Aside from consistency, the major thing missing from my training regimen the past few months has been getting different looks sparring. There are quite a few bodies in my gym, but too many of them are cut from the same mold, whether it be size, style or a lack of experience (or just flat out skill - let’s be honest.)
Now while this can be easily remedied by, say, going to a different gym to spar for a day, increasing rounds but slowing the pace with a “newbie” to fine-tune technique and try new stuff, or making sure you’ve mastered an attack plan for a particular style through repetition, there are some molds/types/styles that you just can’t get used to unless you see it early and often.
Southpaws often need “approached” like this. There aren’t a ton of them out there and they give lots of people problems in the ring from, well, squaring up “backwards.” If you don’t have a lot of experience with them, they’re bound to give you problems or - best case - take you out of your element and force you to fight differently than you would against an orthodox fighter, even if it’s an adjustment as simple as the direction you circle.
Having said that, over time I’ve learned not to completely hate lefties. Rounds and rounds of sparring and countless (thudding) left hands have made me quit thinking “oops, I need to quit doing that” after the fact and be able to step into the ring knowing how to best counter and attack a lefty.
Where’s this leading? Well it ties into last post’s question about tall, rangy fighters.
Because last week I learned that I haven’t spent nearly enough rounds with taller fighters lately.
And I still am not even close to figuring them out.
Tall fighters are not tough automatically because of their height - they're tough when they use that height and create an advantage. And this isn't just purely by reach, but also defensively through shoulder rolls, slips, leans and just good all-around, defensive upper body movement.
My recent experience was with a super slick, lanky 152-lber from another gym who came in for some work. While I had some early success getting inside, neutralizing his height and banging with him, he moved well enough and fired off enough jabs that I (stupidly, out of frustration) tried to start jabbing with him and fighting at a distance.
Which is not smart when you're facing a finesse fighter with a 4-5" height advantage.
In the end, we moved around 4 rounds, with me kicking his tail on the inside for the first 60 seconds...and then him picking me apart for the last 120 of each round.
Lesson learned. Get inside early and get comfy there - his arms don't seem so long close-up.
This sparring, of course, was part of my training for my sanctioned bout this Saturday, 12/5, which is still confirmed. While I don't feel like (rather, I know I'm not) in the immaculate condition I was before my hiatus in October, I've upped my sparring and drills (4-punch drills/exchanges, jab drills, the partner stuff I'm not usually a regular with) and have done what I can with the time and energy allotted. Aside from some big-time trouble breathing because of my crooked shnozz, I think the only think needed now is to keep ramping up my mental preparation and sharpening the chip on my shoulder. And even then, with mental prep comes confidence and relaxation, which will only help my energy and stamina in the ring.
It's all connected, it's all catching up, and it'll all come together beautifully Saturday. It will. Like it always does. For serious.
So long as my opponent's not tall.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Trying to keep up - pt 1 of 2
What a whirlwind week. While I've been feeling relatively good in the ring with some encouraging results to boot, I can't help but feel a little anxious that I'm just doing enough to get by and I won't be able to keep savvy-ing my way to wins forever. (Who would have thunk we'd see the day where I ease off the gas, stop being so quick to brawl, use my head and dominate with "savvy?")
Speaking of which, the short-notice bouts continue to roll in. I was notified last Friday that I'd be fighting on December 4 and in our reality show season finale on December 11. Seeing how that's not even two weeks away, I'm officially behind and borderline desperate to get things "clicking" again - but tell that to the Dr.'s appointments, dentist drilling for oil in my gums, client projects and breakneck pace at the office. Oy. Just got to make it happen...
But to backtrack:
Last Friday I had a bout at an event hosted by my gym. Ironically, my opponent didn't show, so I was matched against a stablemate in a similar situation. I had never moved around with him before, but he's had some amateur success and is graced with - without a doubt, far and away - the fastest hands in the gym. Unfortunately, until I can post the video (and there will be video - this was recorded by a trainer as well as the TV crew) I'm stuck giving you the Reader's Digest version.
Round 1 was very much a feeling out round, with me gauging just how much faster he was than me (a lot) and figuring out what it will take to pin him in a corner, lower his work rate, slow down...anything to get him to keep his hands still and by his chin. Fortunately (for my face as well as my strategy) he wasn't one to push the tempo, engaging me at a pace that was borderline lazy. Noticing this early, I made sure to flurry the last 30 seconds to steal some points and the round.
