a totalwaste christmas story

it all started a few weeks ago with the beast's backfist. concerned that i had suffered a concussion, i cancelled a sparring session with one of the guys who's training for a fight in january.

after waiting a couple of weeks so as not to compound the injury, i was going to resume sparring but i kept getting injured in different ways. two weeks ago the coach began making fun of me. in the meanwhile, badger and the jolly moroccan worked with me to improve my game, drilling me on all the basics.

as it's my last weekend, i really wanted to make as much use of the facilities as possible. yesterday i went in and met another boxing coach, an old-school 71 year-old rocky-style instructor and after we got to talking he took a shine to me: he gave me some really interesting advice and then cornered me through a sparring session with the kid who always hits too hard. and i did much better than the last time!

after snowboarding today i went to the gym for a final hour. the guy i'd originally stood up was on duty, and he and a few others were preparing to train late with our regular (abusive) coach. after some bag work (hurt my wrist a little, didn't tell anyone) and some shadowboxing to practice yesterday's coach's advice, i waited to spar. eventually i gave up, misunderstanding the coach and thinking that he didn't want me sparring so i took off my wraps and prepared to watch a bit before going home.

but he did want me to spar! so i got warmed up again, bouncing, shadowboxing and popping my shoulders in time to the awesome old-school hip-hop that was playing while observing the first pair sparring. then it was our turn, me and the guy i'd stood up. we put vaseline on our faces (i've now finally had that explained to me), geared up and got in the ring.

first round: it took me half the round to realize that i was facing a southpaw and that the reason he kept cracking me with his left was because i was stepping into it. so much for strategy! as soon as i fixed that everything changed.

i went three rounds with the guy. i demonstrated ring control, and when he did corner me i gave him nothing. i listened to what the coach was saying - to both of us - and adjusted accordingly. i didn't back up, i didn't let up, even though by the third round i could barely lift my arms; i actually spent a large percentage of the time making contact with his head and gut, surprising him with my new-found ability to close distance while striking and finally using jabs and straights defensively. as tired as i was, during the intervals i kept moving in time with the music, which was good for my breathing and my spirit. by the end of the third round, i wasn't the one with the bloodied nose and feeling disorientated.

i don't feel good about those last two, because i really like the guy. but afterwards we spent five minutes together analyzing everything and advising each other, and i think i've helped him with his fight preparation.

but here's the thing: the coach. the coach was stunned. he had the biggest smile on his face, and his pride filled me with pride.

"i take back everything i said about you, man. you proved me wrong tonight."
he repeated that a few times. and each time, it felt like christmas.