Thursday, October 28, 2010

I Won a Fight and All I Got Was This Bloated, Belated Blog Post

So let's get this out of the way: on Sunday, 10/3, Jonathan Moreland defeated Ryan Madden by a unanimous decision in front of TV cameras and a packed Allston gym for part two of NESN's "Boston vs. the World" series.

Now while most anyone reading this already heard the results from me weeks ago, I wanted to wait to blog about it until I could upload the telecast. But this week I learned that the tape delay is not going to air until November and so now I'm awkwardly fumbling to tie together the play-by-play from some piecemeal, fading memories. After all, even immediately after the fight it's a bit tough to give a detailed, first-hand account when you're the one actually in the squared circle.

So until I come through with "Plan A" and am able to post the fight, I'm left just with some high-level musings - perhaps the most important being that this was one of the most "natural" feeling fights I've ever had.

With weigh-ins at 2 p.m. and fights starting at 4, I was left with the awkward task of waking up and killing a few hours around my apartment, all the while wearing three layers of sweats, not expending any energy (especially no nervous energy) and not eating or drinking anything. Fortunately, my years of boxing have made these periods of time routine and almost Zen-like: slipping on my "fight night" long underwear, sweats and hoodie; neatly packing my banana, Powerbar and ziplock baggie of wheat pasta for after the weigh-in; taking some ibuprofen and stretching out; syncing my iPod and spacing out to a mellow playlist; and, most importantly, pre-determining where I'll have my "fat kid" meal after the fight.

I took a bus to the venue and waited to weigh in. Same-day weigh-ins are always a little spooky - the empty building waiting for the crowd to trickle in, silent speakers and random organizers scrambling to make last arrangements before the doors open...and you just sitting there, wearing too many layers and unable to really do anything but try to relax until you step on the scale.

I weighed in at 155, which, frankly, was annoying. Not only did I not need to cut weight the night before/day of (at all - in the slightest) but if I put in a little time at the sauna 24 hours earlier, I could have easily made 152. But hindsight's 50/50 and I felt 100% strong and fresh on the scales, so there was no apprehension as I idled in the locker room, had my hands wrapped and warmed up.

Since my gym (Boston Boxing) was hosting the event, my trainer was more than preoccupied. I had a trainer from a gym we're close with (the good folks at Nonantum Boxing) wrap my hands, and one of our assistant trainers held pads and helped warm me up. Frankly, the way the past months have gone, I wasn't thrown off by the different faces involved in my pre-fight routine.

As mentioned earlier, the fight itself was a bit of a blur. Given that my opponent had a few inches height advantage on me and trained with a gym that produces very, very technically skilled fighters, I expected a healthy dose of jabs and straight punches, and didn't think he'd forfeit the center of the ring without a fight.

Not only was I expecting this, but given my style, I was hoping for it. And sure enough, it's exactly what I got.

The opening minute of the bout looked like more of a catch drill than a traditional feeling-out period. Both of us wanted to control the center of the ring, but both of us also wanted to establish our jabs. Rather than always "getting off first," I found myself with the opportunity to "always finish last," whether it be simply doubling up my jab, throwing 3-2-3's after parrying, or simply stepping in behind a jab, shortening my arms and flurrying. By the end of the round, I knew that so long as I stayed tight and didn't get sloppy, I'd be able to fight my fight and better control the bout.

I made Round 2 much more of a fight - not a brawl, mind you, but I came out of my corner far more aggressive and threw"with bad intentions" more then the first round. I was able to control the center of the ring as well as the pace of the fight, keeping my distance with jabs but hiding behind a healthy dose of lead 2's (many landing) and using them to setup step-overs and flurries. With a tight guard and some strategic tie-ups (and maybe, just maybe a wee bit of holding) on my part, these flurries stayed one-sided, as I kept my opponent frustrated and unable to exchange.

The third round is where things get fuzzy - not because my memory is fuzzy, but because it was an almost surreal, out-of-body experience. I was in my element, slipping, moving and flurrying in a round that was equal parts Hopkins and Hagler. It was natural and pure to the point that - in retrospect - it was seemingly effortless. As I began to time my opponent, everything else fell into place. I threw first, landed last, tied him up and kept him off balance with different steps and combinations. Even when I caught myself leaning in or bending too much at the waist, I'd keep my base sound and throw punches from these different angles, turning my movements into a beautifully awkward yet somehow coordinated offensive.

