Sunday, April 01, 2007

Pugilism, It Ain't All Gravy

pu·gi·lism, noun
The skill, practice, and sport of fighting with the fists; boxing.

I recently sent the following text to my friend in an email. I re-read it later, and I thought it was kind of funny, so I thought I'd post it here. To clarify a few things, I have been taking boxing lessons for the last month or so. My coach is an aboriginal guy named Laling. He lives in the mountains with his family, including his brother. When my friend from the states came to visit me in February, we went up and spent the night with them (which is something I will blog about in the future). Anyway, sometimes Laling's brother comes to boxing practice to help out with coaching. For some reason he decided to give me special attention one day. Read on...

Hey, Payday, What's up?

Check this out: remember Laling's brother from the
mountain? Well, he's been helping out coaching the
boxing class. Turns out he's a pretty good boxer.

Anyway, the other day he came into the gym and he just
walked up to me and said, "You fight me."

Next thing I know we are in the ring--no mouth guards
or head gear or anything--and I'm having to box this
crazy motherfucker. It couldn't have lasted more than
a minute or two, but he basically punched me in the
face about six times. I got one good shot in with a
left hook to the side of his head, but it was kind of
an accident as my arms were just flailing around as he
batted my head back and forth like a ping pong ball.

I know he was taking it easy on me, and he could have
killed me if he wanted to, but it still smarts to get
socked in the snout like that.

A week later I was back in the ring duking it out with
a guy who is a champ kickboxer. Again with the ping
pong ball head. Plus he kept kicking my legs out from
under me (which he's not supposed to do, but what am I
going to do, tell my mom?).

And I have to admit that one time this kid came to
practice and he beat the crap out of me, too. He's
thirteen, but he's about the size of a nine-year-old.

I think I joined the wrong club!

I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I guess I
don't have anyone to talk to.

You bastard.

So you can see that despite all of my efforts, I have yet to master the pugilistic arts. I'm not sure if by continuing to try I will get better, or get dead. Oh well, it is better than a kick in the ass... a little.

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