another boxing show -- this time at Ogden Park -- so I'll spread the word more when I get there.

Biting My Tongue To An Extent

The above photo is of one of two bulletin boards up in La Follette Park's boxing gym.  This particular board hadn't been up for too long when I took the picture.  These days, the board looks like it has been through a war.  Today I walked in to find another of the postings on this board torn down and on the floor.

So I take my concern to the appropriate parties, namely the camp director, and a few of the summer camp counselors who happened to be standing nearby.  Let's just say the answer I received as to why the kids can't be told to stop putting their hands on the bulletin board was not satisfactory.  One of the counselors had the nerve to say, "I feel you, but tomorrow is the last day of the regular camp, and we'll get a break."  "I needed a break all summer long, because this keeps happening," I said, my temper rising in my chest.  I abruptly walked away before I really said something that would upset everyone.

If the posting had been completely destroyed, I could have easily replaced it.  What really pissed me off about the incident was the lack of respect shown towards my work space.  Later, when the summer camp kids came down for their afternoon snack, I parked myself in a chair in front of the board in order to keep them off of it.  When I saw kids with food sitting on the apron of the gym, I barked at them to get up.  Another kid put her finger on my thigh as she passed by in the food line, and let it linger there for too long.  She grinned at me.  "Why are you touching me?" I snapped.  She moved away.

There was a boxing show at Seward.  I closed up the gym and came upstairs to the front desk about 45 minutes before leaving La Follette to go there.  "Why are you looking so mean?" another staff member asked me.  "I'm not in the mood to deal with these kids today," I said.  "Well, that's your job, boo," they answered.  "I'm glad I don't have to deal with kids at home," I retorted.  I was in a foul mood, and efforts to keep biting my tongue were threatening to fail, big time.

Andre and Kishaun made it to Seward.  Surprisingly, not enough parks showed up with their fighters.  That was too bad for Kishaun, who didn't get a fight. Andre got a fight with a kid whom I was told didn't have much experience.  However, the kid was a little bigger than Andre in terms of strength.  The kid looked like they lifted weights.  "Uh, oh," I thought when I saw him.

Alan, who was there with four guys from the adult boxing program at Loyola, helped me in the corner with Andre.  Andre has strong punches, but he didn't use them.  I kept telling Andre not to allow the other kid to back him into the ropes and corners, but to no avail.  Andre kept bending over and covering up, as well as not keeping his eyes on the other guy.  Rocky was giving him advice, too, but Andre wasn't listening.  Andre received three eight counts.  Of course, Andre did not win the fight.

Then I helped Ralph, one of the fighters from Loyola Park, in his corner.  He had an exhibition match against John (who is a teacher, by the way, just like the other John at Loyola).  John caught Ralph in the nose.  I was wiping blood off of Ralph in between the second and third round.  They both did well, however.

During that fight, Nassir, who had tagged along with Andre, was standing ringside, calling out instructions as if he was the coach.  One more thing to piss me off today, I thought.  Then Nassir was peppering me with questions about upcoming boxing shows while the match was going on.  I tried to keep my focus on Ralph and John.

After taking the headgear off of Andre after his fight, I told him, "We're going to have to work on technique again in the gym."  Back to the drawing board -- again.

Thirty Years Younger

I did four rounds of sparring at Loyola Park -- two with Annie, and two with Katie.  It was Annie's last day at the gym.  She's moving to Maryland.  Alan told her she could probably find good boxing gyms out there.

Annie moves similar to Erica.  She bounces a lot, but it's not wasted movement.  I got cracked upside my head a few times because I didn't have my hands up.  I was able, however, to get in more hooks.

It was hard to get in body blows on Katie.  She uses her long arms to an advantage.  I kept tapping her left jab down, and I tried to come over with my straight right.  I kept thinking "be an inside fighter", but it was tough for me to do so.  Katie would get hers in then move back.  I was trying to return punches from a mile away, as Alan put it.

Turns out that both Katie and Annie are about thirty years younger than I am.  No wonder I was having a hard time keeping up.  Sparring with them just further proved to me why I should no longer entertain the idea of competing.  Both my knees felt like they were swollen.  I was moving around the ring like a turtle.

One reason that I spar when I go to Loyola Park is to get exercise in.  Another reason is to keep up on skills so I can pass them on to the kids and adults at La Follette Park.  Also, when the kids in particular start talking about, "I'm tired", I can point out that if a middle aged woman like myself can do a few rounds of sparring, the kids can do a workout.

A Fair Interruption

I saw the move Southpaw.  Reviews for it had been mixed, and not really complimentary, but it wasn't bad.  Jim Lampley, Jimmy Lennon Jr., Roy Jones Jr., and Lou Di Bella -- real-life members of the boxing community -- were featured in the film.  Jake Gyllenhall was cut.  Whoever trained him for this film did a good job.  Most of the punches were rough and beautiful.

Yesterday was the second day of zero training in the gym at LaFollette Park.  The day before that, the gym was shut down for cleaning in preparation for a neighborhood gospel fest that took place the following day.  I spent all day yesterday keeping people off of the ring and the heavy bags.

Hot dogs and hamburgers were being given away outside to the kids attending the fest.  There is a kitchen in the gym area, and more mature fare (chicken, macaroni and cheese, etc.) was prepared for the adults who didn't want hot dogs and burgers.  A few tried to park themselves on the apron of the gym to eat.  "No food on the ring, please," I said loudly.

I overheard one parent grumbling because they were told that their little wonders were only allowed to get the hot dogs and hamburger that were being grilled outside.  The parent went on and on about how "mean" church people, the ones who were serving the food, are.  What I heard was an entitled mama attitude that she needed to get over and drop.

After explaining to the one of the boys who plays football why the gym was shut down for two day, he asked, "So Coach Hillari, you're not happy about not being able to train?"  "Yeah, I'm a bit pissed, but there's not much I can do," I replied.  Nearby was a dental outfit who were offering teeth cleanings in the gym. Yes, you read that right; dental services in a boxing gym.  Earlier, they had moved the equipment table and a chair I had been sitting on without asking.  I know they heard my comment, but I didn't care.  I've become very protective of my space in the field house.

A New One On Me

The other day found Rocky and I trying to convince Kishaun to shadowbox.  "It just doesn't feel right," Kishaun said.  "What doesn't feel right?" I asked.  "I don't have anyone in front of me," Kishaun answered.  "It doesn't matter!" Rocky said in frustration.

We still don't have mirrors in the gym, and I doubt there will be any in there anytime soon.  But I explained to Kishaun that shadowboxing is part of boxing training, and it has to be done.  I had never heard "it doesn't feel right" being used as a reason not to shadowbox before.