Some people call it the fastest three minutes in sports. Well that day, it was the fastest and most relaxed, the most natural and automatic and strangely efficient round I can remember putting together. And yes I feel comfortable saying this in the face of me not remembering details and really only being able to say with certainty that "I went out there and boxed well." Which I guess is also the best and most telling part of it all...

After the final bell rang, I embraced my opponent and shook hands with his corner multiple times. Within a few minutes, I was back in the center of the ring with my arm raised, nodding with pride as a sheepish grin spread and I continued to wonder where the last 9 minutes of boxing came from.

While the details of the fight seem to have instantaneously blurred into a muddled, boxing euphoria, the experience still provided some major learnings. Namely: Always fight within myself. Trust my experience and listen to what my body (during training) and mind (in the ring) are telling me. Box first, brawl second - but don't be afraid to change it up with both.

And, most importantly, when my corner hollers to let my hands go, let my body go with them. I'm a boxer, and once I'm not thinking about or doing anything else, good things can happen.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Limping Into a Fire Drill

I had a post drafted earlier this week that - between the time I finished it and left for the gym and came back to proof and publish it - became completely obsolete.

On the tail end of a grueling workout late Tuesday night, I was informed by a sparring partner that I'd be fighting on the re-scheduled Boston vs. The World card this Sunday. While at face value it's no big deal for an amateur boxer to fight on a few days notice, this came as considerable shock to me, namely because:
  • I haven't had a sanctioned bout in 9 months and figured I'd have a set, upcoming date to work towards to officially return to competition
  • I've been alternating between "good" and "bad" weeks the past month, getting erratic sparring while fighting a few nagging injuries and the urge to overtrain
  • I have no shot at making 152 lbs. come weigh-in
  • The fight will be tape delayed on NESN, so it's not exactly an under-the-radar event to be thrown onto
So despite the frustrations and aches and's go time. Time to dig deep, take everything I've got, and bring it all in the ring for 3 rounds.

And, after a quick audit, it seems like things might be falling into place more than my physical state earlier this week led me to believe:
  • I haven't fought in 9 months, but I've been training again for more than 3 and am more than ready to jump back in feet-first (with everything going on in and out of the gym, when will things be "perfect" and ready?)
  • I'm in the midst of a "great" week, with about 15 rounds of sparring and confidence-building results to ride into my pre-fight recovery mode
  • I'm fighting at a catch weight of 160, which isn't far from what I'm walking around at
  • The fights on NESN. And who doesn't want to be recognized for the months of hard work and sweat equity they've put in at the gym?
So while I'm definitely far from a 100% peak, I'm confident I'm ready to dive into the competitive scene again and am treating this like a pretty significant measuring-stick bout.

But in a way, this is indeed a bit risky since my record's permanent and I'm a not able to be my methodical, uber-prepared self weeks before this fight. Additionally, I'm expecting this 160-lber in the other corner to be significantly bigger than me since I've never fought anywhere near this heavy before.

But life is short and I feel good heading into a few days of rest before fight night. So long as I fight smart and draw from the foundations I have - both the physical base I've begun to reestablish, as well as my years of experience - there is no reason I can't win this fight. As a come-forward-and-pressure fighter, my heart has always been my biggest asset and allowed me to overcome most all shortcomings on the spot - whether that be digging deep for one of my trademark flurries the last 30-seconds or outhustling and outworking a technically superior opponent from bell to bell.

And armed with that, I know Sunday's results will be no different.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Cross-Country Detour

I always use metaphors (cliches?) comparing my boxing success to an obstacle-filled road - usually along the lines of "hitting the comeback trail," "the rise to the top," and "climbing the plateau to reach the peak." Well, last week the comparisons materialized, as I traveled to NYC to help my brother load a 14-foot U-Haul with all his belongings and drive across the country to move into his new apartment in Seattle.

While this cross-continent move was an absolutely awesome experience, it didn't bode well for my training. Sure, cross-training was squeezed into the week; I banged out sit-ups and push-ups at every pit stop (yes, seriously), ran on some scenic Washington trails and lifted at my brother's gym. I even got in two Juan Manuel Marquez-esque workouts loading and unloading the truck. (Remember him throwing rocks up and down the mountain before fighting Mayweather? Yeah, it was like that, just with furniture and boxes instead....and minus the whole pee drinking thing.)

But improvisation's not the name of this game. I don't need to move up a weight class or plateau or taper to stay fresh before a bout. I need to get my weight down, work in rounds upon rounds of sparring, and maintain an "aggressive consistency" to adequately prepare for a few high-profile sanctioned bouts next month that will kick off the "busy season."

