I Want to be a Boxer, Part 2

I WANT TO BE A BOXER

PART TWO



Running as fast as he could, Jimmy reached the gym, without a moment to spare. The clock on the wall read 8:00am exactly. "whew," thought Jimmy, I made it. It was unusually quiet in the gym, possibly because it was Saturday and rather early. Just a few boxers were there. One was skipping rope. One boxer was shadow boxing in front of a mirror, and a few were punching the bag on both sides of the gym. Looking around for Max, and not seeing him, Jimmy felt his stomach turning into knots. Max had probably given up on him. But it wasn't late, unless he was supposed to be here way before 8:00am. Suddenly the large door that led from the gym's office to the gym itself opened and there was Mr. Rappaport, followed by a few of his assistants. "Hi there Jimmy, glad you could make it. Sorry, I'm late, but we had an early meeting in the office. Ready to go?" Sighing with relief and Max saying he was sorry for being late opened a new avenue for Jimmy. "Gee," he thought, Big Max Rappaport saying he was sorry was something he had to tell the boys when he saw them. But he suddenly thought of his promise to tell them where he was going was a worry he had to cope with. But not now. Now, he had the opportunity of a lifetime, and he couldn't afford to blow it. "Yeah, sure Mr. Rappa. I mean Max." Tell ya what Jimmy, why don't you go back in the locker room, Pick a locker that's not occupied, put on your trunks and your jock strap, and come here when you're ready and we'll fit you with a pair of shoes, headgear and a temporary mouthpiece. "Jockstrap? Oh. My God thought Jimmy, what'll I do now, I better tell him the truth." "Max, I'm sorry but I don't have a jock strap." "No problem said Max, what size are you?" " I weigh about one hundred ten pounds, replied Jimmy." " No, no", said Max." I mean what size are you around your waist. What size pants do you wear?" "Oh" replied Jimmy, " I think I'm a size thirty six." "No you can't be." Then to one of his assistants, he called, "Hey Izzy, get the boy here a 29 jock, okay? "Be right back," said Izzy. Izzy was Max's favorite assistant. He had been with him since the early days when Izzy was a pretty good fighter. Now at age fifty three, all he had to show was a scared face, mashed in ears, a nose that had been broken so many times that one could hardly tell that there was a nose there. But he loved Max and Max loved him. Besides that, Izzy was a darn good trainer.

Max had given much thought to his plans for Jimmy. He was going to let him punch the sandbag for a while to toughen his hands up a bit, do a little rope skipping, but not much else. He didn't want to tire him out before his true test. Max, wise in his years, and his experiences in the fight game decided to put him in the ring with Johnny Galincio, a young professional bantamweight boxer, who had a record of 20 fights, 14 knockouts, 1 draw and no losses and had the possibilities of becoming a serious contender in the future. Max's instructions to Johnny were simple. "Box around him. He's going to try to beat the hell out of you. But I know that he won't have a chance. I want you to feel him out. See if he's got any stuff at all. See if he can take a punch, and if he's easy to hit, but don't hurt him. I want to know if the kid has anything at all, or have I been wasting my time."

In the locker room, Jimmy looked contemptuously at the jock strap Izzy had given him. "This little thing is supposed to protect me? Protect me from what?" Jimmy had never been hit in the groin, but there was always a first time. Putting on the jock strap, and looking in the mirror. He thought, "Geez, what if the boys could see me now. I'd be the laughing stock of the neighborhood." Jimmy was nervous, he had no idea what plans Max had for him. No idea of what Max had in mind. All he knew was what Max said yesterday, if he wanted to work out with one of his boys. One of his boys was probably one of the kids from another neighborhood.

Everything was ready for Jimmy, safety head gear, boxing shoes, that did not quite fit, but nevertheless useable, and a temporary mouthpiece that was designed to fit most mouths, and would provide some sort of protection if Jimmy happened to get hit in the mouth. "Okay," yelled Max, "Johnny, this is Jimmy. Jimmy, this is Johnny, Johnny Galincio." Jimmy looked at Johnny, and thought; "This ain't no kid from the neighborhood." He practically knew all the guys that lived around where he lived, but he's not one of them. He also looked much older than Jimmy, and was bigger and had a better built than Jimmy. Much better." "Nice to meet you," said Johnny. "Same here," replied Jimmy, as both boxers held out their gloved hands as if to shake hands.

