BOXING

"Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth." - Mike Tyson

A great American pastime.

A sport that relies on power, speed, technique and durability.

And a sport where two people can literally beat the shit out of one another for the sake of proving dominance. How dope is that?!

But before I give any of you boxing lovers a woody, I think the most intriguing aspect of boxing is the mental game.

Having to step into a ring with someone who wants to punch your face in and being able to remain calm?

Maintaining control of your body and your mind while taking blows from your competitor?

How the fuck does anyone do that? Or more importantly, what can you learn from an experience like that?

Growing up, one of my best friends was an absolute stud of a boxer. His record as a junior fighter was something ridiculous; like a record of 100 plus wins and less than five losses. He was not to be fucked with.

The summer going into my senior year in high school, my friend’s dad had been hounding me for months to start training to become a boxer. So one day, I caved, and agreed to begin training.

For about a month, I spent a few days a week jump roping, running, hitting a punching bag and hitting mitts in the ring he had built in his backyard. This type of training was more difficult than anything I had ever experienced, but it was cool because I was now training to become a “boxer”.

One day, my friend, his dad and I went out to Vandenberg Air Force Base to train at their boxing gym. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. Boxing equipment everywhere. Dudes sparring. Honestly I was pretty intimidated by the setting. After finding a bag to punch for about 20 minutes, my friend’s dad came up and asked me if I wanted to spar. I had never sparred before so my response was actually the question, “Do you think I’m ready?” That was obviously the wrong response because next thing I knew, I was getting fitted for gear to get in the ring in 10 minutes.

Upon us entering the ring, I attempted to get myself prepared by sizing up my opponent. And in the process of sizing up my opponent, I realized that he wasn’t there to spar. He was there to kick my ass!

Once we got the go ahead to begin, I took a few steps towards my opponent and threw a nervous punch from about five feet away. Needless to say, I didn’t hit a fucking thing. Next thing I knew, after taking a few steps closer, he was beating my head in with punches. As soon as I would come out of an intermittent blackout, I would catch another punch to the head causing another blackout. It was like nothing I had experienced before. After about 20 seconds of this ass beating (which felt more like 20 minutes), I heard my friend’s dad yell “stop!”. He called out to me by my nickname, “Grande”, and asked if I was alright. In all honesty, I wasn’t close to what I would consider “alright”, but I didn’t want to let him down. So I responded “yes” and geared up for possible ass beating number two.

At this time, a lot of thoughts went through my head. Was I scared? Fuck yes! Did I want to continue? Fuck no! But for whatever reason, I knew that I had to. This was an opportunity to face my fears. I could step back into the brawl and either get my head smashed in again, or (an even better plan), smash the other guy’s head in. So I chose the latter.

As we resumed our fight, I threw a big punch and connected. I don’t think my foe was expecting it because he wasn’t ready for the next one I threw either. Or the one after that.

Technique-wise, it was almost like I had forgotten every bit of training I had received over the past month. My punches were just blind haymakers. But they were connecting and I was pissed off. So unless this guy could get his bearings back, I was the one delivering the ass whooping, and let me tell you, it was fucking awesome!

For whatever reason, I never sparred again after that day. I’m not sure why. I just didn’t.

The point of this long-ass story isn’t to toot my own horn. My point is that on our ride back home, I got some of the best advice that I have ever been given.

When you get hit (multiple times in my case), things slow down and your brain goes into a thought process. It's fight or flight mode. You either back the fuck out or you back the fuck in.

Fortunately, I made the decision to go back in for more, even if it meant getting my head smashed in again. I wanted more of whatever that fight had to offer. I wanted an opportunity to face my fear and get my redemption. To show every mother fucker in that gym that I wasn’t going to quit, regardless of the outcome.

That one round showed me a lot about myself. And I try to maintain that same mentality moving forward in life.

You’re going to get hit. Hard. Multiple times. But you cannot quit.

You have to step back in and be ready to get hit again or, even better, start hitting back.

The battle is won inside the ring. Not on the outside as a fucking spectator.

So I challenge you to step inside the ring.

Fuck the outcome. Just insert yourself into the fight.

Because the truth is, every one of us has the ability and every one of us will have the opportunity to back the fuck out or back the fuck in.

So force the courage to take advantage of these opportunities because until you do, you’ll never really know what you’re made of.