Whether he got tired, lazy, comfortable or intimidated by my pop (the ham-muh was singing!) his work rate decreased further in Round 2 and I was able to consistently throw first. And since he was letting me get off first, I made sure to get off often, keeping distance with my lead right, sticking a healthy diet of jabs in his face, and pouncing in and out with 5-, 6- and 38- (if only) punch combinations.
Round 3 was a repeat of Round 2, only more lopsided in my favor. I kept my defense tight and feet moving to make sure we only engaged when I wanted to - we either traded individual punches at a distance or I was able to open him up, flurry in close and then quickly escape back out behind my jab. After the final bell, my corner and random spectators alike were telling me I "beat him up" - which, when going against a speedster, means a lot and is an indication of just how well I was able to neutralize his speed and fight my fight.
Another interesting comment I kept hearing was that I "looked so relaxed." I think that explains why I surprised myself with how much I had left in the gas tank. I also think it's a completely overlooked aspect of amateur boxing. There's no better way to tire yourself out, start lunging and getting sloppy than tensing up in the ring. It used to be a problem of mine, but I think time, experience and mental as much as physical preparation can help anyone stay calm, loose and composed in a bout, with far-reaching benefits.
Anyway, that brings us to a little over a week ago. Both a lot (sparring a nationally-ranked boxer on camera, learning about my two bouts early next month) and surprising little (um, not nearly enough time in the gym) has happened since then, but I want to leave that for another post this week. After all, with the holidays I'll definitely have time to crank out some more content, as well as (finally) tweak some visual stuff on this sorry-looking site.
You have to catch up with yourself before you can keep up (and move ahead) of the pack...
Until then, allow me to pose a question for the comments section: how would you fight a much taller opponent? And don't Google it - I'm much more interested in your experience, whether it be an in-ring lesson or outside observation. My answer (and rude awakening) coming later this week...
Speaking of which, the short-notice bouts continue to roll in. I was notified last Friday that I'd be fighting on December 4 and in our reality show season finale on December 11. Seeing how that's not even two weeks away, I'm officially behind and borderline desperate to get things "clicking" again - but tell that to the Dr.'s appointments, dentist drilling for oil in my gums, client projects and breakneck pace at the office. Oy. Just got to make it happen...
But to backtrack:
Last Friday I had a bout at an event hosted by my gym. Ironically, my opponent didn't show, so I was matched against a stablemate in a similar situation. I had never moved around with him before, but he's had some amateur success and is graced with - without a doubt, far and away - the fastest hands in the gym. Unfortunately, until I can post the video (and there will be video - this was recorded by a trainer as well as the TV crew) I'm stuck giving you the Reader's Digest version.
Round 1 was very much a feeling out round, with me gauging just how much faster he was than me (a lot) and figuring out what it will take to pin him in a corner, lower his work rate, slow down...anything to get him to keep his hands still and by his chin. Fortunately (for my face as well as my strategy) he wasn't one to push the tempo, engaging me at a pace that was borderline lazy. Noticing this early, I made sure to flurry the last 30 seconds to steal some points and the round.
Whether he got tired, lazy, comfortable or intimidated by my pop (the ham-muh was singing!) his work rate decreased further in Round 2 and I was able to consistently throw first. And since he was letting me get off first, I made sure to get off often, keeping distance with my lead right, sticking a healthy diet of jabs in his face, and pouncing in and out with 5-, 6- and 38- (if only) punch combinations.
Round 3 was a repeat of Round 2, only more lopsided in my favor. I kept my defense tight and feet moving to make sure we only engaged when I wanted to - we either traded individual punches at a distance or I was able to open him up, flurry in close and then quickly escape back out behind my jab. After the final bell, my corner and random spectators alike were telling me I "beat him up" - which, when going against a speedster, means a lot and is an indication of just how well I was able to neutralize his speed and fight my fight.
Another interesting comment I kept hearing was that I "looked so relaxed." I think that explains why I surprised myself with how much I had left in the gas tank. I also think it's a completely overlooked aspect of amateur boxing. There's no better way to tire yourself out, start lunging and getting sloppy than tensing up in the ring. It used to be a problem of mine, but I think time, experience and mental as much as physical preparation can help anyone stay calm, loose and composed in a bout, with far-reaching benefits.