Rocky took a a seat and grumbled about Kishaun wasting time in the gym.  I was irritated, too, because Kishaun seems to give his all during football practice, but acts lazy in the boxing gym.  "Use your imagination!" Rocky snapped when Kishaun repeated again about shadowboxing being hard because of the lack of having a live person in front of him.  Eventually, Kishaun did do a couple of rounds of shadowboxing, but more should have been done.

Derrick won't be going to Seward Park's boxing show next week because his dad believes he needs to work on head movement and the left jab more.  I'm in agreement with Derrick's dad.  BJ's dad wants him to wait a couple of months before taking a fight.  I agree with that, too.  Tyrone is fairly new, and not ready to take on a fight yet.  Neither is Andre.  Nassir and Little Jordan show up to train on and off, and don't follow instructions when they do.  Little Jordan's sister, Jordana, seldom attends the gym.  Dorian and Trejan don't show up consistently nor train hard enough.  LaKendrick hasn't been in the gym for over a week.  Ashley wants to fight, but doesn't want to spar.  Mya doesn't want to spar or fight.  Guadalupe, Big Jordan, and Tandi seem to have disappeared, and Shanita and Julius quit.

That leaves Kishaun, who's dividing his time between boxing and football, and Carmelius.  The gym is going to be closed for two days due to a gospel fest that I just recently learned about (and I have to be there to monitor the people going in and out).  None of the kids can afford to lose training time in the middle of the park district boxing season, but there's nothing I can do about that.  We'll just have to step up training next week for the couple of days before the boxing show takes place.

Parents Need To Know Their Place

I walked into the gym, thankful that I did not have to deal with the summer camp kids today.  But they had been there earlier in the day.  A large poster I had up on the bulletin board had been ripped down.  Someone had laid it to the side, but no note had been left explaining how it got there.  Nor did any of the staff say anything.  After re-stapling it up, I reported the incident to Steve, the supervisor.  He promised to talk to the camp counselors about seeing to it that the kids touch nothing while they are in the gym.

To avoid a repeat of having to deal with most of the kids' destructive ways, I sat in a chair right in front of the bulletin board when they came down to get their afternoon snack.  I had to put up with a lot of offhand remarks about my hair (I went to the barber shop yesterday), but my presence kept the kids from leaning on and touching that board.  I wish I had thought to do that the first time I noticed the kids were vandalizing that board.  Unfortunately, I can't protect the board earlier in the day when I'm not there.  But I'm damn sure not going to allow the kids to tear it up when I'm actually in the room.

Shanita and Julius came in again.  Why?  I have no idea.  I officially withdrew them from the class today.  Shanita's insistence that she has still "got it" indicates she has no understanding about how quickly skills not being used can diminish.  Julius said nothing, and I didn't say a word to him. Maybe he picked up on the fact that I'm still a bit ticked about Julius backing out of a fight a few weeks ago with no notice.

Later, there was a sparring match between two of the boys.  One boy is usually very good on his feet, but for some reason, he stopped defending against the other boy's punches.  When I saw the headgear was askew, and tears running down the boy's face, I called him to come out of the ring.  However, the parent of the boy who was "winning" wanted the other boy to keep fighting.  "He's good," the parent kept insisting.

But the other parent pulled their kid out after admonishing their kid for being a "sitting target".  Despite of this, the parent of the "winner" kept pushing for the sparring to continue.  The other parent snapped, "I got this!" and a small argument began.  I stayed quiet, waiting to see how it was going to play out.  The other parent apologized to me and took their son home.  "We'll try again tomorrow," they told me.

However, the parent of the "winner" still didn't get that the sparring was over.  They didn't even notice the other parent and their kid had left.  I noticed they thought it was amusing that a minor argument had taken place.  But it wasn't funny to the other parent, and it wasn't funny to me.

Parents need to know their place in the gym, and to be honest, I need to be more direct with some of them about who really is in charge.  I was not cool with the idea that the parent of the "winner" was willing to ignore the fact that the other boy was hurt just so their kid could get some sparring work in.  That's not what amateur boxing is about.  Yes, kids are going to get hurt from time to time.  But amateur boxing is about safety, not letting sparring or actual fights go on until one or both fighters need serious medical attention.  Trust me, that incident will not happen again.  The door to the gym opens as well as closes.

Five Rounds Of The Night

It's Gabe vs. John (the other one, not John the teacher) during sparring at Loyola Park.

I did five rounds of sparring: three with Kelly, and two with Katie.  Kelly is not much taller than I, but she stayed on her toes and moved around a lot more than I did.  It was only during the third round with her that I remembered to move my head.  After going a little too hard with my right hook, I heard Alan telling me, "Easy, Hillari!"

Katie's long arms were hard to get around, and she kept the jab in my face.  I got in hooks to the body, but like Kelly, she kept moving around, too.  I could back Kelly up into the corners sometimes, but I couldn't do that to Katie.  My knees were not doing so well during the last round with Katie.  I plodded along until the bell rang to end it.

John also sparred with Rafael, who is from Austria.  I missed seeing a hard punch that John gave Rafael, but I saw the result.  Rafael was bleeding all over one of the gym's towels.  He went to the washroom to clean up, and when he returned, he gave John a high five.  Alan was praising John about how he opened up on Rafael.

Geniece opened up on a guy named Richard.  I could tell Richard wasn't hitting her very hard.  But she didn't hold back on him.  A couple of times, Richard stepped back and shook his head to clear it after Geniece rocked him.

Today, I finally brought a scale for the gym at LaFollette.  I'm going to hide it for a minute in the storage room.  Some of the kids treated the other scale (which belongs to Ken, who trains people in the fitness center) like a toy.  They kept wanting to get on it every time they were at the gym, which is unnecessary.  I also ordered cones so the kids can work on their footwork.  An agility ladder would have been better, but the floor in the gym is uneven, so a ladder wouldn't sit properly.  Alan suggested that I also get milk crates so the kids can jump over them in order to work on their footwork.  I also got a pair of one pound weights; I'll buy a few more pair before summer ends.  Those are for shadow boxing.  Unfortunately, I can't buy everything I want for the gym out of my own pocket, but I can purchase a few things to help the fighters out.

No Apology and No Understanding

There's a moment in the movie Bye Bye Birdie where Paul Lynde (the guy in the above photo) sings a song called "Kids".  It is a father's complaint about kids in general.  I felt like that today when Shanita and Julius dropped in, along with a woman who was either a friend or relative of theirs.

"The other fighter, as well as that fighter's coach were not happy when you didn't show up to fight at the show," I told Julius.  I got no apology.  Not even a "Hey, coach", or even "Shut up, Hillari".  Just a dumb look.  Shanita started going on about how she had a basketball game coming up, and how she still thinks she has boxing skills.