Now this pace and progress had been happening. And while some may scoff and say missing 7 days of boxing is neglible, well, all I can say is that it's a lifetime for me given the stage I'm at...especially considering that the detour happened in the midst of some fairly substantial happenings, including:
  • Quality sparring, including multiple sessions with a former 112 lb. Puerto Rican national champ, as well as a perennial top-5 U.S. 140 lber
  • Extremely positive feedback from said sparring, ranging from my trainer nudging me that "you look great, you just need to tighten and sharpen that final bit over time," to overmatched gymmates weezing "you don't seem out of all" and "you throw more punches than anyone I've ever moved around with. Ever."
  • Legitimately feeling quicker, stronger and just better with every workout
Something had clicked while I was out this winter and into the first few months of training. Whether a mental block was cleared, or I finally was given the needed time and breath to better digest my in-ring knowledge, or it was nothing other than divine intervention from the Church of Marvelous Marvin Hagler, something just "clicked" and I'm a smoother, smarter, natural boxer. My guard's tighter, my base is lower, I kick my rights out sharper when I return my hand to my chin, I stay in the slot better without falling forward - I just have a new, long list of tangible proof and applications of my years and years of boxing experience.

While this newfound mojo has been making my transition back easier, it's also made it all the more heartbreaking that I still am struggling to balance and manage all of my outside-the-ring obligations.

In the end though, these are just challenges that - like all the others - shall pass and be overcome. I'm hungry, feel good and have far more aspects of my game hitting on all cylinders than I do items on my "to-do" list...which is primarily just my weight. (But seriously. I can't - for the life of me - get back to my fighting weight right now. Is it like a watched pot of boiling water?)

From one road to another, I'm on my way. The path might continue to have twists and turns and be bumpy along the way, but so long as I keep on keepin' on, I know there are big things ahead again.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Wandering Aimlessly Down the Comeback Trail

The past few weeks have been an aimless, meandering journey that may or may not be getting me where I need to be. I’m definitely cranking up the intensity and regularity of workouts (especially "doubling up" with an a.m. run plus a p.m. gym workout) but feel like something’s missing. This “something” is probably just momentum. I can't help but feel like I'm laboring through workouts a little more than when I was peaked right before I had my surgery. Maybe it's just needing to build confidence? Regain some in-ring comfort? Or, maybe I just need to whip up a larger batch of my special sauce: swagger.

I definitely could use a touch more of all these. But regardless of what "it" actually is, hopefully I’m not going to be stuck spinning tires until this X factor changes - because when it does, I’m ready to get some traction and peel out in a dust cloud of kick-ass.

My biggest problem being patient with this “work hard and it will click” approach is that it requires a bit of faith that “the process” is working. I have no problem trucking along, but it’s unsettling to go through the motions, make progress in baby steps, and just continue assuming that one morning I’ll glove up and things will be the way they were pre-op - with my feet having that rhythmic bounce, my jab that stinging crispness, that right landing with that clobbering thump that made eyes spin.

But alas, onwards I trudge, trusting that persistence (and about 100 rounds of sparring) will be the glue that makes my body, mind and routine harmoniously “click.”

As I continue to try to hit my proverbial groove, it’s becoming clear that I’m going to have a pretty tangible, conventional set of challenges to overcome. And, because I’m self-conscious about my tone on here, I want to clarify that these are challenges, not complaints. Challenges are encountered but ultimately overcome…but they’re hindrances nonetheless, and until they’re addressed, patience is tried and progress can’t be made.
  • Logistics - My old office was a 10-minute walk from my boxing gym, but now my work-to-gym commute is about 45 minutes. This adds strain schlepping my gear around in crappy weather, makes it more likely I'll just go home first and then run/lift/crosstrain rather than embark on another round-trip commute, and even sometimes interferes with my sleep cycle due to bumping my whole night back an hour or two from running around the greater Boston area. Hey, lost time adds up over the months...
  • Summer - Summer is my busy season. From a baseball league I play in once/week to traveling to remembering the "play" aspect of a work/train/play balance, there seems to always be a scheduling conflict (or a vice) altering plans.
  • Tearing up my face again - I snickered typing this, but hey, I'm a banger. I outwork, outhustle and outgun my opponents. Having a mental block take me out of my element - intentional or not - would be as devastating to my end-result as not being 100% in-shape.
  • Weight - Having fought at 140, I never had problems making 152 for a fight last year, which is where I had my long streak of success. In fact, I'd say the added strength and comfort with my weight was a huge reason for my success. But now? Well if I had a functioning scale that didn't seem to be stuck on 165, I'd actually know how much I weigh... but I'd still probably have anxiety that I'll have a lot of weight to cut in the sauna the week of my next bout - especially since a lot of this new mass is due to me bulking up while I wasn't boxing, rather than just letting myself go. Some definite changes to my weightlifting routines (and maybe, just maybe, my drinking habits) are in order...
And right there, maybe I got to the root of it – whether it’s a lack of urgency or just a consistent flow in my week-to-week training, I seem to be spiraling in a "trap of the week" cycle and am improvising a comeback rather than just executing.