Johnny Galincio looked like a nice guy. At least he looked like one, and Jimmy took an immediate liking to him. Johnny on the other hand had no such thoughts. He was a professional, and was getting paid this morning to do what Max wanted him to do. He never got friendly with any of the boxers at the gym or anywhere else for that matter. His thinking was; if he ever got in a ring with someone he liked, it may have some influence upon him, and might impair his abilities for fear of hurting his friend. This, and other thoughts entered Johnny's thoughts as Max called, "Hey guys, lets go, all ready?" "Yep," called Johnny. "All ready," echoed Jimmy.


“Jimmy, I want you to work on the sand bag for awhile, and then skip some rope to warm up. I’ll call you when we’re ready,” said max. “Okay, Max,” replied Jimmy, as he set out towards where the sandbags were. “Johnny, come over here, I want to talk to you a minute,” called Max. As Johnny walked towards Max, Jimmy was already at the sand bag, and was pounding it as if his life depended on it. Somehow, his experiences on the streets, intuitively kept telling him that something was going on and that he had better be ready for anything. He felt that it was unusual for Max not to give him any instructions or talk to him as he had spoken to Johnny.


“Johnny,” said Max, don’t forget what I told you. I want to know if he can take a punch, and can give one. Just feel him out, but don’t get careless, and don’t hurt him. Okay?” “Don’t worry,” replied Johnny, “I’ll take care of it.”


In the boxing ring and with 12 ounce gloves on each fighter then showing Jimmy how to adjust his headgear, Max said, “Alright boys, this is what we are going to do. There won’t be any official rounds. When I feel that a round should be over, I’ll ring the bell and you go to your respective corners and when you hear the bell again, start boxing again, understood?” Both fighters nodded that they understood.


The bell rang, echoing throughout the gym. As the boys rose to confront each other, the seconds immediately removed the fighters chairs from the ring. Striking up a boxers defensive position both boys met each other in the center of the ring. Although he had no official boxing experience or training, Jimmy appeared to know what he was supposed to do. Johnny bobbing and weaving, landed the first blow, a left hook then a right cross, both punches landing on Jimmy’s chest. Jimmy felt the blows. They stung a bit, but had no affect on him. Jimmy blocked the next punch, and countered with a jab that seemingly backed Johnny up. Johnny was surprised. Although he was not hurt, he had not seen the blow coming. Jimmy now gaining more confidence, kept throwing jabs at his surprised opponent. Johnny felt a little concern at this moment. He had not considered that maybe this kid, who could not weigh more than 105 pounds, sopping wet, could get through to him as he did. Jimmy kept drilling jabs, that seemed to gain more power with each punch. He had not used his right hand so far, but was evidently awaiting an opportunity to do so. Then it happened, Johnny made a fatal mistake, and instead of jabbing with his left hand, threw a punch, leading off with his right hand, thinking that he may possibly stop the onslaught of Jimmy’s jabs. Jimmy easily blocked the punch, and noticing that Johnny’s left hand was down at his waist, leaving that side of his body vulnerable, he seized the opportunity, and unleashed a left hook followed by a right cross, both blows landing squarely on each side of Johnny’s face. Johnny’s face took on a surprised look, supposedly not believing that this could happen. He collapsed on the floor of the ring, his mouthpiece falling from his mouth. His eyes closed, and breathing heavily. He was out. He was unconscious. He was knocked out for the first time in his life, and by a mere kid, an amateur, none-the-less.


“Oh, my God,” “I can’t believe it. This cannot happen.” The excitement and surprise surrounding the ring was enormous. There was Johnny lying on the floor in a fetal position, completely oblivious to the world around him. Above him stood the gladiator, a 16 year old street punk who had just knocked out one of the most promising boxers in the game. This was impossible. It could not happen, but it did.The handlers in the ring were trying to revive Johnny. Later, Johnny declared that he never saw either punch coming. It was so fast that he didn’t know it was happening. He admitted that the kid had a terrific punch, and didn’t hesitate for a minute to say that he has the makings of a knockout artist.


From across the ring, Max stared unbelievingly at Jimmy while Jimmy looked at Max with contempt. He did not want this to happen. He had no idea that it would. And as he later learned, he had unintentionally ruined the boxing career of Johnny Galincio. Johnny would be the laughing stock of all in the boxing industry; being knocked out by a mere kid, and in the first round too. Johnny never boxed again, and moved away from the neighborhood to begin a new career in another profession. Jimmy felt sorry for Johnny, but felt elated at the same time. He didn’t know that he was in the ring with a professional fighter, and felt that he should have been told. He left the ring without speaking to anyone, despite the praises and pats on the back from the entire staff of the gym. He just wanted to be left alone now to contemplate what he had accomplished. While walking back to the locker room, he asked himself, “what do I do now?”