The woman they came in with asked if she could get into the ring with Shanita.  I explained that since she was not signed up, she could not use the equipment nor spar.  "It's an safety issue, and I don't want my boss mad at me," I told her.  Moments later, as if I had said nothing at all, the chick asks me could she hit the uppercut bag.  "I'm an employee, and I have to follow rules.  Sign up if you are interested in the class," I said, trying to keep the annoyance out of my tone.  What in the hell did she not understand about what I told her earlier?  Thankfully, all three left the gym after that.

Otherwise, it was another slow day at the gym.  Thank goodness the ring did get some use by Mike and his kickboxing class.  I have a nice, roomy gym space, yet the ones who are supposed to be using it don't bother to show up regularly. Today was a sparring day, too, and week after next, we're supposed to be going to Seward Park for another boxing show.  Shaking my head. . . . . .

An Empty Gym On A Summer Day

I want the bulletin board in the photo above to keep that display permanently.  But I don't know how long it's going to last because the summer camp kids keep touching it.  Unfortunately, the kids come down to the gym to get their meals and snacks during the day.  I fix what damage that was done in the morning when I get there later in the day.  However, when they show up for their afternoon snack, I'm there, watching them like a hawk.  Every day I have to snap on several kids for pulling staples out of the pictures.  

Today was slow because no one showed up for the classes.  Jadora and her brother Little Jordan came in, but I didn't count them because their stay was brief.  Little Jordan walked in for a second, was distracted by something on his cell phone, then walked back out.  Jadora was late returning from a field trip (she's in summer camp).  She began to wrap her hands, then said something about having to go get her brother.  When she came back, she had undone the wrap she had put on one hand, and announced she couldn't do the class today.

Ben, who's in the adult class, was nice enough to stop in and explain that due to a family event, he, his wife, and their teen son wouldn't be in class for the rest of the week.  "It's summer," he said, and I understood.  But I don't understand the kids in the 12 and under class going MIA when they know another boxing show is on the horizon.

Yesterday was a sparring day, and tomorrow is a sparring day, but not today.  I'm beginning to wonder if some kids are skipping the non-sparring days.  The last few times, the gym was populated on the sparring days, but not so much on the regular workout days.  No matter how many times I keep saying that sparring alone is not going to help in a regular match, few, if any of the kids, actually pay attention.

Ashley had the nerve to tell me that she doesn't want to spar, but she wants to fight.  I told her if she doesn't spar, she won't fight.  Some of the kids have a habit of trying to picking with whom they want to spar.  Their decisions are usually based on how easily they believe they can handle the other person.  I told Ashley she will have to spar with the boys.  Her sister Mya is too small, and Jordana is taller and bigger than Ashley.

She made a big deal out of knowing the ages of the boys.  I was going to put her in with Jordan, whom I believe is eleven years old.  Ashley is nine years old.  "He's older than me!" she said.  "It doesn't matter.  You're both somewhat equal in height and weight," I answered with a bit of irritation in my voice.  She ended up sparring with her brother, Carmelius, who is a year older than she.  I've told both her and her sister how I sparred with men in the past when there were few or no women for me to spar.  Looks like I'm going to have to have that conversation again with them.

A guardian of one of the kids noticed that Big Jordan hasn't been in for awhile.  "Can you call his mom and tell her you're taking him out of the class?  I got a friend who wants to get his son in here," the guardian told me.  It's incidents like that which make coaches grumble about having to deal with parents and guardians.  I patiently explained that not only do I need permission from a parent/guardian to put a kid in the class, I also have to have their permission to withdraw a kid from the class.  I can't just take it upon myself to drop someone from the class because I haven't seen them for days or weeks on end.  Sometimes I get the feeling that people think I can -- and should -- bend the rules.  People forget that as an employee, I have rules that I have to follow.

I Had To Have A Hot Dog

During the summer, religious groups can be found in the park, doing missionary work.  I was half thinking about sparring while on my way to the gym, when I came upon such a group.  They were giving away hot dogs and chips.  There went any plans for me to spar.  As I ate, I had a pleasant conversation with Rachel, one of the full-time missionaries.

"There are a lot of new faces here," I told Alan when I got to Loyola Park's gym.  The gym was crowded, which was very unusual for a hot day in July.  Alan pointed to the ring where Gabe, who I hadn't seen in a long time, was working out.  I told Gabe I was coaching at LaFollette.  "About damn time they gave you a coach's job," he smiled.  "I'm happy to hear that!'

A few of the guys sparred, but it was mostly women's day in the gym  Erica sparred with Gabby, then with Kathy.  Melanie wanted to spar with Gabby, but they probably will do that later in the week.

While monitoring a couple of the guys who were sparring, Alan said, "It's harder to be the coach than the fighters!"  I laughed.  "It's mentally exhausting!" he continued.

Boxing To Make A Bad Day End Well

This is a shot of Alan and Anna between rounds.  Anna was sparring with Erica, who is a Golden Gloves winner.

My day started off with yet another visit to probate court to settle my dad's estate.  This time, my oldest half-sister, who has been fighting for control of the estate, actually showed up to court.  She finally voiced what I've always known:  that she can't stand the ground I walk on.  I was subjected to her muttering curses about me under her breath.  I almost slipped up and snapped something back to her, but sometimes, I have to be the better person.  So I didn't talk to her at all.  But I was pissed off about her remarks.

Then I learned that a friend of mine had died in a car crash a few days ago.  We both had been disparaged and put down by the pastor at the church where we both used to be members.  Those two events put a huge shadow over the day, so I had to go down to Loyola Park to clear my head.

John the teacher had a great idea.  He recorded the sparring action on his digital camera, then showed it to the participants so they could see what they needed to work on.  There was a lot of sparring, mostly by the women.  I begged off because my left knee had acted wonky while I was walking to the gym.  Erica, a Golden Glove winner, was dominate in the sparring sessions she took part in.

The other John in the gym had a fight at Garfield Park's boxing show last week, and he won.  John said the other guy was shorter than he, but very quick with his hands.

Sebastian, who I hadn't seen in a long time, stopped in.  It was very good to see him.  He said that he and his brother Gabe are planning to come back to the gym. Just in time, too, given that all the park district boxing shows are going on.

Over the past weekend, I was looking for one-pound weights to buy for LaFollette's boxing gym.  The class participants can use them during shadowboxing.  I didn't have much luck in finding a lot of them, and what I could find seemed a little too pricey.  I will get some, but I'm going to have to search a little more.

The Crying Game

I told Ashley that she wasn't going to spar with her sister Mya again.  Mya is too small, too short, and on top of that, she cries at the drop of a hat.  She appears to be willing to spar on the days that is allowed.  But as soon as the heat is on, Mya freezes up, does not answer punches, and turns on the waterworks.  She acted like that with LaKendrick, as well.