In the end, that will be the difference between success or falling short when the boxing “busy season” starts in September – whether I plow through these challenges and train in a crisp, straight line to the top, or meander through this briar patch of obstacles and let them slow me down.

At the end of the day though, my feet are moving and slowly but surely I'm progressing forward. It’s going to take a lot more than this to keep me from my titles.

Thursday, June 17, 2010


Training camp officially has a pulse - and a strong one at that, thanks to some clever time management and the rediscovery of my stubborn, "train now because your opponent's still sleeping" approach.

Back in the flow, I can tell there are (again) some big things ahead for me. Some of you all might not have believed me when I said the same thing this time last year, but, well, look what happened. I've got the TV and newspaper clips to prove what I can do when I just do it, and I have every intention of building on those successes. If anything, it'll be "easier" this time around, if not for experience than for the ability to breathe again at full capacity.

With the intensity cranked up again, I've been reminded that boxing's not just something I do - it's what I do. It's my drive and passion, my love and my greatness. It's the summation of my talents - from God-given tools like strength and stamina to inherited traits (thanks Pops!) like my work ethic and the mental toughness to never be unprepared, to never lose no matter how deep I have to dig.

You can always dig deeper. Always, always always. The moment you lose that mentality is the exact time you become mortal in the ring again.

And while this might sound altruistic, frankly it's just an inexplicable drive I can't push aside for the sake of living "the norm." I'm starting to think it's not a coincidence that boxing fits so seamlessly into the rest of my life. I've still been working tirelessly at work, traveling around NY and New England, catching Red Sox and Celtics games...just living my life. And now that I'm back in the ring, I've been living it more completely.

Life is good and it is full and it is great.

Everything's been rebooted. And while there are still a few issues to hammer out (weight, sparring, strategy among others that I'll detail in my next post) it's safe to say that the comeback's on.

But on second thought, don't call it a comeback. Boxing never left me.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Don't Call it a Comeback

The wait is over. And while saying "the comeback's officially on" might seem tired and obvious, on the same note, simply calling it a "relief" or "good to be back" wouldn't do it justice.

This isn't just me resuming training and stepping back into the ring again. This is re-plugging and re-booting a missing aspect of my life. I've missed boxing. Mourned it during the grind the past few months. And while I'm loving my new job (of which the start date coincided with my surgery & start to the boxing hiatus) there still has been something missing from my day-to-day stride. Yes, I'm happy and pain-free and can breathe again. Hell, I can smell again - it's been nothing short of eye-opening realizing how bashed up my face was before they cleaned it out. All has been well...but it hasn't been right.

An X factor has been missing. A call hasn't been answered. My drive feels like it's been wandering and wasted. That certain urgency and "purpose" just hasn't been there.

But for more than a week now, I've dipped my toe back into the water and am ready to go barreling feet-first back into the ring. Note: feet-first, not face-first. That's what landed me under the knife and looking like this:

Yeesh, look at that swollen clown nose. But to think just how poorly I was breathing before (and prone to infections and bleeding and all-around nastiness) my surgery, let alone overcoming it in the ring with an angry opponent and suffocating mouthpiece.

But alas, I'm mo' better; I'm 100% and hungry. But while I've stayed in more than great shape (as always) I've got a long way to go before I'll be ready to compete at a high level. We all know that a boxer can't be judged by his body type or appearance, and that there's no amount of weights, road work and cross-training that can replace "peak boxing shape." You need speed, stamina, timing, that feel and comfort. (For me, that swagger.) I've had layoffs from the sport before, but never one where I need to so completely rebuild myself to get back to the same level. (Lest we forget that I had my surgery just days after a televised bout, a fight for a championship belt and a thrashing of the regional Golden Gloves finalist.) This will not only be a challenge, but an opportunity. And it'll be fun.