Anyway, that brings us to a little over a week ago. Both a lot (sparring a nationally-ranked boxer on camera, learning about my two bouts early next month) and surprising little (um, not nearly enough time in the gym) has happened since then, but I want to leave that for another post this week. After all, with the holidays I'll definitely have time to crank out some more content, as well as (finally) tweak some visual stuff on this sorry-looking site.
You have to catch up with yourself before you can keep up (and move ahead) of the pack...
Until then, allow me to pose a question for the comments section: how would you fight a much taller opponent? And don't Google it - I'm much more interested in your experience, whether it be an in-ring lesson or outside observation. My answer (and rude awakening) coming later this week...
Friday, November 13, 2009
Preparation is key
I'm a creature of habit when it comes to the 36 hours immediately leading up to a fight. Last night, however, I had no choice but to break my rituals.
After swinging into CVS to buy a protein bar, banana, sugar free Red Bull and my other pre-fight necessities, I walked home and went to unlock my back door...when I couldn't find my apartment key. Key chain? Check. My apartment key? Nowhere to be found.
Thank you, Murphy's Law...
I call my roommate and of course, she isn't answering. I have someone let me into the building itself, drop my goodies off at my apartment door and do what any decent, patient man would do: walk to my favorite neighborhood bar.
So instead of a home cooked dinner of chicken parm, I had a (delicious) grilled cheese with fried pickles. And a mug of Octoberfest, because I was in that sort of mood. (Pre-fight rules be damned!)
A buddy was in the area, so we met up and one mug turned into two. It's been three hours and my roommate is still not answering or replying. And that's when the spelling bee started.
Yes, a spelling bee. Like on TV with the little, uber-geeky kids. Just at a bar. And it was awesome, albeit of no help getting me in my apartment and my bed.
10:30 p.m. rolls around and I'm still - for all intents and purposes - homeless. I line up a couch to sleep on, a ride to work in the a.m. and a washing machine to wash my clothes since I'll be wearing them two days in a row. I trek out into the night to hop on the train...
...when my roommate calls.
30 minutes later, I'm in my apartment, spare key in hand. I won't even tell you where my key was, but, well, it was in the most obvious place outside of staying on my key chain.
So in short: while I'm in good shape and have had good results the past two weeks in the ring, I am far from being peaked and truly "ring ready." I've worked a long week in the office (hell, I'm still at my desk now, just 3 hours before my bout), didn't get much sleep last night and have done nothing other than eat well today and hydrate to prepare for my bout.
But ya know what?
I'm still savvy, hungry and have more than enough to work with.
And I'mma whup this dude something fierce tonight.
After swinging into CVS to buy a protein bar, banana, sugar free Red Bull and my other pre-fight necessities, I walked home and went to unlock my back door...when I couldn't find my apartment key. Key chain? Check. My apartment key? Nowhere to be found.
Thank you, Murphy's Law...
I call my roommate and of course, she isn't answering. I have someone let me into the building itself, drop my goodies off at my apartment door and do what any decent, patient man would do: walk to my favorite neighborhood bar.
So instead of a home cooked dinner of chicken parm, I had a (delicious) grilled cheese with fried pickles. And a mug of Octoberfest, because I was in that sort of mood. (Pre-fight rules be damned!)
A buddy was in the area, so we met up and one mug turned into two. It's been three hours and my roommate is still not answering or replying. And that's when the spelling bee started.
Yes, a spelling bee. Like on TV with the little, uber-geeky kids. Just at a bar. And it was awesome, albeit of no help getting me in my apartment and my bed.
10:30 p.m. rolls around and I'm still - for all intents and purposes - homeless. I line up a couch to sleep on, a ride to work in the a.m. and a washing machine to wash my clothes since I'll be wearing them two days in a row. I trek out into the night to hop on the train...
...when my roommate calls.
30 minutes later, I'm in my apartment, spare key in hand. I won't even tell you where my key was, but, well, it was in the most obvious place outside of staying on my key chain.
So in short: while I'm in good shape and have had good results the past two weeks in the ring, I am far from being peaked and truly "ring ready." I've worked a long week in the office (hell, I'm still at my desk now, just 3 hours before my bout), didn't get much sleep last night and have done nothing other than eat well today and hydrate to prepare for my bout.
But ya know what?
I'm still savvy, hungry and have more than enough to work with.