I paraphrased Tom Hanks' character from A League Of Their Own in my thoughts:  "There's no crying in boxing!"  Mya's not the only one guilty of tears.  Little Jordan and Nassir were crying rivers during their boxing matches last week.

No, it doesn't feel good to get punched.  But the kids not only have to focus on giving licks, but they have to learn how to take them, too.  Mya's dad said it best when he told all of the kids in the gym that they can't do street fighting in a boxing match.  "It looked so easy to all y'all until you actually got in the ring," Mya's dad said.

Big Jordan was grumbling instead of listening, mouthing off to his mom, as well as to Mya's dad, who was helping him out.  "It's not going to happen overnight," Mya's dad admonished Jordan.  "There were a lot of days when I was playing sports when I wanted to quit.  But you just have to keep going."  I suspect Big Jordan was still smarting over having been bested by Kishaun the other week.  He's always looking to spar with Kishaun now (who didn't come to the gym today), and some revenge might be behind that.

Everybody wants to fight, but few want to deal with the punishment.  They have got to understand that it is part of boxing.

Another Loyola Monday

It didn't seem that Melinda was believing Alan, but he was being sincere.  Those two sparred again at Loyola Park, with me outside the ring coaching Melinda.  He told her that she really hits hard, and that she could win at Park District boxing shows, and at the Golden Gloves.  Melinda is nervous about taking a fight.

Alan really wants to get fights for Geniece, too, but it's hard all over for women in boxing.  He believes the two of them would do extremely well in bouts.  He told Melinda, "Sometimes, I had to turn down fights for Hillari because the other person was too tall."

I sparred with Annie and Anna.  Annie's just starting out, so I went light.  However, I did force her back into the corners and ropes periodically.  Anna was moving around a lot, so I couldn't get a lot of hits in.  She pushed me down once, and I fell like a tree.  But I wasn't hurt, and the action went on.

Alicia was at the gym, and she looked good due to some more weight loss.  I admire her determination to get her weight down.  I've changed a lot of my eating habits, and I've been exercising more, but it's still a struggle for me.  Sometimes I wonder if I am actually supposed to be chubby, and if so, should I give up trying to tone down.

Lessons From The Boxing Show

1.  Parents can be helpful.  Ashley and Man-Man's dad helped get their wraps on, and he encouraged them during their matches.  Nassir's mom told him to expect to get hurt when someone is throwing punches back.

2.  Parents just don't understand.  I got the feeling that LaKendrick's dad felt that his son was entitled to have a match.  Unfortunately, that didn't happen.  I wanted the boy to have a match, but there was no one available for him.  The boxing shows are a roll of the dice in terms of who will get a fight.  I can't make a match happen out of thin air.

3.  Kids just don't understand.  Johnathan tried to pull a fast one on me by telling me he had a match when he didn't.  I'm hoping that he watched his fellow gym mates during their fights.  Johnathan needs to realize, like a lot of the kids need to do, that street fighting will not help them in a boxing match.  Nor can they try to get a fight when there is none for them to have.

4.  Some kids need to learn a sense of personal responsibility.  Shanita and her brother Julius have been slacking off for weeks.  I made a fight for Julius, only to learn the boy had gone out of town without a word to me.  He knew he had a fight.  Shanita, who had been going on about wanting to be a professional boxer, didn't bother to attend the show, either.  I won't pre-match Julius again.  If he and his sister continue in boxing and want to participate in the shows, they'll just have to show up and hope they can get matches.

5.  Some kids will not step in a ring again.  I had made a fight for Mya, but at the last minute, she opted not to participate.  Honestly, I don't think she wants to box, but her dad wants her to keep attending the gym.  It remains to be seen whether the other kids in the gym -- regardless if they boxed in the show or not -- will have second thoughts about being in the sport.  Now that they have seen what it really is, some minds might be changing.

6.  The boxing show is a great recruiting tool.  Several parents came up to me during and after the show wanting to put their kids in the boxing class.  Both the kids' and teens' class are full for the summer, but I suspect there will be a lot of people looking to sign up in the fall.  Who knows?  I might even have to create a waiting list.

7.  The gym door has to be locked.  I left it open.  Luckily, the equipment was all locked up in the storage room.  I was told later that during the show, kids kept running in and out of the gym, playing around the ring.  A few kids had their skateboards in there.

8.  I have to remember to use the stool and the buckets.  The riggers brought stools to use in the corners.  However, I did not have Ashley, Man-Man, or Nassir sit down in the corner between rounds.  It didn't occur to me to use the stool until Jordan's fight.  I forgot to bring out the spit buckets, too.

The Fourth In The Gym

A few days ago, Nassir's mom asked how often the hand wraps got laundered.  She must have smelled them.  I had been noticing the smell for awhile.  The kids don't seem to care, and to be honest, I never washed my own hand wraps out on a regular basis when I was at Loyola Park.  However, if a parent noticed that, then I needed to take action.  So today (yes, I had to work on the Fourth of July), I took the time to wash the hand wraps.  I hung them up on an old, unused exercise bar in the storage room to dry.

I also got rid of a small trampoline that has no legs.  Every time the kids saw it, they would ask about using it.  Having long been tired of the questions, I decided that it was time for the trampoline to go.

The refrigerator in the storage room was filthy.  Luckily, I was only storing bottles of water in it.  Now that I will occasionally store food in there, it was high time for a cleaning.  It's not spotless, and it could still do with a good scrubbing in some places.  But it is passable enough so that I don't have an icky feeling when I open the door.

Of course, no one showed up for class.  The park was filled with people and barbecue grills.  After doing my chores, I spent the rest of the day listening to my old, rickety radio in the gym, then for the last hour of the day, I helped monitor the front desk.  Leonard, an attendant, and myself had to keep admonishing boys who were coming in the building shirtless, or coming out of the pool area shirtless.  Other people were going in and out to use the washrooms.  The day was slow and quiet.

Fight Night at LaFollette Park

The fighters for LaFollette Park's boxing show arrived early.  It wasn't long before the gym was filled with kids from Scottsdale Park, Ogden Park, Hamlin Park, and Fuller Park.

Shanita and Julius were complete no-shows.  Unfortunately, I expected as much.  When Rick from Scottsdale showed up with the kid whom I had pre-matched with Julius, I called Julius's mom.  Come to find out that her son had gone visiting somewhere and would not return until next week.  I didn't even bother to ask about Shanita after that.  I was embarrassed to tell Rick that his fighter no longer had a match.  But Rick shrugged his shoulders and said, "We'll make do."

I really wanted to get fights for Kishaun and LaKendrick, but there just weren't enough contenders available for either.  Most of the kids had a lot of experience, too much for Kishaun and LaKendrick, both of whom have no fight experience.  But I'm determined to get them fights in the upcoming boxing shows.