I can't wait to get this motor humming again.

So buckle up, folks.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Sneak Preview

Big news coming later this week, folks. Dusting off the blog and...well, you'll see later this week. ; )

Don't blink, ya might miss it...

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

How the Other Side Lives

This whole hiatus thing is...strange. It's new. And strangely refreshing. But also kind of boring. And just not...right.

The past few weeks I've continued to do a whole lot of nothing as far as the ring is concerned. But in a strange, "normal" sort of way (normal meaning similar to how you odd, non-boxing types who don't like having your faces rearranged approach things - psh, weirdos) I've also been doing a whole lot.

With the additional, extensive work on my face and airways, I'm still not cleared to do anything full-contact. For various reasons, I've taken this one step further and stayed away from the boxing gym altogether, sticking exclusively to weights, plyos and road work. Some of these various reasons include:

- A vacation to the Virgin Islands

- A new job

- Being months away from competing again. With no goal in sight, I wouldn't lose motivation so much as be more prone to impatience and frustration for my situation.

- Missing the Golden Gloves

- Watching the shmuck I pounded on in my 12/11/09 fight televised on NESN make it all the way to the Golden Gloves regional finals. While in a way this is something to hang my hat on (hey, the proof is on the tape) it's also something I'm shaking my head at since I missed a prestigious tourney I clearly could've made some noise in.

- The obvious point that 9 years of pugilism messed my face up. And while even the best sometimes have to get cleaned up before climbing back to the top (hey, Vanderlai Silva just had surgery on his nose to fix his breathing too) recovery is a nuisance and I can't help but fear that it'll subconsciously affect my fight style - sort of like a pitcher who gets beaned by a line-drive comebacker and "is never the same again" even though his health and form all appear to be back in full, top-notch shape.

Yes, I can buy more protective headgear and and tweak my sparring formats and schedule and just trust (know) that I won't be boxing 9 more years and accumulate as much damage...but gah, I'm not a defensive wunderkid like Pernell Whitaker - I'm aggressive and offensive-minded and am in my own head and driving myself crazy with restlessness. And it's silly, but it's enough to keep me at this relaxed pace and in a sort of holding pattern before I break out of my recovery.

After running the Boston Marathon in 2005, a friend told me "don't think about your next marathon until you forget about your last." I've never had to do the same with boxing, but am on the tail-end of exactly this right now.

And to make sure it's clear: I'm not out indefinitely. I never have and never will be scared of eating a little leather - it's the nature of the beast. But right now I'm just not in any rush and in a nice groove everywhere but the ring - as much as it pains me to say. It's kind of nice focusing on the new job and beach muscles and multiple "rest days" with nothing resembling physical activity and taking a vacation to the Virgin Islands and disregarding what the scale says and just chilling... just seeing how the other 99.99% of 24 year-old professionals live. It's invigorating and it's bound to pay off in the long-term boxing-wise.

Some of y'all always have great insights - I'd be interested to hear what do's/don'ts you've run into if you've ever had an injury or prolonged break from your "passion."

Sometimes before you climb back up the mountain, it's nice to enjoy the scenery for awhile before breaking a sweat. And right now, the view's fine.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Along the Road to Recovery

First off: I'd like to thank you all for reading this blog and your well-wishes before my surgery. I do a miserable job responding to your comments and it looks like there are a lot more of y'all who started reading this right as I go from a "peak to a valley," but I truly appreciate your support and readership.

I feel like I could begin and end this post simply by writing "surgery sucks," but, well that obviously doesn't paint much of a picture. Nor does it convey how much I'm missing the ring.

Then again, a one-sentence summary probably would read more along the lines of "it's not the surgery that sucks - it's the 6-week recovery after that sucks."

Despite my pre-anesthesia jitters, surgery went well. And by well, of course, I mean that I didn't die, didn't have to stay overnight, and was only mildly miserable when I got wheeled out of the hospital that afternoon.

By the time I went to bed, I had graduated from jello and pudding to cheese and painkillers. The next morning, I had a doctor's appointment to remove the packing and clean my stitches - at which time I also was informed that my nose "was awful...absolutely horrible once we got in there" and that the damage was far more extensive than they had originally diagnosed. My doctor informed me that he had to do two additional procedures that involved grafting cartilage to the front and bridge of my nose to keep it from collapsing in the future, whether I got popped again or not. Essentially, there was so much wreckage in there that on top of fixing my deviated septum, the doctor felt it was necessary to re-build my nose from the inside out. This obviously made the procedure far more extensive and invasive than originally planned, but was done in order to give me the proper care as the doctor saw fit, and I'm glad he decided to do it while I was already opened up.