And I'mma whup this dude something fierce tonight.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
...And back on the upswing
Despite battling a nasty head cold that sent me to the doctor for the first time in years, this past week I've been able to fully regain, well, whatever it is I lost during my inactivity last month. I can't put my finger on whatever it was (Strength? Cardio? A little swagger?) but it's probably best labeled as ring rust and I don't think it will be around much longer.
In a way, this week has been a classic example of the proverbial leap "out of the frying pan and into the fire" - namely, I've already had an aggressive sparring session with one of the other, better competitive boxers from my gym. The quasi-bout was scored for the gym's ongoing team training competition, of which I'm sort of a hired gun since I really only come in to spar on behalf of the red team on Saturdays and do my own the thing the rest of the week. Regardless of my role, the competition is being filmed for a local network as a reality TV show, so it's exciting to have some intense sparring that's a little more high-stakes than just an ordinary workout or inter-gym competition.
Having said that, this is my 2nd "televised" bout and my 2nd victory. The dude I moved around with usually has an uber-high work rate and is constantly coming forward. Where that can give anyone trouble on the right (wrong?) days, I made sure to punch first, doubling and tripling my jab and throwing lots of lead right hands to keep him honest and at a good distance. With my range and power shots established, I was able to pick my spots to cut off the ring, angle in and flurry effectively.
So while I didn't feel as energized and strong as I did just a few weeks ago, I was able to outbox, outwork and out-land my opponent all 3 rounds. It was a borderline clinic...and I have the broadcast to prove it. (No big deal...)
At the end of my workout, my trainer said he wants me to fight in a big exhibition this Friday to stay active. Not only am I chomping at the bit to box, box and box, but I've found that having a hard date to work towards helps me push my limits within individual workouts leading up to it. It's not that I need the help getting to the gym or working hard, so much as this provides the sense of desperation and purpose that helps me keep the pedal to the floor even when fatigue starts setting in. After all, a bout's not an exam - you can't cram for it. A scheduled, confirmed date keeps me honest.
I had a few random notes that I wanted to touch on, but this post is getting long and I know y'all have other boxing news to catch up on. (Anyone else agree that we're in the beginning weeks of a pretty good stretch of boxing match-ups?) Definitely stay tuned though - with the upswing of action in the gym, I'm also planning on injecting some life into this blog and changing...stuff. No set plans yet, but this place needs a face-lift.
On the up and up...
In a way, this week has been a classic example of the proverbial leap "out of the frying pan and into the fire" - namely, I've already had an aggressive sparring session with one of the other, better competitive boxers from my gym. The quasi-bout was scored for the gym's ongoing team training competition, of which I'm sort of a hired gun since I really only come in to spar on behalf of the red team on Saturdays and do my own the thing the rest of the week. Regardless of my role, the competition is being filmed for a local network as a reality TV show, so it's exciting to have some intense sparring that's a little more high-stakes than just an ordinary workout or inter-gym competition.
Having said that, this is my 2nd "televised" bout and my 2nd victory. The dude I moved around with usually has an uber-high work rate and is constantly coming forward. Where that can give anyone trouble on the right (wrong?) days, I made sure to punch first, doubling and tripling my jab and throwing lots of lead right hands to keep him honest and at a good distance. With my range and power shots established, I was able to pick my spots to cut off the ring, angle in and flurry effectively.
So while I didn't feel as energized and strong as I did just a few weeks ago, I was able to outbox, outwork and out-land my opponent all 3 rounds. It was a borderline clinic...and I have the broadcast to prove it. (No big deal...)
At the end of my workout, my trainer said he wants me to fight in a big exhibition this Friday to stay active. Not only am I chomping at the bit to box, box and box, but I've found that having a hard date to work towards helps me push my limits within individual workouts leading up to it. It's not that I need the help getting to the gym or working hard, so much as this provides the sense of desperation and purpose that helps me keep the pedal to the floor even when fatigue starts setting in. After all, a bout's not an exam - you can't cram for it. A scheduled, confirmed date keeps me honest.
I had a few random notes that I wanted to touch on, but this post is getting long and I know y'all have other boxing news to catch up on. (Anyone else agree that we're in the beginning weeks of a pretty good stretch of boxing match-ups?) Definitely stay tuned though - with the upswing of action in the gym, I'm also planning on injecting some life into this blog and changing...stuff. No set plans yet, but this place needs a face-lift.
On the up and up...