Johnathan, one of the new kids, apparently thought that he was just going to bulldoze his way into getting a match.  In everything that I was going on, I momentarily lost track of who actually had fights.  I gave Johnathan a pair of hand wraps to put on, and I helped him wrap his hands.  When I realized that he had no fight, I was irritated with him.  "Boy, why did you put those on?  Don't waste people's time like that!" I snapped.

Coach James, seen here in the above photo, did a nice job being the announcer.

Mya decided at the last minute that she did not want to fight.  "If you don't want to, I'm not going to be mad," I told her, and she bowed out.  Her sister Ashley, and her brother Carmelius were pre-matched, so they were ready to go.  Nassir and Jordan came in later and were able to get fights.

Alan came by with John (not John the teacher), but there were no adults available for matches.  Kenny and Colonel came by, and they told me they wanted to volunteer in the gym.  I would love to have them there.  Some of the people in Loyola Park's adult boxing program also came to watch the fights.

Carmelius went the distance with his opponent, who I believe was one of David Diaz's fighters.  Diaz has some aggressive fighters in his group.  Carmelius did not win.  Every time he ran up to throw a punch, the other kid was laying in wait and had something for him.

Nassir was throwing wild punches during his bout.  I think Nassir's opponent was from Scottsdale Park.  Nassir wears glasses, and I'm not sure if that was because perhaps he couldn't see what was coming back at him.  That fight ended in the first round, when Tommy, who was the referee, saw that Nassir was taking too many punches.  Nassir's mom said to her son, "Why are you crying?  You know that this is boxing, and that people get hit.  Remember we talked about that."

Jordan's fight also ended quickly.  Another first round of throwing wild punches, while the other kid was picking shots and aiming correctly.  Jordan wasn't happy, either.  Next week, it is back to basics for all three boys, because they've got to learn how to control their punches.

Ashley fought a girl named Diana from Ogden Park.  Ashley was moving a bit slow, but her hands were not.  She kept popping Diana while constantly moving forward.  I could see Diana becoming frustrated because she couldn't figure out how to ward off Ashley's onslaught.  Twice, an eight count was called on Diana.  The third time it happened, the fight came to an end, and Ashley got the winner's trophy.  Kenny, Diana's coach, told me, "We want a rematch!"  "You've got it," I smiled.

Here is a shot of Ashley with her winner's trophy and her brother Carmelius (otherwise known as Man-Man) holding his second place trophy.  So Ashley is the first fighter I have trained to a win.  I felt very good about that, but even more so for Ashley who gave a good fight.

Gym Madhouse

I believe John and Katie were sparring when I took this picture of Alan watching the action at Loyola Park.  Alan asked me was I happy at LaFollette Park.  I am.  However, some days are more challenging than others.

Currently, I am helping out in the summer camp for the next few weeks, in addition to me coaching my regular boxing classes.  The theme for the summer camp this year is sports.  Nineteen girls were sent down to the gym for me to coach for an hour.  Things were going fine until the one kid in the group -- and there's always one -- decided to be difficult.

She kept interrupting me with inane questions and comments while I was trying to explain techniques.  She didn't do much in terms of the exercises I had for the class, either.  Luckily, a camp counselor was on hand to cut down on some of the girl's annoying antics.  But not before the little wonder partially tore up one of the bulletin boards I had created in the gym.  I was able to fix the damage before the normal boxing classes begun.

It seemed like every kid who signed up for the 12 years and under class decided to show up.  I was being pulled in all directions.  I only allowed Andre, Jordan, and Kishaun to spar.  Nassir kept bugging me to spar, but Nassir ain't ready for that yet.  Neither are most of the other kids who were pestering me about it.

Jordan deserved credit because he came in early to practice.  His mom told me that Jordan wanted to give up boxing after that beat down he took from Kishaun the other week.  But after I talked to him, Jordan was determined to continue.  He did okay against Andre, but Kishaun caught Jordan with a few low blows.  I was going to pull Jordan out, but he waved me off and finished the round.

Shanita and Julius did their usual showing up way too early for training.  When I told Julius he had a fight in the boxing show, I got a blank look and silence.  There was yet another promise made to return at the correct time, but the siblings were no-shows once again.  I don't know what to do about those two, but I do know I can't keep worrying with them.

I didn't allow some other kids to spar because they had either lost their mouthpieces or left them at home.  Ashley gave me a blank look when I admonished her about not having her mouthpiece.  "I want to spar my sister," she whined, but her sister didn't have her mouthpiece, either.  "From now on, no one spars unless they have their mouthpiece.  Do not leave it someplace else.  Do not lose it; I will not give you another one," I announced.  I have plenty of mouthpieces in the back, but like my mother used to tell me when I was a kid, "keep up with your things!"

BJ and Tandi were the only two in the teenage class.  I sparred with BJ.  He got me a few times, but I kept coming over his jab with my right and getting some face shots in.  When his father, Ben, came in the adult class, he was happy that his son had gotten in some work.

Ben and his sister Alex got in a good workout.  We're going to work on speed the next time.  I really wish I had a stand to hang the double-end bag on because it would be good to have them practice on that.  We can do burn-outs, which will help.  Also, I have some punch mitts drills to practice hand speed.

I was dead tired when I left the gym.  But like David Letterman used to say, "It was a good kind of tired."

Communication Issues

It just occurred to me that I need to put masking tape on the back of my coach's jacket to cover up "Loyola Park".  I need to write "LaFollette Park" on the tape before I can wear it to the boxing show coming up this week.

I also failed to put out a flyer about the boxing show.  It totally slipped my mind to do that.  The park supervisor and I will work on putting one out this week.  I really want a banner hung up outside the field house, but it's too late to produce one.

A new girl, Tandi, came in yesterday.  She's tall and lanky.  I thought she was going to say she was 15 or 16, but she's only thirteen.  Her punches are nice, and she appears to have picked up most of the techniques well.  She was the only person who showed up to the teen class.  Tandi doesn't want to spar or compete, which is unusual, because a majority of the kids, as opposed to the adults, want to fight.  I'm hoping she'll change her mind down the line.

Shanita, Julius, Lupe, BJ, as well as the other teens continue to be no-shows.  The teen class is the weakest link among the three classes I coach.  The slacker attitudes of the teenagers irritate me, despite my efforts in trying not to allow their behavior to bother me.  The excuses that Shanita and Julius keep giving me for not being present in particular, are wearing thin.  I dread seeing how this is going to play out during the boxing show later this week, especially since I've already set up a fight for Julius.

Parents keep showing up, now the class has been going on for two weeks already, attempting to sign up their grade school age kids for the gym.  Everyone's disappointed when they hear the class is full.  I keep wondering why, with all the printed information out there, as well as the information online, that the parents weren't aware the class had already started.  One parent whose kid is actually on the attendance list, just now started bringing their kid in.  "I thought the class began in July," they told me.  We had a lengthy talk several weeks before where I gave them a flyer and went over the dates of the class.  I don't get it.