As he explained how I'd need to care for all the extra, unexpected stitching, he removed my packing. I am by no means squeamish, but this was far and away the most horrifyingly disgusting, gruesome thing I've ever experienced. I wouldn't doubt that there are still imprints on the armrest from my death grip as he pulled out all the...bleh. Just, bleh. The things that came out of my nose...

Once you get inside it, the human body is gross...

My surgical drainage lasted a few days, but the pain subsided quickly. For the next few days, I was more uncomfortable and inconvenienced rather than swollen or in pain, which was encouraging. By the end of the week I still had significant internal swelling, but I already felt like I was breathing easier than I had been before the procedure.

My 2-week check-up and cleaning went well. My stitches have already begun to dissolve on their own, my wounds are clean and healing nicely, and I've been green-lighted to resume workouts and gentle nose blowing. (NEVER take it for granted that you can blow your nose - especially in the gnarly New England winters when it runs every time you step outside.)

I've eased my way back into "full," strenuous workouts and am feeling good. I think I played my cards perfectly wearing myself out pre-surgery and making sure I was "due" for a few days rest anyway. If you squint at the half-full glass, I kind of only really missed one week of training. It was worth it though - through all the discomfort, I wanted first and foremost to do this right and be done with it, and thus far everything's healing beautifully.

And, more importantly, I can breathe again. Easily and fully breathe. Which is a remarkable feeling once you've gone so long and forgotten what it's like to fill your lungs with air and scents and all sorts of nasal goodness.

Since my surgery, I have not been to my boxing gym, nor have I even gloved up to work the heavy bag at my "normal" gym. This has been done intentionally. Not only do I miss the ring terribly, but, well, I'm just not ready to go back. I don't have headgear with a face guard for regular sparring, I'm out of boxing shape, I don't have a "plan" in place to get back to competing and, frankly, I want to enjoy a few weeks off where I'm fully healthy before I dive back in.

If you're going to go, go all out. I'm not a defensive fighter, so I want to make sure I'm comfortable and at peace with my "new face" before squaring off again. I won't be effective if all I'm thinking about is how to not have my nose get grazed by a glove. Similarly, I'm not a wannabe competitor, so I don't want to rush back and aimlessly plod through half-ass workouts. Like my recovery, when I get back to boxing I want to get back at it "right."

And right now I'm still technically recovering. Just biding my time along the long road to recovery...

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Pre-Surgery Musings

Before I begin with this short little post, I want to remind you all to (if you haven't already) check out my previous entry. It was a more-than-appropriate "final" event before my upcoming competitive hiatus - a sort of peak before I plateau for a bit.

In a few hours, I'll check-in to have surgery to have a deviated septum and some mangled bones and cartilage in my nose fixed. As I've noted here before, I've been virtually unable to breathe through my nose for a few months. (And before that, I was getting sinus infections way too often, and before that my nose would bleed when someone blew in my general direction from down the block - point being, who knows how long this has been getting more and more messed up.) With a slight lull in the upcoming bout schedule, no airplane flights scheduled for over a month and the holidays behind me, I figured now was as good of a time as any to get it fixed.

Recovery time seems to vary. I'm supposed to go 2 weeks (I'm going to use business weeks) without "working out," including not lifting anything over 25 lbs. or bending over at the waist. I'm supposed to stay out of the cold, dry air as much as possible too.

I foresee two "problems." First, no one is saying "absolutely do nothing physical." They're saying "you'll risk a nosebleed" or "well, if you're going to run, I'd recommend you do it inside." I'm all about doing this the right way and healing without any complications, but at the same time, well, I'm a workout-aholic. I think everything will be more clear based on how I'm feeling early next week - then I'll decide whether I want to start small on the exercise bike or with 5 lb. dumbbells or something to keep my heart rate and blood pressure low (and most importantly, my aching nose happy.) But no matter what, I need to make sure I absolutely don't do too much too soon and have any setbacks.

The other problem is that this is resulting in an indefinite absence from the competitive side of boxing. I'm by no means hanging up my gloves - it's only 2 weeks before I'll be starting to work back up to full speed again. The problem is that it will likely be, well, who knows how long before I feel comfortable enough to put the headgear on and step back into the ring. Even though I'm going to order one of those models of headgear that have the bar across your nose/mouth that the pros use when sparring in training camp, I don't ever want to have to battle a mental block fearing that my nose could again gradually be getting messed up over time. Besides, you can't do anything extra to truly protect your face in a sanctioned bout.