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Escaping the doldrums
There's an old training adage that says "the hardest step of a workout is the first one out your front door." I've never had this problem in the literal sense, but fresh off my mini-hiatus, I'm learning that the hardest part of climbing a mountain again is standing at the base and remembering that you've been to the top before.
My workouts this week haven't been bad, but they haven't been "right." Cross-training has kept me in great physical condition, but I'm no longer in top boxing shape (yes, there is a difference and yes, you can lose it in just a few weeks.) It's almost a sort of foreign feeling - my mind is still sharp, but my body's lagging just a half millisecond behind. There's a wee bit less snap on my jab, not quite as much thud on my right cross and my footwork (or rather everything from my shoulders down) feels a little clunky. I think this is as much a testament to how "peaked" I was last month moreso than how far and how quickly I've fallen. There's no reason I won't get it back - it's just an issue of making sure the ball's rolling again sooner rather than later.
On the flipside, I think the break did me good - namely, the aches and pains bothering me last fight have yet to resurface. The degenerative disc in my back still flares a little (hopefully just due to the gnarly New England weather) and the cartilage in my nose is still mangled, but neither of these things were going to heal on their own anyway and I'm used to rehabbing/working through the troubles they present. Mentally, I didn't really have any issues to take care of. My last lost was bogus, but I know how prepared (and quite frankly better) I was, so I'm all the more motivated to get back at it. That's one spark that won't go away until I get back in the win column...aka my next bout.
So there's no momentum yet, but I'm definitely off my haunches and back in the saddle. I really couldn't be gearing up again at a better time - my gym has a few new sponsors and apparently the TV crews that have been floating around are filming a mini-series for NESN, so the gym itself has some extra buzz to help me along.
The wind's at my back and the first step's been (re)taken - time to build some momentum and get moving again.
My workouts this week haven't been bad, but they haven't been "right." Cross-training has kept me in great physical condition, but I'm no longer in top boxing shape (yes, there is a difference and yes, you can lose it in just a few weeks.) It's almost a sort of foreign feeling - my mind is still sharp, but my body's lagging just a half millisecond behind. There's a wee bit less snap on my jab, not quite as much thud on my right cross and my footwork (or rather everything from my shoulders down) feels a little clunky. I think this is as much a testament to how "peaked" I was last month moreso than how far and how quickly I've fallen. There's no reason I won't get it back - it's just an issue of making sure the ball's rolling again sooner rather than later.
On the flipside, I think the break did me good - namely, the aches and pains bothering me last fight have yet to resurface. The degenerative disc in my back still flares a little (hopefully just due to the gnarly New England weather) and the cartilage in my nose is still mangled, but neither of these things were going to heal on their own anyway and I'm used to rehabbing/working through the troubles they present. Mentally, I didn't really have any issues to take care of. My last lost was bogus, but I know how prepared (and quite frankly better) I was, so I'm all the more motivated to get back at it. That's one spark that won't go away until I get back in the win column...aka my next bout.
So there's no momentum yet, but I'm definitely off my haunches and back in the saddle. I really couldn't be gearing up again at a better time - my gym has a few new sponsors and apparently the TV crews that have been floating around are filming a mini-series for NESN, so the gym itself has some extra buzz to help me along.
The wind's at my back and the first step's been (re)taken - time to build some momentum and get moving again.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
No news is not good news. At all.
So can it still be called an update if you have nothing new to report? Or nothing good at least...
It's been mighty quiet on the boxing front as of late. As I've eased my way back into "full-time" training, my job also has transitioned back into "full-time overdrive super busy agency" mode, leaving me a bit short on time and energy the past week. A few days I've had to abandon my original plans to hit the boxing gym hard and instead resorted to just cross-training on my own. I don't know whether or not being so busy contributed to me getting sick this past weekend, but I was a few germs short of death for a few days and the only boxing I wanted to be a part of was on the "Latin Fury" card I was fortunate to attend live in New York. Speaking of which, did any of you all catch it on PPV? Lopez/Mtagawa has my early vote for Fight of the Year and Yuriorkis Gamboa still never ceases to amaze me. Even the most casual fight fans would enjoy these two bouts, so check them out if you can.
But anyway, work, a long weekend in NYC and a horrific, 72-hour variation of the 24-hour flu bug slowed my in-ring escapades to a near halt since last Saturday - which, fittingly was a great sparring session.
