City Hall: An Autobiography, Chapter 6

Well, this is the moment of truth. I am about to start training for boxing. It has been so many years. There was a bit of uncertainty. I am not exactly sure how this is going to work out.

The Number Forty bus was late, as usual. This is Saturday. How can a bus be late on a Saturday? I was expected to be at the gym for training by 11 o'clock. Shit, I don't think I can make it.

I decided to walk. It was probably faster than this stupid bus.

I walked up Keele Street to the Staples, and cut through their parking lot, then through the Home Depot, the Future Shop, then another couple of blocks along this little industrial access road left over from the slaughterhouse that was where Future Shop now stands. Wow, we went from a slaughterhouse to a Future Shop. Not much change, was there?

It was not as warm today, fall is definitely in the air.

As I approached the boxing gym, I noticed Coach Jeremy was outside with an assistant, putting up the new sign.

"Hi, Coach", I said happily.

"Jake!", he said back, "I am so happy you made it. Go in and get ready. warm up, and I will be in shortly."

"Great.", I said.

I walked into the change room with my gym bag full of brand-spanking new boxing gear. New gloves, wraps, shoes, headgear, protection, mouthguard, uniform...$487....Kicking some sorry ass around the ring....Priceless...Hee hee hee....Sorry.

I like the shiny look and smell of new boxing gloves. They smell like a new car. After you use them a couple of times the smell is gone.

My uniform is green. Green with white trim. I like green. My gloves are all black. My protector and "brain bucket", all black. Shoes are high-top, black with white trim. Green, white, black, good combination of colors.

By the time I was finished changing, Jeremy was back in.

"Okay, Jake", he said with a smile, "Ready?"

He claps his hands and rubs them together as if he was getting ready to embark on some major endeavor.

"Let me go over my expectations", he began, "As your coach, I expect a certain amount of effort on your part. The more you put in, the more you get out."

He opened his top desk drawer and pulled out a booklet that looked to be about 150 pages.

"Read this.", he said.

Oh, I'm glad this isn't going to be too complicated, I thought sarcastically.

I looked at Coach and said happily, "I'll make sure to read this thoroughly, just like I read the manual for the P.A. System at work".

"Good.", Coach said, not realizing my sarcasm.

"For today I want you doing your own training", Coach ordered, "You were a boxer once before, so I'm sure you know what to do. We have about one year to get ready for this guy from New York."

"Yeah", I questioned, "Tell me about that."

"It could be a really big thing", Coach continued,"This guy, Jack Malloy, from New York City, Brooklyn, whatever the fuck... Anyway, this will be one of those Canada verses United States things, you know. I am tired of their shit. Those fucking Americans think they are the best at every freaking sport, it is about time we put them in their place...and you, Jake, are the one who is going to do it...right here in Toronto, on July first."

Ooooohhhkayyyy...No pressure here, I thought.

"...oh, and by he way", Coach added, "I will be away next moth, so I'm sending you to train at my friend's gym in Montreal."

Oh, that's going to go over well with the Mayor.

TO BE CONTINUED...



Disclaimer: Please note that any reference to any real locations in this story is intended to keep this story as true to life as possible, but any description, characters and text involved with said locations are fictional