The bottom line: I am not finished boxing - not even this month. But I do not want to (and God willing will not have to) have surgery again.

I had considered drafting some prose here that outlined all the things I'll miss about the ring. But then I realized that not only is that a bit melodramatic and even cliche...but unnecessary. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be back, and perhaps much sooner rather than later.

The road to recovery starts tomorrow. And in the context of all the other challenges I've had to overcome during my amateur boxing career, this road doesn't seem so bad.

Keep swingin'. Talk to y'all in a few days.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

NESN Fight Night Finale

With a only a week to prepare between my sanctioned bout in Billerica and the exhibition being recorded as the season finale for the reality show on NESN, I had to strike an impromptu balance between resting, maintaining and training. I had peaked the previous Saturday (as planned) but was definitely a little tired and sore the days after - but per usual, there was no rest for the weary and the televised bout at week's end was arguably bigger than the sanctioned one that had just passed.

Come Monday when I started thinking about the ring again, my biggest concern was an achy jaw. In my 8+ years of boxing, my jaw honestly has never hurt, but a few stiff uppercuts had changed that and made it pretty creaky. Some light sparring later in the week did nothing to aggravate it, but even the lightest contact confirmed that it was sensitive.

The week passed with me surrounding a rigorous workout and some sparring around two lighter, non-contact sessions. With the fight at a catch weight, I was able to sleep, eat and hydrate as much as I wanted, which definitely helped with recovery.

With the bout on a Friday - which, as I've whined about a lot on here, is my least favorite day to fight given the whole 8-6 work thing - I spent the hours leading up to the fight, well, doing the 8-6 work thing. I walked over to the gym after work "per usual," treating the fight night like just another night working out in my 2nd office.

With the knowledge that amateur events never start on time and televised events run even later, I made myself comfortable in the locker room. 15 minutes past the original start time turned to 30 and eventually an hour passed without a new ETA. As a NESN camera started asking me generic questions about whether or not I was ready, a fight sheet was finally posted...and my trainer informed me I was up 2nd. And the 1st fight was beginning immediately.

Like the Billerica fight, I didn't have any time to waste revving my engines - I needed to get loose in a hurry and my hands weren't even wrapped. In retrospect, the fire-drill warm-up might have had its perks, such as keeping me relaxed and limiting my time to meander around and wear myself out by "over-warming up." At the time though, it was a bit stressful multi-tasking (wrapping my hands while I stretched my hammies, fumbling with my headgear as I worked the kinks out of my back) and making it to my corner before the opening bell.

But alas, as always, things fell into place and I was able to get a (sorry excuse for a) sweat worked up before the bell rang, and had a piece of advice to boot. As with most of my bouts, I hadn't ever fought my opponent before, but a training partner had faced him before. And the scouting report? "He's a lefty...throws a lot of left hands...just stay away from his left hand and you'll be fine."

So, well, there was that insight...

The cameras didn't really add to any different feel or nervousness, both internally as well as the larger gym atmosphere. I was on my home turf and feeling good as I touched gloves with my opponent. True to the scouting report, he started off throwing lots of individual punches, with the majority of them being straight lefts. He was a strong kid but was at noticeable disadvantages in the speed and work-rate departments. Aside from an early straight left that clipped my jaw and reminded me that it had been hurting all week, my opponent really didn't do much in the first round besides eat my jabs and straight rights as I felt him out and gained confidence (and momentum) with each passing second. As the bell rang, I saw no reason why I couldn't keep feeding him the same, steady diet of lead rights between his hands for the remaining 2/3 of the bout and coast.

The 2nd round began with my opponent bull rushing me, yet (oddly) continuing to throw punches at a slow rate, with most of them now directed to my body. The vast majority of his body shots didn't land, and I was able to use some good angles to land some crisp counter hooks over his lowered hands. In close and low - but not throwing punches - neutralized my right hand, but resulted in my opponent spending the majority of the round bent over at the waist or in an awkward squat, crowding himself below my waist and slowing his punch output to a crawl.

But while his punch output slowed as he ducked/bent/squatted into me from all angles, he upped his pushing and cheap-shot activities. Perhaps frustrated at his ineffectiveness (both in the 1st round as well as his bumbling 2nd round adjustments) or just tired of getting hit so cleanly so often, my opponent apparently seemed to have no choice but to start fighting dirty.

