By CJ Speight, boxing coach
I WOKE up after watching the aftermath of the Paul vs. Tyson spectacle. I thought to myself, maybe I could write a short piece that would actually tell you, from a firsthand point of view, what boxing is really like.
The emotions you experience inside and outside of the ring. The stress and fatigue that your body, mind and soul go through. The harsh physical tests that you have to overcome, the strain on your life outside of the gym. Family, friends, loved ones and work life.
I started amateur boxing early on, roughly around the time I started high school, just like many boys and girls do at that age. Although when I started, there weren’t many girls at all. Not like now. This is the time for women’s boxing and women’s sport in general. That is a story for another day.
I remember walking through the doors of the gym in my small North Yorkshire town, with my dad by my side. To be perfectly honest, my dad was leading the way. I think if you ask the same question-“What is the first thing you notice when you enter a boxing gym?“-to anyone who has been involved, they will usually give the same answer: simply, the smell.
You can never get away from that hot sweatbox smell. It stays with you like your new favourite aftershave, and you crave and sense it. Every gym you walk into, every small hall amateur event you take part in, every time you lace up or Velcro strap a pair of gloves on, you get that same hit from that smell.
Boxing gyms like the one I entered, from small towns or deep inner city gyms, were rough. They’re not all like that now. There is a lot of funding, and you can find state-of-the-art high-tech gyms. They are not all welcoming; you catch eyes with the warriors inside, and they instantly go on the defensive. They feel they have to protect what is theirs. One man’s boxing gym is another man’s kingdom.
To some kids, the gym is their safe space, their solitude. Sure, they might be coming home with a busted nose or a cut on their lip, red, stained, toothy grins, but to them, this is home. Maybe the only home that some of them will ever know. Violence, to some, is a saviour.
I cannot begin to tell you how satisfying it is to take out your anger and rage on a swinging leather bag, or to lace up and go to war with somebody in the ring for a de-stress sparring session. Not always full of anger or malice, but also not always full of kindness.
There are specific experiences and moments that you can only find inside these gyms. That only relates to boxing. One of my favourites is when kids put their gum shields in for the first time, put their headguards on (which usually don’t fit and end up swinging around) and begin with their first sparring session.
Sparring is supposedly the chance to practise a boxing match inside the ring in a controlled environment. Yeah right! An old boxing coach from the North East once said to me, ‘sparring maketh men’. I never caught his name, or ever saw him again, for that matter, but I never forgot those words.
Here comes the key point. The magical moment is when these kids, of all shapes, sizes, backgrounds, colours and creeds, deliver a punch for the first time on their partner, but more importantly, how they TAKE a punch back. It’s a moment where time comes to a standstill for a few split seconds.
You watch and you wait, for a facial expression, a tear, a grimace, maybe the burst of pure raw emotion; whichever way it comes out. Sometimes it goes the other way. Sometimes there’s a smile, the changing of eyes, like a predator catching its prey in sight.
It’s this moment where you feel the magic flow through their veins, as it did through your own veins, many moons ago. It’s the moment these kids realise that you don’t play boxing and you’re not made of glass.
Yes, that punch just landed square on your nose. Yes, that punch hurt like a bitch. Your eyes are watering when you realise, I’m still here, I’m alive, and I’m ready to go again.
It was Mike Tyson who famously said, ‘Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth’.
I competed as an amateur boxer. It was one of the biggest and proudest achievements in my life. It is a true statement that anybody who steps foot inside that ring is a brave, brave person, because the bollocks you need and the big gulp and swallow you make while climbing through those ropes is indescribable.
The feeling you have when those lights are on you. You’re standing opposite somebody willing to go to war with you, which evokes physical emotions that make you feel like a gladiator.