Which, unfortunately, might have been one of my final sparring sessions for awhile...
Because earlier today I visited a doctor about my recurring sinus problems and learned that I have a severely deviated septum. The doctor's descriptions ranged from comparing it to "an accordian," "a pretzel" and "a true boxer's septum," which I for some reason found to be a bit flattering. (Hey, you'd be trying to find something positive about it too...) The only treatment for a deviated septum is surgery, which then requires a recovery period involving 2 weeks with no strenuous activity and at least 4 weeks of no boxing.
In a way, I'm a little lucky that this is the extent of my first legit boxing-related injury in 8+ years, seeing how I've been living with the symptoms and can choose when I put boxing on hold and have the surgery...but man this sucks.
I'm now deciding whether I want to have the surgery ASAP(the doctor said the earliest he can schedule it would be early November) or just...sort of wait a bit and see. This whole breathing through one nostril thing is a super inconvenience and all, but, well, I want to box. (This much we know.) I still have goals I want to accomplish in the short-term, and I'm just three weeks removed from being a regional semifinalist in a tournament. I should be continuing to move forward, not taking a giant hiatus and leap backwards. It will be hard to step away not just from the ring but the gym altogether for a full month.
So until I decide when I'm going to suck it up and go under the knife, I'm working out at a feverish pace - enjoying it while I can, I guess - and trying to convince myself that I'm breathing just fine. Which I am, of course. Just...through a nostril that randomly starts whistling. And plugs up when the wind blows. But aside from that, nothing but clear breathing for this guy.
Here's to this next week being more productive in the ring than the last - or at the least, not confirming another unforeseen but unavoidable setback.
It's been mighty quiet on the boxing front as of late. As I've eased my way back into "full-time" training, my job also has transitioned back into "full-time overdrive super busy agency" mode, leaving me a bit short on time and energy the past week. A few days I've had to abandon my original plans to hit the boxing gym hard and instead resorted to just cross-training on my own. I don't know whether or not being so busy contributed to me getting sick this past weekend, but I was a few germs short of death for a few days and the only boxing I wanted to be a part of was on the "Latin Fury" card I was fortunate to attend live in New York. Speaking of which, did any of you all catch it on PPV? Lopez/Mtagawa has my early vote for Fight of the Year and Yuriorkis Gamboa still never ceases to amaze me. Even the most casual fight fans would enjoy these two bouts, so check them out if you can.
But anyway, work, a long weekend in NYC and a horrific, 72-hour variation of the 24-hour flu bug slowed my in-ring escapades to a near halt since last Saturday - which, fittingly was a great sparring session.
Which, unfortunately, might have been one of my final sparring sessions for awhile...
Because earlier today I visited a doctor about my recurring sinus problems and learned that I have a severely deviated septum. The doctor's descriptions ranged from comparing it to "an accordian," "a pretzel" and "a true boxer's septum," which I for some reason found to be a bit flattering. (Hey, you'd be trying to find something positive about it too...) The only treatment for a deviated septum is surgery, which then requires a recovery period involving 2 weeks with no strenuous activity and at least 4 weeks of no boxing.
In a way, I'm a little lucky that this is the extent of my first legit boxing-related injury in 8+ years, seeing how I've been living with the symptoms and can choose when I put boxing on hold and have the surgery...but man this sucks.
I'm now deciding whether I want to have the surgery ASAP(the doctor said the earliest he can schedule it would be early November) or just...sort of wait a bit and see. This whole breathing through one nostril thing is a super inconvenience and all, but, well, I want to box. (This much we know.) I still have goals I want to accomplish in the short-term, and I'm just three weeks removed from being a regional semifinalist in a tournament. I should be continuing to move forward, not taking a giant hiatus and leap backwards. It will be hard to step away not just from the ring but the gym altogether for a full month.
So until I decide when I'm going to suck it up and go under the knife, I'm working out at a feverish pace - enjoying it while I can, I guess - and trying to convince myself that I'm breathing just fine. Which I am, of course. Just...through a nostril that randomly starts whistling. And plugs up when the wind blows. But aside from that, nothing but clear breathing for this guy.