Another parent was dismayed to discover that boxing happens at the same time another activity their kid participates in does.  I don't get that, either.  There seems to be a great disconnect regarding time management when it comes to planning what kids are going to do and when.

In addition to that, some parents have told me they are being told incorrect information about the boxing program when they call the field house.  Several parents had been given the wrong time for the start of the class.  Another parent told me they were told the class only meets one day a week.  There have been a few times that parents were told I wasn't in the building when I was.  I used to work for a suburban recreation department, and those sort of things did not fly with any of the parents.  The complaints wouldn't end with an irate phone call.  Parents would stomp down to the office, and if they still felt they hadn't received proper customer service, letters and emails would go flying to management as well as to the local politicians.  I haven't said anything as of yet about the miscommunication that has been given out as of yet.  But I do know that parents who are diligent about coordinating their kids' schedules do not appreciate not having correct information.  The last thing any of the staff needs are parents raising sand because of that.

Sparring and Making Matches

I was glad to hear from Rick at Scottsdale Park that Julius has a fight for the July 2nd boxing show.  Julius is the fourth kid for whom I've been able to get matched up.  But Julius hasn't been in the gym for days.  His sister Shanita came in for the teens' class (she was the only one who showed up for that), and I told her to let her brother know that he has to come in and train.

Things got wild in the class for the kids 12 years and younger during sparring.  Jordan was ready to mix it up, and I was glad that Kishaun came in.  A couple of days ago, I put Jordan with LaKendrick, and things didn't go so well.  LaKendrick is small, and Jordan overwhelmed him.  I figured Kishaun would be a better match.  Jordan came out of his corner throwing hard punches and so did Kishaun.

I told both of them to slow it down and take it easy.  But Jordan doesn't know how to pull his punches.  Kishaun got hit with a hard left, and it was on.  Every time Jordan dropped his hands, Kishaun got his fist in Jordan's face.  It wasn't long before Jordan's face was flushed and his eyes were red.  "Do you want to continue?" I asked.  Jordan shook his head no.  I made a mental note to run some drills with Jordan to teach him to keep his hands up.

Mya faced off with LaKendrick.  I thought it would be a good matchup because both of them are the same age, and approximately the same height and weight.  LaKendrick was moving all over the ring, only stopping to tag Mya.  Mya was not protecting her face properly, nor was she moving much.  While I was giving out directions to both, their respective dads were also giving them advice.

LaKendrick popped Mya once too often, and she started crying.  I was about to stop it then, but Mya's dad pushed her to continue on.  The little girl kept crying and just stopped throwing punches after awhile.  LaKendrick never let up.  "She doesn't want to fight anymore," I said, and I called the girl out of the ring. LaKendrick tried to give her a fist bump afterwards, but Mya just glared at the boy.

Ashley had a better time fending off LaKendrick, basically because she's taller than he.  I advised LaKendrick to go for Ashley's middle instead of always swinging for her head.

Later, in the adult class, Ben sparred with his sister, Alex.  Ben had sparred with his wife, Mel, the other day, and just like with her, he didn't want to hit his sister hard.  Alex threw some haymakers here and there, but she got her brother in the chin and in the mid-section with some well-placed hits.

Marty, the coach at Simons Park, left a message for me, but I wasn't able to return it due to the activity going on in the gym.  I'll catch up with him tomorrow; perhaps he has some good news regarding having matches for some of the other kids and teens.

Summer at Loyola Park

In the photo above, Alan watches two guys -- both named John -- spar.

I went up to Loyola Park to a) let Alan know what happened during a recent boxing coaches' meeting, and b) to get a workout in.  Almost everyone in the gym was new except for John, Geniece, Melinda, and Igor.  The place was full.

Here's a trick for those who tend to gag on mouthpieces like I sometimes do:  put a little salt on the tip of the tongue before putting the mouthpiece in.  It worked for me.  I went in with Erica, who hopped up and down in her corner before the three rounds we had together.  Alan told her, "Take it easy because Hillari is old."  I laughed, then Alan said, "Now isn't that the pot calling the kettle black! I have my nerve talking about who's old, and I just had a birthday yesterday!" My knees weren't cooperating as usual, so I took a lot of hits.  Erica was dashing in, getting her licks in, and quickly dashing out.

I thought she looked familiar.  She reminded me that we had sparred a few years ago.  Colonel and Kenny had invited her down to the gym.  Erica had fought in the Golden Gloves around that time.  Here's the photo of us after our sparring session back then:

Erica's very good.  I overheard her giving some solid advice to other women in the gym.  She told me that she used to box at Evanston Boxing Club, and she was planning to enter more competitions.

Melinda and Geniece sparred, and I was very glad I didn't have to get into the ring with either of them.  My old bones barely stood up to Erica.  They wouldn't have lasted against Melinda and Geniece.  Melinda also sparred with Alan, and she caught him with a rough body shot.  Afterwards, Alan said, "I am impressed with how hard she hits.  She hits like a guy!"

I made a general announcement inviting the adults in the gym to come to the boxing show at LaFollette Park next week if they want to get a match.  Alan asked me if I was nervous about the show.  Yeah, I am a little bit, but more so for the youths who plan to participate than for me.  I have to impress upon the youths that they must work hard this week if they want to do well.

No Avalanche On The West Side

It looked as if Jordan, a new boy who signed up for the gym, was going to be the only participant in the eight-to-twelve year olds class yesterday.  His mom, a pleasant sort, sat next to the equipment table, watching as I worked with her son.  Then Man-Man, Mya, and Ashley came in -- 45 minutes late.  "I thought the class started a half-hour later", their dad said.  I had told him several time previously that the hour for the youth class was going to change.  They only have an hour now.  Honestly, that is all the time the younger kids need.

Another parent showed up with their eight year old, wanting to sign them up.  "The class is full," I informed them.  Not all of the 16 kids who are currently in the class showed up yesterday.  I was a bit relieved that I had no avalanche to deal with.  But there was no way I was going to add a 17th kid.  The parent was disappointed, but they should not have assumed there was going to be room available on the day a class begins.

Ben Jr. and Lupe showed up for the teen class that followed, Shanita came in over an hour later.  Julius wasn't with her.  Shanita said she stayed after school for yet another extracurricular activity.  Basically, she came to the gym to tell me she wasn't going to be there until the next day.

The adult class was very chill.  I showed them the basics, and then they took their workout in their own hands.  They agreed when I told them they can craft their own workout for their fitness purposes.  As of now, none of the adults are interested in competing.  I got a laugh when I asked if they wanted to step on the scale (I borrowed one from Coach James), especially from the women.  "You don't have to," I laughed.

