More Boxing -- True Stuff

In the summer of ’53 I became an amateur pugilist. The park system along the coast decided to offer boxing lessons to the local boys aged six to twelve. For some reason my parents signed me up. Everyday for two weeks or so I walked to the boardwalk where together with about 30 or 40 other kids, I fell under the dubious tutelage of a guy named Max, our aging but enthusiastic trainer and former boxer who appeared to have lost every one of his fights. Max had a cauliflower ear, nose, and mouth and he’d been hit in the face so often that his voice sounded as if his nasal passages had collapsed into a giant knot of mutilated cartilage. Everyday Max would put us through our paces. We ran, jumped rope, hit the bag, and shadow boxed. I was usually trailing the pack during the roadwork and on one occasion, Max approached me and told me that I should keep up the good work since I was “the champ.” Since none of us had really had a bout yet, his statement mystified me. Still, I reasoned, Max was the expert. Could it be that he with his practiced eye had discerned in me some special boxing prowess that set me above the other boys who were bigger, stronger, and faster? I concluded it was possible and so re-doubled my efforts to succeed. At home, my dad sparred with me on our living room rug as I rained roundhouse lefts and rights on his arms with the junior sized boxing gloves that hung from my spaghetti arms. The climax of the camp was the series of fights that took place in the evening on the last day of the camp. I was matched with a kid who looked as if he had recently been kicked out of reform school. As my family watched and cheered, I gamely threw myself into the fray and promptly got my clock cleaned; at least it seemed that way to me. Witnesses friendly to me testify to this day that I gave a good account of myself, but they weren’t the ones getting socked in the face. Not to my surprise the other kid was declared the winner. I felt pretty bad about the whole thing but came out of it with no lasting scars, physical or otherwise.