Here's to this next week being more productive in the ring than the last - or at the least, not confirming another unforeseen but unavoidable setback.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Onwards
This is long overdue, so I'm just going to hop right into it - here's the recap of my bout last Saturday in the regional finals of the Rocky Marciano tournament:
I woke up early, as thirsty and hungry as expected, but in great spirits. Between the trip in my trainer's car and getting settled at the venue's locker room, I spent the hours before weigh-in channeling my inner Buddha - at peace, relaxed and just treating it like any other Saturday in the gym. When the scalemaster finally showed up, I hopped in line and weighed a whopping 147. (I guess I should have fried some wings the night before instead of nibbling on a grilled chicken breast...) Needless to say, I got right to work putting that weight back on had my first Powerbar unwrapped before I even put my shirt back on.
I went back to the locker room and relaxed, reading my book (fittingly, a bio on Roberto Duran) and munching on bananas, cold spaghetti and another protein bar. Surprisingly, I wasn't anxious in the least. On the contrary, I was doing what I loved and I knew with certainty that I was ready, so I truly had nothing to fear.
I warmed up, stretched out, had one of my cornermen wrap my hands (everyone should have their hands wrapped by someone else at least once - the light, airy snugness on your knuckles, using gauze instead of linen... it's pugilistic pampering) and before I knew it, my name was being called.
After weeks of training, sacrifice and preparation, it was finally time to put it all together and win some hardware.
My opponent came out at the opening bell with guns blazing, winding up on his toes and lunging at me with power punches in bunches. He was a strong kid and landed a few solid shots, but never hurt me and set a pace I knew was unmaintainable. He clinched a lot and rough-housed, but was only the 2nd toughest fighter in the ring. The bell rang and I went back to my corner knowing I was behind on points, but held a huge advantage in skill, strategy and stamina.
As expected, the 2nd round swayed drastically in my favor and at times was nothing short of a clinic. My opponent wanted to brawl, throw bombs and tie up, but I kept my hands high and a steady diet of 1-2's in his face, and was never in range by the time he was ready to wind up and fire back. As the round progressed and his work (and success/land) rate decreased, he began clinching and holding more and more. He was trying to slow the fight down and keep it ugly, but it wasn't because that was his style - he was just that tired.
I came out for the 3rd round as fresh as I was in the 1st - not just because of adrenaline, but because I was in that good of shape and confident that I was going to blow my fatigued opponent away on the scorecards in the final 3 minutes. Unfortunately, he countered with his own secret weapon: more holding.
A lot more.
While the first half of the round was practically flawless for me, the 2nd half might as well have been a foxtrot lesson - my opponent wouldn't quit bear-hugging me and the ref pulled a vanishing act, never stepping it in to break us up and get him off me. While I still landed a few stiff, short uppercuts and squeezed in a few hooks and right hands, I was literally tied up for the entire 2nd half of the round.
When the final bell rang, my opponent didn't need to step in to embrace me - he already had me wrapped up, so he just relaxed, dropped his guard and said "great fight." I couldn't help but respond with a smirk "great fight dude...now quit holding me after the fight too."
I went back to my corner and took my gloves off, thoroughly satisfied with my performance and ready to have my hand raised in the middle of the ring.
But the end result? A split-decision victory for the bad guy.
And the margin on the deciding judge's scorecard? One point.
You can't make this up.
One point. I needed one more point for a draw, two for a victory. If the ref would have ran the fight differently (aka done his job at all and kept us boxing rather than sumo wrestling...) I know I would have erased that margin in seconds. So while I'm honestly not crying foul or conspiracy (how can I? all the holding affected my opponent too) I can't help but feel frustrated. The praise and assurances that I "should" have won are no consolation for not actually getting the W.
I could not have been more prepared for this fight. I could not have fought any smarter or stronger. I was in control. Strangers at ringside approached me and told me I won. If I had that minute+ of boxing (rather than snuggle time) during the final round, I have no doubts that it would have resulted in me being awarded a unanimous decision win.
Everything went right...except having the win on my record.
So I've spent the past week+ resting and clearing my head. My body needed the break, but for once my mind needed a little R&R outside the ring too. After all, you can't think about your next fight until you've moved on from your last. And while this was far from a negative experience, it admittedly took me a few days to look at it as a semi-positive bump in my boxing career.
So onwards I go. My batteries are re-charged and I've started to ease back into my full training routine. Tomorrow is my first sparring session since the bout and I feel like it will be the final step in burying my disappointment.
I posted it right before my fight and I'm sticking with it now: "Forget past mistakes. Forget failures. Forget everything except what you're going to do now and do it."