Summer's Coming With Issues

This a photo featuring Gabe and one of Josh's sons in the forefront from my days at Loyola Park.

This week, the summer session begins at LaFollette's boxing gym.  I have sixteen -- count 'em -- sixteen kids in the 12 years old and under class.  The class is only set up for ten kids, but since summer is coming soon and school will be out, I figured I would let a few more kids in.  I may regret that decision over the next ten weeks.

But then, I might not.  The usual pattern is kids sign up for the class, attend a few times, then attend infrequently or drop out completely.  I told one parent their three kids could start the class early (last week was the break period between sessions).  They showed up one day, and half-paid attention to what was going on, despite their parent admonishing them to listen.  The next day, the kids were no-shows.  I expect half of the class will disappear, not only because they maybe are signed up for multiple activities, but simply because the weather is nice.  Few want to be in a hot gym during warm weather.

The teen summer class currently has eight participants.  Shanita and Julius are returning, but they have already told me they may be late most days due to the teen class now starting an hour earlier.  I keep reminding them there's not much more time left to train for the July 2nd boxing show.  I worked with Julius a little more last week because I'm more worried about how he will do in a match as opposed to his sister.

The adult class, which is new, has five adults registered.  The sister of a man who is already signed up came in to register.  She looked relieved when I told her that I will not force anyone to spar.  I'm thinking that the adult class will probably be the easiest to run, because the adults will probably not be stuck on doing sparring only, and the adults will not be as fickle as the kids can be.

The Summer Fifteen

This photo of my nieces (my late younger sister's daughters) is from a couple of years ago when they visited me at Loyola Park.  Today is Jalissa's birthday; she's the one on the left.  Her sister Erica is on the right.

A guy came to LaFollette's boxing gym yesterday with his quiet, nine year old son.  The 12 year old and under class is full, but since the the dad was so sincere about wanting his son to take boxing, I took his son in.  The dad is also willing to be a volunteer in the gym.  But then he added, "I have two other kids who really are interested in doing this, too."  Now I have a whopping 15 -- count 'em -- 15 kids in that class.

I had planned to take on some extra kids anyway because of summer.  But I have to shut the door on any more participants for my own sanity.  It is likely that not all of them will keep showing up on a regular basis after the first week or so.  Having five extra kids in the class is somewhat like insurance padding for the ones whom will drop out.  It's an experiment that I'm only going to do for this upcoming session.  I'm not going to add extra participants in any of the youth classes for the fall, winter, and spring sessions.

The routine for that class is going to have to be adjusted because the younger kids only have an hour to train from here on in.  The shorter time will likely work better because I can really have the kids focus on one or two skills each class meeting.  The hour does not allow for any playing around, however.  Kids who don't focus will find the class time is over before having learned much.

Time keeps slipping away as the July boxing show approaches.  Shanita and Julius did not show up to the gym yesterday, and neither did Kishaun.  There's only about two weeks and a half available for training before the show.  Kishaun's dad used to box, so I'm hoping there's some training going on at home.  Shanita plays basketball, but that's not boxing, and Julius is probably not doing any exercise at all.

I'll be working extra hours when the summer session begins.  I wish the extra hours involved boxing.  Extra hands are needed to help with the summer camp activities.  Summer camp is yet another situation where how well it goes depends on the attitudes of the kids involved.

Something To Think About Regarding Youths' Sports Dreams

I saw this elsewhere on the Internet.  A high school teacher wrote an open letter to professional basketball player Stephen Curry.  I place it here to give parents of wanna-be athletes and amateur sports coaches something to think about. .  .

Dear Steph,

I am a Dubs fan. Always have been, always will be. I pass by Oracle Arena every day to and from work. Traffic is so bad on 880 I often get to admire, at length, the giant hanging posters adorned with your face and the gaudy playoff decorations in blue and gold. Those also happen to be the school colors of the high school nearby where I teach. I have a Baron Davis jersey from We Believe, I grew up watching Run TMC. I giggled each and every time Manute Bol drained a three. When I was a wee lad one of my favorite things to say over and over was Sarunas Marciulionis. I am a Bay Area native, and the Warriors are my team.

And I love you. You would be my favorite player except for I have a soft spot for emotionally unstable crazies, and so I really love me some Draymond Green. But you are amazing and I also give you credit for being an amazing person off the court as well.

But I have to ask you to do me a solid and make sure you don’t ever come visit my high school.

I know the NBA does great things in the community, and I realize the Warriors are no exception. Your boy Klay Thompson is a finalist for the NBA Cares Community Assist Award for having such an impact in and around Oakland this year. The NBA Cares campaign continually shows the league is committed to getting out in the community and helping those in need. When you get involved in soup kitchens, wrap Christmas presents for needy kids, and build homes for the homeless I am inspired. But where those kinds of civic-minded activities have clear benefits, I have to tell you something you probably haven’t heard: Coming to poor high schools like mine isn’t going to help any of these kids out, in fact, it might make things worse.

You see, Steph (I hope you don’t mind if I call you Steph), if you come to my school you will be your usual inspiring, humble, hilarious, kind self and you will say all the right things. But the reason I don’t want you to come has to do with what you won’t say.

You won’t say that since the day you were born you had a professional one-on-one tutor who helped you hone your skills on a daily basis. Your father Dell Curry was an NBA great just like you are after him, but you will not remind the poor kids at my school that they have never had such a wonderful instructor and they never will.

And if you do ever visit my school, you also won’t mention that along with your father’s success came all the monetary rewards NONE of my students have, like three square meals a day; a full sized court and hoop in the backyard; a sense of safety; a mother and a father; top schools, top peers, and community resources. I know you might not think of it like this, but you might as well have come from another planet. But you won’t say that, will you?

I mean, look at Klay Thompson. I wonder if anyone else finds it odd that the best shooting back-court in NBA history were both born with silver balls.

You also won’t talk about the fact that you are a giant man and taller than almost all of my students will ever be. Even though on the court you look like Peter Dinklage in high tops, when you are around real people you are very, very tall. Six-foot-three is nothing to laugh at, and if you did walk into my classroom, you might hit your head on the doorframe. You won the genetic lottery in addition to the monetary one, but you probably won’t be reminding my students that their size alone has already kept them out of competing in most American professional sports.

What you will do is shoot some threes, dazzle everyone with your dimples, high five the homies, and sign some autographs. It will be wonderful. At least, it will seem like that at first. But what you won’t see is the fact that most of these kids don’t have a backup plan for their dream of being you. If you ask the boys on my campus what they are going to be when they get older, the answer will involve a sport. They will claim they are going to play in the NBA or NFL, and seeing you there will make them think they can actually do it.