And not dirty in a "thumb your eye, sneak an elbow in, hit you low, wear you out and rough you up" sort of way. No, this was dirty in the "I'm a punk with Daddy issues that's going to wrestle/push/hip-toss my way out of clinches, throw punches after the ref steps in for a break, and flagrantly hit you low...because I'm helpless to do anything else to you" sort of way.

The kind of dirty that got the crowd fired up, groaning and cheering even louder for me.

The kind of dirty that didn't make me angry, but confident - or rather, cocky.

I had never been so sure of anything in my life than that the kid had nothing on me. And after 2 rounds, he knew it too. He knew it and was helpless to do anything but get even more frustrated, spiraling into a (frankly) pathetic, desperate fit in the ring.

So as I came out of my corner for Round 3...I smiled. I winked. I added a little "eff-you" to my jabs, pounced inside behind my lead rights and flurried, and made sure to give the kid an earful whenever we were in close to tell him who's boss.

I'm all about sportsmanship - but I'm also about putting someone in their place in my ring.

Through it all, my opponent continued to wait to land one, single big punch at a time (and he's still waiting) and kept routinely keeling his upper-body below my waist, awkwardly clinching low and then shoving his way out.

In the waning seconds of the bout, I had him on the ropes and was calmly working over his body - chin-tucked, shoulder rolled, methodically landing the body-body-body-bodies you throw 100000's of every week - when he quit struggling and lifted his arms above his hands, encouraging me to keep hitting his body.

Ah, the ultimate concession: "you're hitting me so much that all I can do is take it and convince you they don't hurt."

Which was fine by me.

So after a few pitter-patter body shots, I did the only decent thing: I came upstairs and hit him right between his raised arms.

I don't care whether you're boxing, brawling or showboating - if you stick your chin out, I'm going to hit it.

And while I didn't knock him down (ah, if only it was circa Toney/Jones Jr.) the ref stepped in - whether because he saw he was hurt or simply wanted to tell him again to knock off his shenanigans.

Upon hearing cries of "10 seconds left" from my corner, I was more than happy to pounce on the kid again, landing a number of punches in a flurry and - just before the final bell - knocking his headgear clean off his (fat) head with an uppercut.

The bell rang and the ref stepped in...just in time for my opponent to hit me after the bell one, final time - his nose bloodies and headgear on the canvas. I couldn't help but just laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, shake my head and walk to my corner, completely satisfied by just how far I had risen above his awkward, bush-league tactics. It was a boxing 101 seminar. And on TV, no less.

My opponent didn't even stick around for the obligatory hand-raise in the middle of the ring - he just bee-lined it back to the locker room (or whatever sad, sorry hole he crawled out of).

After the fight, my gymmates gave me fist pounds and nods of approval, while some of my friends squawked and were more fired up than me, re-emphasizing just how cheap and sorry my opponent was. Fortunately, I was able to just laugh and tell them to shrug it off too - I couldn't have done anything more to beat the kid pillar to post.

Or rather, box him pillar to post. And that's what it was, and that's what's most satisfying; not the lights or the crowd or the machismo, but having your hard work pay-off and being in "that fight," being that guy who had everyone talking about what a clinic a boxer over a brawler can be.

'Tis a beautiful thing, the sweet science.

And if you don't believe me (or the crowd, or my friends, or my opponent's blood that I had to wash off my arms and trunks) you can see it on the "Boston Boxing" season finale on NESN.

Or better yet, check out the Allston-Brighton Tab's coverage of the event (namely picture 6):

For those of you who didn't click through, the newspaper's caption reads: "John Moreland of Boston Boxing connects with a right uppercut to the face of his outclassed opponent Joe Parina of Quincy PAL during the filming of a new reality TV show on NESN at the Boston Boxing gym in Allston on Friday."

Ah, to be a famous amateur boxer... albeit have your name misspelled.

Lessons learned:
- You should always strive to dominate your opponent enough that even the newspaper says you outclassed him. That way there's no questions or doubts in your mind - or the crowd's, your opponent's, the public's, or most importantly, the judges' minds either.
- Patience, smarts and savvy trump dirty boxing 99 times out of 100.
- If you're fighting a southpaw, lead rights down the shoot are your best friend.
- Wear a cup.
- Respect your opponent, but most importantly, respect the sport. Boxing has a funny way of weeding out (or at the very least, making examples of) those who enter the ring for the wrong reasons.

And that friends, was my 2009 boxing highlight. And I can't wait to record it and keep re-living it.