I woke up early, as thirsty and hungry as expected, but in great spirits. Between the trip in my trainer's car and getting settled at the venue's locker room, I spent the hours before weigh-in channeling my inner Buddha - at peace, relaxed and just treating it like any other Saturday in the gym. When the scalemaster finally showed up, I hopped in line and weighed a whopping 147. (I guess I should have fried some wings the night before instead of nibbling on a grilled chicken breast...) Needless to say, I got right to work putting that weight back on had my first Powerbar unwrapped before I even put my shirt back on.
I went back to the locker room and relaxed, reading my book (fittingly, a bio on Roberto Duran) and munching on bananas, cold spaghetti and another protein bar. Surprisingly, I wasn't anxious in the least. On the contrary, I was doing what I loved and I knew with certainty that I was ready, so I truly had nothing to fear.
I warmed up, stretched out, had one of my cornermen wrap my hands (everyone should have their hands wrapped by someone else at least once - the light, airy snugness on your knuckles, using gauze instead of linen... it's pugilistic pampering) and before I knew it, my name was being called.
After weeks of training, sacrifice and preparation, it was finally time to put it all together and win some hardware.
My opponent came out at the opening bell with guns blazing, winding up on his toes and lunging at me with power punches in bunches. He was a strong kid and landed a few solid shots, but never hurt me and set a pace I knew was unmaintainable. He clinched a lot and rough-housed, but was only the 2nd toughest fighter in the ring. The bell rang and I went back to my corner knowing I was behind on points, but held a huge advantage in skill, strategy and stamina.
As expected, the 2nd round swayed drastically in my favor and at times was nothing short of a clinic. My opponent wanted to brawl, throw bombs and tie up, but I kept my hands high and a steady diet of 1-2's in his face, and was never in range by the time he was ready to wind up and fire back. As the round progressed and his work (and success/land) rate decreased, he began clinching and holding more and more. He was trying to slow the fight down and keep it ugly, but it wasn't because that was his style - he was just that tired.
I came out for the 3rd round as fresh as I was in the 1st - not just because of adrenaline, but because I was in that good of shape and confident that I was going to blow my fatigued opponent away on the scorecards in the final 3 minutes. Unfortunately, he countered with his own secret weapon: more holding.
A lot more.
While the first half of the round was practically flawless for me, the 2nd half might as well have been a foxtrot lesson - my opponent wouldn't quit bear-hugging me and the ref pulled a vanishing act, never stepping it in to break us up and get him off me. While I still landed a few stiff, short uppercuts and squeezed in a few hooks and right hands, I was literally tied up for the entire 2nd half of the round.
When the final bell rang, my opponent didn't need to step in to embrace me - he already had me wrapped up, so he just relaxed, dropped his guard and said "great fight." I couldn't help but respond with a smirk "great fight dude...now quit holding me after the fight too."
I went back to my corner and took my gloves off, thoroughly satisfied with my performance and ready to have my hand raised in the middle of the ring.
But the end result? A split-decision victory for the bad guy.
And the margin on the deciding judge's scorecard? One point.
You can't make this up.
One point. I needed one more point for a draw, two for a victory. If the ref would have ran the fight differently (aka done his job at all and kept us boxing rather than sumo wrestling...) I know I would have erased that margin in seconds. So while I'm honestly not crying foul or conspiracy (how can I? all the holding affected my opponent too) I can't help but feel frustrated. The praise and assurances that I "should" have won are no consolation for not actually getting the W.
I could not have been more prepared for this fight. I could not have fought any smarter or stronger. I was in control. Strangers at ringside approached me and told me I won. If I had that minute+ of boxing (rather than snuggle time) during the final round, I have no doubts that it would have resulted in me being awarded a unanimous decision win.
Everything went right...except having the win on my record.
So I've spent the past week+ resting and clearing my head. My body needed the break, but for once my mind needed a little R&R outside the ring too. After all, you can't think about your next fight until you've moved on from your last. And while this was far from a negative experience, it admittedly took me a few days to look at it as a semi-positive bump in my boxing career.
So onwards I go. My batteries are re-charged and I've started to ease back into my full training routine. Tomorrow is my first sparring session since the bout and I feel like it will be the final step in burying my disappointment.
I posted it right before my fight and I'm sticking with it now: "Forget past mistakes. Forget failures. Forget everything except what you're going to do now and do it."
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