Because the worst thing you won’t tell them Steph, is that they can’t do it. You won’t tell them that will you? You won’t be able to bring yourself to tell them it is already too late. You won’t tell them about all those years when you were playing in top competitive leagues as a child. You won’t tell them that if they haven’t played organized basketball by the age of sixteen (twelve, really), they have no chance of going pro. You see, the kids I am talking about do not play year-round, they are not in a travelling league, and they have never even heard of a McDonald’s All-American; they just eat McDonald’s two meals a day and have Hot Cheetos in between.

Because by the time they are sixteen, boys in this country, if they have even a tiny, tiny chance of going pro, should already be on the radar of colleges and scouts. They should be the best player not just at their school but in their entire city. Probably their entire state. They should already be 6’3” and growing. You know this and I know this, but the kids who you will inspire with your presence will simply see you and think they too will be MVP one day, even though they don’t even play for our high school team. So instead of doing homework the night after your visit, they will grab their lopsided old ball and go play on the court with their little brother and shoot the ball badly, improbably thinking every time the ball actually does go in it means they are on their way to fame and fortune.

You see Steph, once you leave my school, the boys here are not going to run home and finish that essay, which is one thing they could do about their future that is in their control. Just like if Beyonce came here, the girls wouldn’t head back to their one bedroom apartments filled with two families and begin their science labs. When Beyonce tells them to make sure they pass Algebra, they look at her and ask “What for? Did Algebra help your voice?” Instead they will go home and look in the mirror and wish they were tanner and thicker and a better singer and dancer and they will cry into their mascara. Because that is what celebrity worship does, Steph, and we need these kids to do less of it rather than more. They are already very good at dreaming about being rich and famous, what we need them to do is get a little more realistic about what is in their control. We need less of an emphasis on sports and celebrity in high school, because it is hurting these kids too much as it is.

Really the more I think about it, the crazier it sounds to write to you and tell you NOT to come to my high school. I mean, you are such an awesome guy, you are a family man with a wife and daughter, with another on the way. That video your wife made is hella funny. You are humble, a leader, and clearly our young men need to meet a man like you. Maybe I’m wrong to write this letter.

Or maybe not. When I tell my students they are not going to be professional athletes, they like to say, “Won’t you feel stupid if one of your students does go pro?” And my answer is always the same: “No, because even if they do, that means I will still be 99.9% right. Right now I am one thousand for one thousand.” Steph, you and I know they have a better chance of winning the lottery, but no one seems to tell them these things but me. Would this letter make you feel better if I told you I discourage the California Lottery from giving inspirational speeches at my high school as well? If I wrote them a letter, would anyone think I was out of line? Probably not.

At risk of making Dub Nation mad at me, because I know how we can get, I don’t want you to think it has anything to do with you personally, or the team (I will be screaming every time you hit a three all throughout the playoffs). It’s me, not you. I mean, you are the man, and I am just a teacher–no one really. The truth is, every person on earth would probably get something out of meeting you in person. For you symbolize everything people in this country value most, you are the epitome of all we hold dear, you are the pinnacle of humanity: You are good at a sport."

Anticipating Issues

This is a photo from when I was still at Loyola.  I was showing off my big legs for some reason; I can't remember why now.  I have yet to wear shorts down at LaFollette.  It would be appropriate now that the weather is warmer.  But then I'm still old school enough to think maybe I shouldn't be wearing shorts to work.

There's a meeting of the boxing coaches coming up soon about the upcoming Chicago Park District boxing shows.  During a previous meeting of the coaches, it was said that coaches are responsible for making sure their fighters act appropriately during the shows.  It's not the fighters I'm worried about so much.  So far, it looks as if I can only rely on Shanita, Julius, and Kishaun to actually participate in the show this July.  It's the youths who used to be in the boxing program and the ones who never were in the program whom I have to watch.

I am certain that those who are not currently signed up for the gym are going to ask if they can get a fight.  Terrance and Jermaine are the two most likely to do that.  Putting some kid in a boxing show who hasn't been training and thinks their street fighting skills are enough is a no go.  The situation would be very unfair to the kids who actually bothered to show up regularly to train.  I already know there will be a debate on that, and I'll probably have to yell to get my point across.

A few months ago, Terrianna and Te'Ria, neither of whom have an interest in boxing, were bugging me about working the corners during the matches.  Uh, no, since neither one of them stayed in the gym long enough to learn anything.  I'll choose among Kishaun, Shanita, Julius, or one of the other kids who've signed up for the summer classes to help me do that.  If Terrianna and Te'Ria keep whining and getting in the way on the day of the show, which I am anticipating, I'll put those two on the glove table to keep them away from the ring -- and me.

I'm surrounded by adults around the park who don't seem to get what boxing is about. I keep being asked if the kids at the gym will fight each other during the show.  It's been explained several times that kids from all the parks that have boxing programs compete against kids from other parks.  The other day, I was asked if the kids were going to hit each other for real during the matches.  No, the kids are going to stand in the middle of the ring and play patty cakes, I thought to myself.

Some kids are going to get their feelings hurt on the day of the show, mainly because of the annoying attitude of "I want to have my way at all times."  Those who have been doing a half-job of training will whine and complain when the outcome of a match doesn't come out in their favor.  Others will stamp their feet because I'll refuse to allow distractions and disruptions to interfere with the boxing show. Some adults will put their unwanted and erroneous two cents in, and I'll have to remind them that I'm the boss.  It will be interesting how things play out.

Taking A Punch From A Sister

Once again, only Shanita and Julius showed up for class.  They were late again, too, but I decided to stop grumbling about that.  Shanita does get out of school earlier, but she sticks around to participate in activities there.  Not much I can do about that.  However, I reminded both of them that they now only have one month to get it together for the upcoming boxing show.

After a brief warm up and some shadow boxing, the teens were ready to spar.  I've been trying my best to break Julius out of the habit of always backing up into the corners.  Shanita takes advantage of that each time, while her brother curls up and takes the shots.

Both Shanita and Julius need to do more footwork drills as well.  Shanita ducks and dodges punches, but she does some odd movements to do so.  More than once she has asked me if she could do some moves like leaping into throwing punches.  My standard answer to such questions is usually, "The referee will give a warning."  At least she's not trying to do WWE or UFC moves unlike most of the younger kids.

Julius has a habit of crossing his feet while moving around the ring.  I pointed it out to him.  A second later, Shanita caught him with a right, and Julius stumbled and crashed to the canvas.  It took several moments for Shanita and I to figure out if Julius was badly hurt, if Julius was bleeding, and to get him to get up off of the canvas.  When he finally moved, Julius decided to sit the time out rather than participate in floor exercises with Shanita.

It appeared that Shanita felt bad about knocking her brother down.  After checking again to make sure her brother wasn't seriously hurt, I concluded that Julius' pride was hurt more.  The teens left the gym early after that.  I hope the incident doesn't cause Julius not to continue on with boxing.